bitchprince (
bitchprince) wrote in
fandomhighdorms2009-06-01 01:10 pm
Entry tags:
The Salle, Monday Morning
His bruises had faded to a point where he could train again, so Arthur was, as usual, back in the salle to go through his morning routine, and to deal with his regulars as they showed themselves.
He was choosing to ignore anything that may have gone on over the weekend (although he was messing about with his Blackberry in order to finally let Reno in on what had happened on Friday. It was a work in progress, but he'd managed to work it down to ensorclld alli and he had hope that with time, he could both finish the last word, and add the 'golden fish' part. It was possible it would be easier if he simply figured out how to leave a voice-mail-- he was quite an expert in the field if he wasn't, in fact, lucid and sober) and took a good training sword instead to give his aching muscles something to remember.
Just an ordinary Monday morning, all in all. He had a vague hope it might actually stay that way for once.
[[ open salle as per usual! ]]
He was choosing to ignore anything that may have gone on over the weekend (although he was messing about with his Blackberry in order to finally let Reno in on what had happened on Friday. It was a work in progress, but he'd managed to work it down to ensorclld alli and he had hope that with time, he could both finish the last word, and add the 'golden fish' part. It was possible it would be easier if he simply figured out how to leave a voice-mail-- he was quite an expert in the field if he wasn't, in fact, lucid and sober) and took a good training sword instead to give his aching muscles something to remember.
Just an ordinary Monday morning, all in all. He had a vague hope it might actually stay that way for once.
[[ open salle as per usual! ]]

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"Right," he said, shaking his head. "I'll see about that."
Wait, Romeo was here because-- "But enough of that."
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Because it would probably take another hour or two. "Always ready," he said, slipping the Blackberry back in his pocket, and he took a stance. "You're the question."
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The look he gave Arthur was half annoyed and half amused. "If I'm the question, your answer," he said, and he brought his fist forward rather harder and straighter than he would have a few months before, "would be yes."
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He slammed his elbow down toward the top of the knee after it made contact anyhow.
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Merlin was not going to be impressed by the bruises, but who cared?