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The mention of Alexis had him making a frustrated noise, a quick one-two-three of punches given to the bag. "Their case file gives me a headache," he spoke, "on top of the headache they give me. Lapis bloody Lazuli but with less control and more murder." A breath escaped and he took a back for a moment. "They are lucky the didn't end up permanently locked away."

Yet Jeremiah apparently cared enough in this reality as well to do something as he would have in the other. His head tilted, his expression open (it always was around Aleksy) and slightly inquisitive. It was the look Aleksy had and it made him raise an eyebrow in question.

"They only listen when something beats them down," Jeremiah replied, coming to a stop. His eyes searched Aleksy's face, looking for something, before he answered.

"It's superficial in that people simply know that I've magic," his voice drops, "but that is it. Now, more than ever, I have to be more mindful of myself. I have to keep an eye on things on the other side to make sure they don't impact here, make sure that those who do have magic do not do something that might jeopardize others as well.

"The more I think about it, the more I realize I am caged far worse than before. It just looks a touch prettier than before."

Jeremiah's face did not mirror Aleksy's but there was a twitch to his lips that said enough. That he echoed the sentiments.

"Certainly." A palm pressed to the punching bag to still it entirely before he raised an eyebrow. "Are we actually going to bet something?"

"I'd offer my time but I think you've got that regardless. Most things are on the table, sparing anything ridiculous." Jeremiah did not, in all honesty, mind betting with Aleksy.

"I suppose if you're, and win, I can tell you things about another you- you ask the questions. I win, I get to ask you questions."

Then he was letting out of huff. "Why am I not surprised he was a better fighter? I saw pictures of us," rather beta Jeremiah and Aleksy, "at some kind of class for fighting." Martial or otherwise, he had not really been able to tell.

Jeremiah laughed, something warm and happy. He gestured for Aleksy to lead. "Just chocolate-dipped kholotz? Nothing else? Certainly could make you something else if you're going to wipe the floor with me."

He followed Aleksy, stretching out and rolling his shoulders. Not that he was not starting to pace. Moving and planning out what to do.

Planning a spar.

The world was ending.

"I don't have to say anything if you're saying that ..." Jeremiah smirked just a bit but it was gone because he truly was not expecting to get herded by Aleksy of all people. (Or perhaps he should not have been surprised.)

The giggling was a distraction in itself, the absurdity not lost on him. He was letting out a breath, cheeks faintly flushed, as he stretched an arm above his head until he heard his back pop. Like Aleksy sitting on his chest was nothing new. There was a smile on his face just because Aleksy looking so pleased with himself was good to see. "I think I clearly need to be doing more training on this side. I am obviously slacking.

"I also owe you twenty and breakfast."

"That will have to wait, unless you want me to come over and make it at your place?" Jeremiah rolled and pushed himself up. His hair was a mess though he did not seem to care so much (even if it was spiking too many directions and he was having to blow it from his eyes).

"I was planning on both of those things," he chuckled. "Fifteen minutes?" Then they could have that breakfast.