Gardner Presley tipped her head back and looked up at the building. It was a brick-facade structure, with what appeared to be a single small window on each floor, of the two or three floors there were. From the sidewalk, she could already hear frequent dull thuds, followed by some kind of yelling. The words were impossible to make out from here.

Gardner adjusted her bag over one shoulder, straightened her skirt, smoothed down any stray hair: even if she was at this place, where no one would be watching, it was still habit to make her appearance as outwardly flawless as possible. She tightend the tie around her hair and took a deep breath, brushing her fingertips over the bruise on her face which she knew she had covered with makeup. She wasn't about to let herself be bullied any more. Gardner might be pretty, and her body might not be very muscular, but her will was strong; she would learn how to defend herself.

With that, Gardner Presley took her first steps towards the training facility. She was currently in the middle of "sampling" different fighting styles, and as of yet, nothing had really caught her eye. Fencing was her favourite, and the one which she could practice most easily, so it seemed likely that she would return to that after a string of failed attempts. Nevertheless, the part of her which was much more hands-on considered boxing a likely candidate.

Once inside, everything smelled very notably of sweat. She brought up one smooth hand against her mouth and nose, the opals on her bracelet catching the dim light, the gold chains sliding together and slipping down her wrist. Even if she was not quite as prissy as some Crystal Academy girls, it was true that while she was dressed this way and on her best behaviour she could occasionally forget how to be tough. Skirts seemed to drain her intelligence. Gardner Presley took another step, and another, finally motivating herself to climb the stairs to the lobby of the boxing school. She didn't even know such places existed, but it made sense that everyone had to train somewhere.

Including herself. The lobby didn't really have a desk, so much as a table with fold-up legs near the wall, and stacks of old papers everywhere. She managed to read one, but it looked like gibberish to her. Perhaps they were fighting stats? The woman behind the desk was pretty, with blonde hair pulled up away from her face, and she was mumbling something. It looked like she was calculating something using those papers and writing it into a ledger. Presley approached the woman, and let her fingertips linger on the table's edge. "I'm interested in boxing, how would I get involved here?" she asked, with a sweet smile. It had been an awful idea to come here right after school, when she wasn't in her civilian outfit yet; as a student, she had a different persona, and it certainly wouldn't get her far here.

And it didn't. The woman looked up, arched a brow, and said, "There's an age restriction. You're too young, little miss Crystal." She looked back down at her papers, pushed her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose, and went back to transcribing some numbers. Gardner was not one to give up easily. She walked past the woman, through the door, and into the training rooms themselves. The first room was the ring itself, a practice ring, and two fighters were going at it with no gloves.

A boy walked up behind her, and without introducing himself, said, "Fighting barefisted means less damage to the face, ergo less brain damage."

"Was that your way of introducing yourself?" Gardner replied, turning to face him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No, but it did get you to talk to me," he answered, seemingly unphased by her chilly reply. He smiled, and held out his hand; his knuckles were essentially shredded, and broad. "Devlin," he said, as Gardner surprised him by accepting the offered hand and shaking it firmly, regardless of its condition.

"Presley," she replied.

"You waiting for your boyfriend, or...?" he asked, his eyes widening as if he was completely innocent in asking.

"No," she snorted. Who has time, or energy, for one of those? she thought to herself. "I'm here to fight."

"You don't look like much of a fighter," he said, though he seemed to have cheered right back up to hear wasn't there for someone. "Wanna see some tricks?"

"You're pretty friendly, given I'm a stranger," Gardner accused, suspicious. "If you try to take a kidney, terrible things will befall you, Devlin," she threatened, her brows pressed together.

"I'd better teach you how to fight fast, then, or you'll never get your revenge," he finished, grinning even wider. He clapped her on the shoulder and gestured for her to follow him over to a group of other boxers, all clearly learning, and nearer to Gardner's age than the ones fighting in the ring.

Even if it wasn't as elegant as fencing, perhaps there was something to be said for the enthusiasts of boxing at this place. Gardner felt comfortable, even though she had just arrived. That was about when the woman finally got her act together and realized Gardner had just walked in, however. She came through the door, saw her talking with the others, and apparently cared so little that she went back out to her papers. What exactly was she calculating...?