Blaise is in good spirits today. True, he's in good spirits most days, so it means little. But today is a workout day
without his overbearing trainer, so he gets to take things at his pace and enjoy a fuss-free regime! He enters the gym already dressed to train, duffelbag slung over his shoulder.
He spots a familiar red-maned girl not far, however. She's clearly emotionally sagging, and for good reason. He saw the conclusion of that tournament. He saw that match. Oh yes. So he freezes in his tracks, tilts to put the duffel down, and refocuses on her to consider his approach. Of course there'd be an approach. He can't imagine how disappointed she must be. He's never been given a title shot, but if they did, he knows how invested he'd be.
He takes a silent step forward.
Their relationship is a weird one. He can't tell when he should be himself, or when he should be guarded and callous. He's always taking barbs from her, hits to the self-esteem, bumps to the ego. The fact that he couldn't beat her in the ring only gave her more leverage. Last time, he'd managed to
sort of beat her at basketball, but that's
basketball. Who gives a crap? He'd have to beat her in the ring before she gives him any legitimate respect. He's pretty sure of that. But he'd determined to leave himself less open and inviting to ridicule and mockery in her presence. It's worked, to a limited level. But how can he do that now?
Just looking at her from behind, Blaise is already realizing he doesn't have it in him to be guarded with her now. She may try to play it tough and take shots at him, but if he mentally prepares now to tank it, it won't be so bad. He'll just grin and bear it. The important thing is that she knows someone cares.
He takes the last few steps closer to her. A hand raises to place upon the back of her shoulder. "
Hey, lass," he greets in a gentle tone, in English.
