fandomhighdorms | The Salle, Sunday Crack o'Dawn Until Well Into The Afternoon

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The Salle, Sunday Crack o'Dawn Until Well Into The Afternoon

You got used to certain things, in Jaeger Academy. Like getting up at five sharp and spending the next fourteen hours in the Kwoon, working your arse off. Chuck didn't have any instructors now, or any fellow students to practice against-- didn't matter. He'd been slacking for over a week now, waiting for this new school, and it was time to pick things back up again.

Even if he was nursing a minor hangover. In fact, the hangover helped pick up the right level of aggression - that level that he was unleashing on one of the poor practice dummies right now. Going through the forms, hitting at least half of the major ones. Keep going. Keep working at it.

When he got back to the Academy in summer, he had to be in the same shape as everyone else. It didn't matter he'd be forced to stick to a crazy island boarding school, or that his father seemed to have lost his goddamned mind-- he was gonna keep working for it.

Max sat in the corner of the room, his leash tied to one of the benches. Training or not, there was no way Chuck was letting the pup out of his sight.

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More like Chuck had just figured out that winding up battering a classmate on his second day probably wouldn't look too good with the Academy brass.

That comment was almost enough to make him forget about it again. But he'd stepped on-- yeah.

He reached down to pick up Isabelle's whip.

Isabelle considered telling him not to touch the whip, but chose to just push herself up and dust off her clothes instead.

There wasn't much he could do with or to it, anyway. The electrum wire it was primarily made of was Marked.

"I'll be keeping this, I think," Chuck said, holding it up.

Like he knew how to use a whip. He was just trying to save face.

Isabelle laughed.

No, seriously, that was hilarious to her.

"No, you won't."

Chuck shoved it through a belt loop. "What, you going to come at me again?" he said. "That all you can do?"

"I can do a lot of things," Isabelle informed him as she stepped closer. "Whatever a situation takes."

Chuck took a step back.

Not because he was frightened-- he'd just rather have easily-reachable weapons at his back than the wall. "And you're employing this excellent range of talents by starting fights in the training room," he said.

Slow clapping.

"It's a training room," Isabelle shrugged, as she kept moving. "Fighting is training. Also, technically, I executed a takedown. You started the fight in response."

As opposed to yelling at her, or reporting her to the school administration.

"Granted, I was expecting you would, but you had other options available."

Half the reason Chuck was even here was because he couldn't let a fight go; the other half of the reason was... well, because he was wired an awful lot like Isabelle was and it didn't always lend itself to cooperation.

Cough. To put it mildly.

Chuck didn't move this time. The sticks were right where he needed them to be now. "Somebody attacks me, I hit 'em back," he said. "Call me a traditionalist."

Isabelle stopped moving when she was kind of in his personal space. Keeping an eye on where they were, though, in relation to weapons and things.

"Or someone who's going to get himself killed," she noted, idly.

Chuck: still not budging. Watching her hands from the corner of his eyes, too.

"Is that a threat?" he asked. "Or just wishful thinking? Because it's not gonna happen."

"An observation," Isabelle replied, with an eye roll. "I don't bother wishing death on mundies."

It was a little bit counterproductive for her whole life's purpose, even!

"I am not," Chuck said, enunciating as clearly as his Australian accent could manage, "A mundie."

He didn't care if she wrote off the rest of the human race, mind.

"Yes, you are."

He'd dismissed the Shadow World as ren faire stuff. Clearly he was a mundane.

"Feistier than most, though, I'll give you that."

"Get out of my face," Chuck said.

"Give me back my whip," Isabelle retorted.

"I'll think about it," Chuck replied. "If you get out of my face."

"This is not a negotiation, Chuck," she returned sweetly. "Either you give me back my whip, or I stay in your face."

"You're going to stand here for a long time then, sweetheart," he replied. "How's that hip of yours?"

"Nothing I can't heal." Literally, with an iratze. "Besides, I'm patient, I can wait. The view's nice and I'm not in a hurry."

Chuck offered her a shit-eating smile and... stayed put.

In silence.

Isabelle could do silence too. For a while, at least.

Looking him over, because Hodge liked to claim knowing your opponent was a good thing. Or maybe she just liked looking.

"Enjoying yourself?"

'Course Chuck knew when he was being looked over. He just usually didn't have the time to recognize it.

Isabelle shrugged her shoulders. Just an idle little gesture, like there was no tension in this situation at all.

"Aren't you?"

"I've seen better racks," Chuck offered, "But I'll live."

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