Turf Encroachment! - Asuka Hisashi & Drake Vyril

[CyanDimitrik]

Whap.

Whap.

'So it's come to this, huh?'

Fists drive against the leathery side of suspended canvas in perfect rhythm, issuing the bag to swing.

Whap.

'To get a little peace and quiet...'

Nimble steps carry the lithesome frame of a male around the punching bag, where a new, brisk flurry of jabs land.

With a final, wide windup, a wild haymaker slams against the side of the bag. Shortly after, a hand places to the canvas to cease its motion.

'...had to come here.'

Hands prop to hips and shoulders draw back, limbering up his frame and denying it the opportunity to tense. Drake's amethyst gaze travels over the gym - LAW-associated. If he thought the modeling angle wasn't enough of a problem in his patronizing federation, them finding out he's come here would just be the icing on the cake.

'Never live it down.'

He draws a hand through his hair, pulling the hanging bangs from his eyes. He hadn't begun to sweat; he's not been here long enough. Concerns of being caught out and publicized has kept him on edge. At least he's pretty certain he's alone right now, so that's something. He paces from the hanging bag and looks to the ring dominating the center of the room.

Reflecting on what he's seen of LAW, he has to be fair. Any negative connotations gained from getting a workout here would be pretty ridiculous. A lot of the matches he's seen from LAW were good. Some real, honest-to-God skill present. Not that the people back at his fed' would care, but screw them. Drake appreciates athleticism and dedication when he sees it.

Decked out in a pair of black cross-trainers, shorts, and woolen gray hoodie, Drake starts across the room towards some free weights.

[DizzyKnight]

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[CyanDimitrik]

He's close. He's close! Hand reaches for a free-weight - and he's suddenly cut off by an incensed blonde girl jabbing her finger into his chest. Eyes widen and the young man staggers back a step in surprise.

"Whoa, take it easy!," is the immediate defense. And then what she says sinks in. "Oh god, seriously?," he asks in Japanese. He knew it was predominantly female. Exclusively? As in, the gym entirely? Here he was hoping it'd be like getting caught working out at Curves or something. No, this would carry those connotations and then some. This doesn't look good, and he's painfully aware of that - it's written all over his face in blush.

It doesn't help that he instinctively notices the girl's really pretty. Sure, she looks like she might punch him, but- back to the point!

"You're not going to believe me, which is basically what everyone says, I know, but I know how it looks, I just didn't know this was like exclusively female, my bad!," he says rapid-fire. "Wait. Hey." Amethyst eyes narrow on her, studying her face. "I've seen you before. Hisashi, right?"

His posture relaxes, overtaken more by curiosity and inspection. That blush is pretty much tattooed on his face, though. That might take a while to dim.

[DizzyKnight]

a

[CyanDimitrik]

"Wait, wait, wait. You think?," asks Drake, suddenly less apologetic. He assumes a more defiant posture, arms folding over his chest similar to her, and the blush finally starting to dim. "Well, we've got a situation here. See..." He turns to move, but not necessarily towards the door. Rather, he only paces a few steps from her. "...I've been trying to find a place around here where I can actually work out and not have to put up with... 'coworkers'." He spins on heel to face her again.

Rather than explain right away what he means, he shifts the subject. "Yeah. Seen you wrestle. You're good. I don't think I've seen you even lose yet, actually." He leans forward slightly as he brings the topic full-circle, shoulders hunching inwards, "I'm a wrestler, too. I was lookin' for somewhere quiet to train."

He glances left, then right, then back at her. With a softer tone and the hint of a smile edging the corner of his lips, he says, "Look, I'm not here to perv' on anyone. You can relax. I'd rather take this chance to say, 'I like what you bring to the ring,' than constantly be on guard for a slap or something. Think we can try this," he flicks an index finger to-and-fro between them indicatively, "from the top?"

[DizzyKnight]

a

[CyanDimitrik]

That friggin' question. It's a fair one, and one he feels she's entitled to. After all, this is her home turf. He's the outsider. And he understands the curiosity plainly written on her face. "Yeah. There is."

He glances aside briefly, weighing his options. But she gave him an idea. Those deep amethysts return to her in the company of a playful smile. "Yeah. Let's go a round," he nods. That wasn't quite what he was saying at first, but it totally works. She's athletic, she's toned, he's seen her work in the ring. Testing himself against her could be interesting! It didn't hurt that she's painfully pretty on top of it, so getting to lock up with her could also be fun. How often does that chance come around? "I've never wrestled a woman before, either, so we're even!"

He glances to the ring, then back to her. "After the match, I'll explain why I'd rather be somewhere like here than with the guys from my roster. Sound good?"

"Oh, and-"

He offers a hand to her, palm upturned. This isn't a casual handshake position, but he's clearly expecting her hand all the same. That tinge of rouge in her cheeks was noticed, and he can't really help himself.

"The name's Drake. Or Domino, in the ring."

[DizzyKnight]

a

[CyanDimitrik]

Aw. She messed up the hand-thing he was gonna do. The shake is completely awkward, given its angle, and leaves Drake staring at their hands nonplussed. Oh well.

As she brushes past him, he turns to follow her as bid, nose wrinkled. "So clever~," he drones, though his tone is lacking any bite or venom. "No, it's- I'll explain that later, too. It'll make more sense then." He's used to outsiders not getting it. It's okay. It's meaningful to the people who do understand, and that's a tradeoff he's willing to make.

The young model-wrestler makes his way to the opposite end of the ring, pausing only to glance at her as she pulls the hoodie off. He's seen her in her wrestling gear before; the visual isn't new. But seeing it in person is a different ballgame. She's pretty, and his gaze lingers on her just a second or two longer than it otherwise might.

With a quick hop, his feet land on the edge of the ring. Hands grip the top rope, and he smoothly vaults himself up and over to land on the mat. He then makes his way to the corner opposite of her. Still turned away, he gathers up the hem of his hoodie and draws it up and over his head, leaving himself only in the shorts and shoes, sleekly-toned upper-body bare.

Spoiler

The garment is tossed onto the turnbuckle, and after a beat, brushed off to land on the ring apron instead. He may need that turnbuckle later. Finally, he turns to the blonde and begins making his way to the center of the ring. Arms and shoulders wind, limbering up the streamlined muscles in preparation. "Any rules? Thoughts?," he asks.

[DizzyKnight]

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