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Post by tsukikoko on Jun 24, 2020 12:17:35 GMT -6
As she got closer and the words became more legibly audible, Sara began to softly sing along. She recognised the dull thumps from days she'd spent in and around the training rooms of the WDSA and it made sense that someone like Casmir would have a home gym within the confines of his Safehouse. Idly, she found herself wondering what he might be practising; mixed martial arts, boxing, simple punches or kicks that followed no strict form? She'd seen a great many different techniques, even some that a human most certainly wouldn't utilise (the kicks of a centaur sprung to mind), so it piqued her interest which one Cas-
All her trains of thoughts stuttered to a stop as the shifter came around the corner, mug raised but never reaching her lips as her arm hung suspended and frozen.
She hadn't expected him to be shirtless.
Or for his musculature to be so god-damn attractive.
Sara was ever one for appreciating a fine form and this one was no exception. As the scarred Hunter slammed his fists into the punching bag, she found herself watching the glide of muscles beneath skin, feeling that familiar flutter in her gut and alertness in her hind-brain from her insatiable libido. Not that she had intentions to act on it, mind, but she couldn't prevent the instinctive and rather potent reaction when it arose. Even when he spoke and she was briefly startled that he'd noticed she was there - past the music and impressive sound generated from his own punches - her gaze didn't pull away from Casmir's shoulders.
"Nah luv, y'alreet," she responded, with the faraway note of one distracted and not really concentrating. Then, an exhale that she had to fight really hard not to turn into a whistle, followed by a hearty gulp of her drink that allowed the shifter to regain some semblance of clear-thinking and berate herself for staring. She blinked and, though she continued to look the Hunter's way, she managed to not stare at his well built frame. Mostly. Even though he hadn't looked round, she smiled, then chuckled good-naturedly, "Ya 'avin' a laugh Caz? Ain't gan turn down a full English, like, omnivore through an' through, divvint worry abowt that. Wanted tah thank ya, like, was bloody lovely, I really appreciate ya doin' that fer us, like. So, thank you." Another sip of her drink, an amused glint in her eye and then, because she just couldn't help herself, "-certainly divvint expect a crackin' show, too."
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Post by luscen on Jun 25, 2020 6:53:19 GMT -6
“Nah, luv, y'alreet,” came Sara's airy response. Casmir raised an eyebrow at that- he already wasn't entirely sure how he felt about being called “luv,” as it was both an English idiom, but also a term of affection. The Hunter was many things, but looking for someone to call him “luv” in any kind of capacity wasn't one of them. Still, she didn't mean any harm, so there was no point in trying to correct her behavior.
Of more amusement, however, was the distracted tone in her voice. Casmir wasn't ignorant of his physique, or the effect it had on those who saw it. He was... robust, in a word, but there was precious little fat on him, thanks to his particular lifestyle. Some would say he was practically chiseled from the hardest stone dug up from the deepest quarry, then buffed with the most coarse sandpaper. Either way, those who got a good look at his back were often left speechless for a moment.
His front, on the other hand...
Casmir gave one last punch to the bag then shook his arms out, loosening them up. He grunted and began his post-exercise stretches, interlocking his fingers and raising his arms above his head to get the muscles loosened. He turned towards Sara, giving her a good look at his torso- unlike his back, it was an ugly tapestry of scars. A bevy of claw marks wended their way along his shoulders and upper arms. A thick gash, as though from a massive horn, ran along his left side, leaving a chuck of flesh missing. Ugly looking burn scars pock-marked his abdomen and lower chest, while something like teeth from a rather nasty fanged creature graced his upper shoulder. More scars of various sizes peppered his upper arms, and a few that stuck upwards from the hem of his pants indicated that there were more on his lower half. It was a rather grotesque display, one capable of making even the most hardened of war veterans grimace in empathic pain.
The blonde, however, didn't seem to be too bothered by showing his ugly mess of a body off to Sarah. He rolled his shoulders, reaching up and rubbing his shoulder with one hand. “I figured you'd have an easier time eating something you were familiar with,” he replied. “And if that didn't work, I figured I'd have to tie you down and get you eat something before the surprise.”
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Post by tsukikoko on Jun 25, 2020 9:19:33 GMT -6
Given what she already knew of Casmir and given the one running down his face, the shifter had expected a level of scarring on his body - she'd seen enough of it on various agents and supers, even her own skin and most certainly her tail, to have a degree of familiarity with such things. What she hadn't expected where how many he had, or how vicious they looked. A good few of them, with how deep they looked to have have cut... it was a wonder the man hadn't died already.
Sara came towards the Hunter as though in a trace, transfixed, a conflicted expression upon her face. She barely heard his words - a reply that would have ordinarily had her chuckling and quipping back to. While she wasn't repulsed by his marred skin, she felt a strong sense of distress at what he must have gone through to receive them, that he would likely only obtain more by placing himself in harm's way in the future. The way he had done for her already. There was a sense of awe, too. At what he'd survived and overcome. Fear, empathy, swirled too. What if the next injury didn't scar but managed to kill him? If these were the physical scars, what mental injuries had he sustained, were there any she could have been helping him with? Here he'd taken her in with barely a question when she'd needed him, had already saved her after they first met, what had she done in return?
All her own troubles, the lack of sleep and stress, were shoved aside as she focused on Casmir. He might not even want her empathy, might be uncomfortable and want her to mind her own business, but she couldn't help her desire to reach out for him, before he slipped from her grasp.
One hand rose, while her other continued to grip the mug she still absentmindedly held, when she came to within a step of him. It trembled a little, as though she might reach forward and touch him. Sara wanted to touch those scars, run her fingertips along them as though by doing so it would enlighten her as to whether they continued to hurt the man, how she might alleviate them if they did. There was an element of disbelief too, at what she was seeing. That to touch them would ground her in the true reality of whether they even existed at all. But she remembered herself at the last moment and her fingers recoiled in on themselves, as her gaze flickered up to his face. The scarred man likely wouldn't want such an invasion of his space, it wasn't her place to intrude.
The shifter opened her mouth to apologise, only for the words to fade, half-formed on her lips when she caught the furrow of Casmir's brow. He closed his eyes not long after, tilted his head in a small nod. Sara paused, hesitant, wanting to be sure she'd interpreted him correctly. Her gut feel continued to tell her that he'd provided a form of nonverbal permission, a 'well get on with it then' type of response. Nothing else came from him to tell her otherwise.
So, with a soft gasp as her gaze tracked down and she was once again met with the full scope of his old injuries, the redhead held her hand forward and closed the gap to his chest. He was warm and solid, most certainly real and alive. Her fingertips traced the edge of a claw mark, followed it down until it overlapped a second scar with an infinitely gentle, almost tender touch. Each dip and irregularity sparked fresh feelings of concern, especially when a particular scar fell inwards and proved just how deep the original wound had been. How dangerous. Muscle had been rent asunder, bone had likely been damaged or snapped, flesh had knitted itself together in a manner that surely left some underlying damage behind. "Does.. does it still 'urt, like?" She asked softly, pausing on the largest fang mark disfiguring Casmir's shoulder as she raised her eyes to his hold heterochromic gaze. Reflected back in her shimmering greens was flickering concern from a growing affection; the shifter gave to others with little restraint and made bonds easily and this blonde man was no exception. She cared about his well-being and the idea he might be in constant pain did not sit well.
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Post by luscen on Jun 25, 2020 9:50:35 GMT -6
Casmir's wry smile faded as he caught sight of the look of shock and disbelief on Sara's face. It wasn't unexpected- he was a mess, quite frankly. An unsightly display of scar tissue and knotted muscle, not an ounce of softness to be found anywhere on his person. What exactly had she been expecting? A handsome figure off the cover of a romance novel, with only a few nicks that somehow made him look even more beautiful to look at?
'Real life doesn't play by those rules,' he thought stoically. 'When you tangle with monsters, you get hurt, regardless of how good you are. And not all of us have healing factors...'
Still, rather than shy away from him, or avert her eyes, like he had been expecting, the redhead stepped closer to him, concern and worry filling her eyes. For him? For these wounds brought on by a stupid pup who was too clumsy to fight properly? And yet she raised a hand towards him, fingers stretching towards a particularly gruesome slash across his left oblique. He remembered that one- the first one had been a deep cut made by a large and grumpy barghest. The second, shallower one that cut down across the inner tip near his stomach had been from the foot of an ansanbosam. He'd started wearing better body armor after that kick-boxing match.
Casmir furrowed his brow. What was she playing at? Did she think that she could make these scars better by touching them? Even if she had the ability to heal, they had long since knit over; they wouldn't heal, no matter the potion or curative mantra used. He'd long since adjusted, anyway. Now they were little more than reminders of his days of being young and careless, floundering his way through the world of the Hunter. He'd gotten better since then.
Then she looked up at him, and he was taken aback by the sudden worry there. It wasn't strictly for his wounds- she realized she'd been pressing against his personal space, again, and she was... she was worried about him. About how he would respond to that. It was such an unexpected response that Casmir felt the unpleasant sense of guilt churning in his gut.
'It's just a touch,' he thought to himself, clenching his fist. 'Just a small touch, that's all.'
The scarred man closed his eyes and gave a brief nod, then looked away, waiting for Sara to be about her business. There was a long pause, then tension as he felt her fingers gently run along the grooves that had been carved into his flesh. The touch was soft, tender, as though trying to commit the wounds to memory.
Casmir suddenly felt very uncomfortable and aware of his shirtless state. He wanted to step away and put a shirt over his chest, to hide the wounds from the eyes of this freckle-faced ferret.
“Does...” Sara asked tentatively, drawing the Hunter's mind back to her. “Does it still 'urt, like?”
Casmir didn't look at her as he replied. “Sometimes. In cold weather the ones closer to the joints ache. I think it's mostly memory pains, though. The body has a habit of remembering what the mind thinks is better left forgotten.”
The two stood quietly for a moment, before he took her hand, gently pulling it away from him. Turning it over, he focused on her palm, brushing his thumb against it. “I thought so...” he muttered, more to himself than to her. Abruptly, he stepped away, over to a duffle bag near the stereo. He unzipped it, then tossed a pair of black, padded fingerless gloves over to Sara. “Put those on. You're going to need them to punch that bag over there.”
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Post by tsukikoko on Jun 25, 2020 14:11:54 GMT -6
Sara mulled over the scarred man's words, thinking to herself that the opposite could often be true as well - that the mind could remember an injury long after it had fully healed, but perhaps that was the difference in their experiences. The silence lingered, her eyes settled on the point where her soft fingers met his battle-hardened skin. It was foolish, some of the notions she had; that she could protect him the way he had done for her, that she could figure out a way to quell even the dull ache he mentioned, leave his body and potentially mind healthier for it. Foolish... but she thought them all the same. Found herself drawn emotionally closer, more determined to do what she could for this man she had met and been so originally terrified of.
She pressed a little firmer into the scar tissue, opened her mouth as thoughts tumbled without due restraint. "They're amazi-" He took hold of her hand and she fell silent. They're amazing and sad, she had been about to say. Amazing that they'd healed, that he'd struggled, survived and learnt. But sad, too, that they'd been inflicted at all, of the story that no doubt accompanied each and every one. That he still hurt, but had just accepted that as a facet of his life.
With a slight start as gloves were tossed her way, the shifter blinked rapidly. She found herself looking towards the bag he must have been referencing, then back down at her hands, wondering what had prompted the sudden training exercise. "Uhh... why aye Caz, alreet," she said slowly, even as she put the gloves on. She wasn't really dressed for a punching gym session, but at least she was in shorts, she supposed. She tilted her head at him, but figured perhaps he didn't want further discussion on the scars. So, she filed her feelings about that particular subject away for the time being, for his sake. "But, why are ya gittin' me tah deck a bag all of a sudden, like?" She lifted one glove-covered hand, staring at her palm and frowning even as she started to make her way over to the bag. "Somethin' with me 'ands, like?" She didn't know why this was happening, but Sara went along with it nonetheless. She wasn't one to shy away from physical exertion, even if she wasn't in as good a shape as she had been before her attack. Aaron had tried and.. semi-successfully managed to teach her some fighting techniques, but she'd had the rather unfortunate (for productivity's sake) habit of flirting outrageously with him the whole time. Casmir might have a slightly better time.
Might.
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Post by luscen on Jun 25, 2020 14:23:32 GMT -6
“Just trust me,” Casmir replied, pulling a beater on over his chest and rolling his shoulders. He scribbled something onto a slip of paper, then walked over to the punching bag, taping it to the black leather surface. Stepping around behind the piece of gym equipment, he grasped it, patting it with one hand and giving Sara a better look at the leering face of the skin-walker from the other day. Despite being a rough sketch, hastily drawn, it was a rather good likeness, all the same.
“Focus everything you've had a toss with over the last few days into this spot,” he said, nodding towards the facsimile. “Every argument, every nasty word, every bit of hot coal that's stuck in your craw. Then I want you to take a nice, solid swing at it. Hard as you can.”
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Post by tsukikoko on Jun 25, 2020 15:13:02 GMT -6
Was this Casmir trying to help her even more, in his own way, or did he just want to get the measure of her?
Sara raised an eyebrow as she look at the sketch, rather impressed and a little unnerved by it. After all, she didn't particularly want to remember that creepy, smiling man. It was a good sketch though, by all counts. She took up position in front of the bag, one eyebrow raised into her fluffy hairline, even as she reached forward with one arm to judge the distance. A glance at the scarred blonde, the flick of a smile that held something... slightly competitive beneath. "Alreet, like, I'll 'ave a go."
But as she stood there, trying to muster up angry words and sentiments, the shifter found she wasn't particularly good at it. Not that she hadn't been in her fair share of arguments, especially over recent days, but she just... didn't tend to hold onto them. Or at least, not when directed at herself. She exhaled sharply, shoulders slumping and tongue clicking, thinking that perhaps she'd just take a swing without necessarily being angry beneath the punch.
Until a conversation drifted into her mind. Of how some of the board spoke about Isaac. The protective fury she'd felt, compounded by her heated discussion with Aaron not long after. Of Zramek and their treatment of Viktoria, her kidnap and torture of Aaron, the desperation and animal rage that had curdled inside her when she'd found him, tried to spring him free. Of Koji, how they had twisted him, the injuries he'd now sustained from an unknown assailant. Barney. His sneering, malicious face. How scared she had been, of him, of everything. How sick to the back teeth she was of being afraid, of people harming those she cared about. Red began to pulse at the edges of the shifter's vision, violent and dangerous. It was quick to rise, would be just as quick to fade, as she was prone to explosions rather than slow burns. Her skin rippled a touch, threatening a change in the wake of her emotionally tumultuous state.
But she didn't shift. Instead, with a sudden shout, Sara pivoted forward and slammed her fist into the bag, seeing not the skinwalker, but Barnes, as she channelled the flash of anger into her strike. It was fast, decently accurate, her tail even acted as an extra range of motion to instinctively lend more power. Equally, she was unpractised, her form lacking. But the redhead had a lean body, one of a dancer, and it was toned with some returning muscle even if still a little underfed. Her punch didn't have a patch on Casmir's, but it was still a fair attempt, all things considered.
She exhaled with a small smile, shaking out her arms. The punch had been cathartic, a release of some pent up tension if nothing else. "Alreet Mr chiselled, 'ow'd I do, like?" Sara glanced towards him, turning that smile on the Hunter.
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Post by luscen on Jun 25, 2020 15:32:33 GMT -6
“Pretty good, for someone who's never thrown a punch in her life,” Casmir replied with an amused chuckle. She had a bit of weight behind her punch, perhaps owing to the benefit of that tail of hers, but the punch was still a little shallow, with more than a bit of lost energy. And while someone who boxed like it was second nature might accuse her of sloppy form, the truth was it was actually surprising how few people knew how to throw a good punch. She seemed like the studious type, however, so perhaps his idea wasn't so far-fetched after all.
“Let's try a little something, here...” the Hunter mused, stepping out from behind the bag and moving over to Sara. Quite unlike his usual anti-social manner so far, Casmir took hold of Sara's hands, bringing her arms up so that her fists were positioned near her jaw. He then nudged her legs apart, slightly, so that they were aligned with her shoulders. Mismatched eyes looked into her green ones, as he gripped her hands.
“Step into the punch,” he instructed. “Dominant leg forward, hips twisting, and put the weight of your shoulder into the strike.” He stepped back and to the side, slightly, moving Sara's right arm along in a through-line of a proper punch. “Your whole body should flow after your fist. Even the tail. That'll provide you more power.” A sudden, playful smirk tugged at the corner of the Hunter's lips. “With legs like yours, you're probably able to get a pretty good punch going, maybe even knock the bag off its hook” he added, stepping away from Sara and moving back behind the bag.
“Now, try it again. Then tell me how it feels, afterward.”
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Post by tsukikoko on Jun 25, 2020 16:19:11 GMT -6
An amused laugh followed his assessment of her punches. "Ha'way man, ya 'ave me there, like. Tend tah be one for 'eadbutts, apparently, rather than- oh!" Casmir's sudden nearness, the hold he took on her arms and touches to her legs so that she'd widen her stance, took the shifter by surprise. Not that she minded, quite the contrary, she just hadn't expected it of the stoic, physically averse Hunter.
Very firmly telling her hormones to cool off, Sara focused intently on what she was being taught, committing to memory everything he told her (a far easier task, now that she'd had some food and sleep), rather than saying anything flirtatious and most definitely inappropriate. She knew, from experience when first learning to dance, that the movements would not flow without thought, at first. She would have to actively think about every piece of advice, every placement of her feet and twist of her arm or hips until the muscles fell into a rhythm.
When he stepped away from her, she nodded. But her first move wasn't to step forward and punch, it was to throw her foot upwards until it pointed at the ceiling, in a rapid and very flexibly adept kick that her tail acted as a rather handy counterbalance for. There had been no danger of her hitting Casmir, she'd judged the distance for that, but a rush of air certainly swept in front of him from the movement. The fiery haired shifter stuck her tongue out at him. "With legs like these, should be me kick ya worry abowt, like." A wink, before she retracted her leg, looked down at the floor and repositioned herself into a faithful recreation of the stance he'd earlier placed her in.
She looked at the bag, thought back on the instructions she'd been given and first off did a slow step forward and extension of her fist to remind her of the movement. It was a lot to remember, at the moment, but she thought perhaps she could give it a decent crack.
Sara's next strike was far more fluid and powerful enough to rock the bag, even if it didn't 'knock it off it's hook'. The problem now, evident in the way she shook her hand out afterwards, is that the shifter's knuckles weren't accustomed to hit something with that much resistance, using that much force. "Better, I think, like. Felt more powerful, ya know, certainly moved the bag more, but.. cor blimey it bloomin' twinges ya knuckles an' elbow, like." She flexed her fingers, looking at her hands. "Why aye man, though, reckon I'd git used tah it, if I did it more, like."
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Post by luscen on Jul 1, 2020 20:49:42 GMT -6
Casmir watched the gears working in Sara's head, after he'd given her a proper instruction on how to throw a punch with some weight behind it. She was a performer and – given her musculature – a very passionate one. You didn't get to that kind of talent overnight, and even geniuses needed to practice until they had the method down, so the scarred man knew she wasn't one to shy away from a physical challenge; on the contrary, given her competitive smile, she'd be hard-pressed to not pick up the proverbial thrown gauntlet.
Casmir's bangs flapped in the wake of her sudden kick, but the Hunter remained unruffled, though he did favor her with a humorous smirk. “Well, maybe we'll look into some Muay Thai, later,” he mused, stepping back behind the punching bag and bracing it for her. He slapped the side of the canvas invitingly. “First, show me your punch, Freckles.”
The redhead stuck her tongue out at him and winked, earning an amused chuckle in response. Nonetheless, when Sara focused and did the motions for the punch, Casmir paid attention, looking to see if she retained everything he had told her. To his satisfaction, she had the form down; now all she needed was to nail the execution.
Silence fell over the redhead like a mantle, the only motion a few brief twitches of her tail-tip. Then all of a sudden, fist tightening, her eyes flashing like sparks of jade lightning, Sara lunged forward, arm extending and her upper body following through, her hip twisting and her tail snapping. The shifter's fist connected with the bag and – much to Casmir's satisfaction – he felt it press against his stomach, curving inward much more noticeably under the weight of Sara's blow.
It was, all things considered, a very nice punch.
“That's good,” Camir commented, stepping back out from behind the bag, both in regards to the quality of her punch, and her observation on how it felt different from her first attempt. He folded his arms over his chest and looked down at Sara. “The question is: Do you want to do it more? Because I can teach you how to box, if you want to learn.” That stubborn smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, again. “And, if you think you can handle the twinging knuckles and elbow.”
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Post by tsukikoko on Jul 25, 2020 6:02:23 GMT -6
The praise regarding her punch, no matter how measured or brief, had the shifter practically glowing with jubilation - a welcome break to the stressed and frantically worried state of mind she'd been plagued with as of late. Her tail tip flickered wildly, though she managed to stop the entirety of that large, scaled limb from wagging, while her eyes glittered and she just barely restrained herself from fist pumping. Amazing really, what some sleep, good food and coffee could do for one's mood.
Even if, at the back of her head, a nasty little voice plagued Sara with twinges of guilt. How could she be feeling happy and playful, even for a moment, when so many of her friends were suffering? Was this even allowed?
But, equally, she didn't want Casmir to think that he had done nothing to help her, that his efforts had been pointless, when he really had been a godsend - there when she needed him and looking after her far more than she could have asked for. To behave more like her usual self would curb any potential concern he felt for her well-being... right? To be taught to fight, also, would perhaps help Sara hold her own in the future, make her less of a burden for others when she was unable to defend herself. Surely, this, she could allow? Aaron had tried before, to teach her, but she had been a... less than perfect student. Given their relationship, the temptation had been to distract the both of them when she should have been focusing. No matter how chiselled this scarred man might be, that situation wouldn't develop, surely. She could do better, here.
...Right?
In the end, as though her mind craved such a respite from the exhausting negativity and worry it had been drowning in, the shifter's flash of a good mood couldn't be curbed. She placed her fist against her hip and regarded the blonde Hunter as though to size him up. "Why aye man, I reckon I can 'andle ya." She bounced her eyebrows, just the once, and tried, but failed, to keep the twinkling, naughty smile from her face. "Always liked it rough, like."
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Post by luscen on Aug 7, 2020 15:20:49 GMT -6
The brief flick of Sara's reptilian tail drew Casmir's eye, and he had to suppress the urge to laugh- she was like an overgrown dog, trying and failing to entirely stifle her excitement. Something about the sight just seemed to be so innocently absurd that it was impossible to resist being untouched by it.
'I wonder if she plays poker...' came the idle thought as he fought to control his amusement at her higher spirits. It was certainly a much better change compared to her state last night, and the scarred man found himself unexpectedly relieved and comforted by her return to what he perceived as normal, for her.
At the redhead's words, Casmir did laugh this time. Surprisingly, it was genuine amusement, something he hadn't properly felt in a long time. “You say that now,” he replied dryly with a shrug of his shoulder. “But I happen to like it rough, myself. Try and see if you can maintain that enthusiasm by the third week.” He reached into the pocket of his leggings, pulling out the stereo remote and turning the music off.
“I'll have to come up with a good routine for you, of course... Though given your choice in hobbies, I don't think you should see much of a change in terms of physical routine?” he remarked as he turned his attention back to her, raising an eyebrow at her suggestively and tilting his head. “Dancing like the kind you were doing the other day isn't something you can just do right out of the gate, after all...”
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Post by tsukikoko on Aug 13, 2020 18:56:07 GMT -6
The sound of Casmir's laugh lit up the expression of his red-haired companion, more effectively than even the other events that had brightened her mood over the last half hour. She liked to see other people smile, laugh, find joy whether in something she had said or done, or the things in the world around themselves. Especially in one as stoic and stone-faced as Casmir, to see him laugh, truly and genuinely laugh, rather than a humourless imitation, was nice to see.
So much so, that her immediate response was a continuation of the flirtatious banter, "Try an' see if ya can keep up with me, luv. I 'ave crackin' stamina. Why aye, 'ad tah git meself well fit for that dancin' ya saw, like." Again, that flash of a mischievous smile, borderline.. sultry. "But it's me pole dancin' that's the real physical show. Does wonders for ya core, like." She thought back on their first meeting, the dance performance that had marked her return to a full routine, that it had come after such a heated interaction with Strid... She needed to go see him again, not to mention his brother...
The shifter paused, her expression creasing abruptly into one of both guilt and concern. This was fun, she was genuinely enjoying Casmir's company, but should she really still be here, with everything else that was happening? Now that she'd had a moment to consider it, she had checked for text alerts from Aaron, but hadn't registered the time - didn't really know how long she'd been asleep. Would Bruse be panicking? She couldn't hear him here, or at least, his connection to her was extremely faint. She'd have to check on him, apologise for how she'd been of late. Did she have time to make herself look at least presentable before she went to visit Koji? Christ, she hadn't missed the time she'd promised him, had she!? In a flash, she had her phone out of her pocket and in her hand, firing up the screen to check the time. Again, a brief flicker of confusion about how her device even worked in the Safehouse, but that was by the by. What did matter was that it was still the early hours of the morning; she'd slept a few hours, enough to have a fair bit more energy, but not so long that she'd ruined the schedule of her day.
What a relief.
She breathed out, slowly, releasing a new knot of tension in her shoulders and put her phone away again. With a sheepish look in the Hunter's direction, one hand behind her head, she recalled the way she'd been with the Hunter too. What she'd said, how she'd said it, how much of his personal space she'd invaded. She puffed out her cheeks, shook her head to mentally shake herself out of another mounting guilt spiral and instead focused on tasks at hand. "But, I best be gannin' 'ome soon, like... need tah visit our Koji in-" a half second pause but, given how much she'd already said about the Genasi's battered condition, obfuscating where he'd been placed seemed ridiculous, "-the 'ospital, an', ya know, 'ave a shower before'and." A small, but nonetheless authentic smile. "But I 'onestly do want tah train with ya, if it's alreet, like."
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Post by luscen on Aug 27, 2020 4:11:43 GMT -6
“So I've heard,” Casmir replied as the two left the gym and made their way to the kitchen, still feeling a bit more upbeat thanks to Sara's infectious mood. “Never quite sure why it was called that, myself. It's not so much 'dancing' as it 'swinging,' is it? I suppose I could see the appeal though... It's the same kind of draw a kid on a playground has with the jungle gym- you see it, and you have to mess around with it.”
He reached into the fridge for a bottle of water. It was... unexpectedly pleasant, having her here. This Safehouse had been his one respite from the world of the Hunt; a place to go to find a moment's peace, but it was never a place of rest. Not really. Not for him. If he wasn't reading tomes on monsters and demons and consulting his notes on cryptozoology, then he was checking his weapons, or training his body. If it wasn't any of those, then it was sleeping or eating in order to be prepared for the next target, the next mission, the next step on his path.
A path that had a very expected end.
The thought caused the scarred man to frown, not that his guest would have been able to see it, thanks to him rooting around in the ice box. He cleared his expression before standing back up, taking note of the way Sara was looking at her phone. Checking for messages, thoughts drifting back to her daily concerns. Hopefully she wouldn't be drawn back down to such a low point as before.
“I'd be happy to train you whenever it's convenient for you,” Casmir answered, taking a sip of water. “But before you go back to being a responsible saxophone-siren...” he paused, tapping the plastic bottle with a finger before continuing. His red-and-blue gaze met her green one, and his face lost its humor.
“I... may be able to do something. For your friend.” he explained slowly. “Don't go dividing the skin on the bear, now; there are some... precautions I need to take, and it's kind of complicated, besides. But-” he gave a brief shrug of his shoulders, before leaning back against the counter. “I thought I'd toss that coin and see how it landed, anyway.”
He tapped the bottle again, expression unreadable as he waited for the redhead's reply.
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Post by tsukikoko on Sept 11, 2020 8:08:31 GMT -6
The 'swinging' comment in regards to pole dancing had earned Casmir an amused snort and retorts to the tune of, "Eee man, ya just 'aven't seen quality dancin', like, I'll show ya sometime." Before the shifter had become distracted by her phone and the guilt of needing to go home. She hadn't noticed the shift in his demeanour while he retrieved the water, partially because of her distracted state and by in large because he'd smoothed his expression before looking back at her.
She did, however, notice the seriousness in his heterochromic eyes just before his explanation followed and her entire world came to a slow, shuddering stop. His words ricocheted around inside her head, bouncing off images of Koji's battered state, his frustration and despair at being so bedridden; Aaron's exhausted concern over the Genasi and their lack of ability to help him. Was there... really something Casmir could do?
Sara wore her heart on her sleeve. She would never be a good poker player. Every single one of her swirling emotions flickered across her face as she stared back at the Hunter; disbelief, excitement, a motherly protectiveness of Koji, concern and hope. She didn't speak or move for a few moments, aside from the twitching end of her tail, which seemed caught somewhere between anxiety and enthusiasm.
Then, very cautiously, her own expression both fierce and ever hopeful, the shifter took a single step towards Casmir and asked, "What can ya do, like? An' what precautions do ya need tah take, is it dangerous?" Sara's mind was racing a million miles a minute, trying to figure out what it might be he could do, what Koji might make of it, how she could get the Hunter into his room, whether she even should. But... if he could ease the Genasi's suffering... she had to trust him. Had to try.
A gentle exhalation, an attempt to slow the racing heart in her chest. "An' is there anythin' ya'd need from me, like?"
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