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 Posted: Wed Feb 01, 2012 2:37 pm
Presley couldn't get the dry feeling out of her mouth. It was the combination of blood, sweat and sand she had become accustomed to after her unofficial brawls. Disgusting. She didn't mind it, really, except that it made her infinitely thirsty. She ran water over her face and hair, rubbing it against the back of her neck, cleaning her hands gently. They were cut at the knuckles, not exactly ladylike. Presley cleaned them especially well and rubbed some cream on them, before bandaging them up gently. This was the routine for the immediate time period after she boxed.
On her way out, she wasn't looking where she was going, and it seemed like she was about to collide with someone. If her trajectory continued the way it had been going, anyway. Presley pulled her white leopard print hoodie closer to her, comforted by the faux-fur collar, and shoved the sleeves up to her elbows, revealing some rather gruesome bruises from both breaking into buildings and boxing.
Regardless of whether or not she bumped into the guy, she recognized him in a few minutes: "Hey! I saw you in a competition, didn't I?.. You weren't bad." Presley winced as she accidentally bumped her calves together, hitting two bruises she'd actually gotten from running into a coffee table. Not exactly heroic by any means.
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Posted: Sat Feb 04, 2012 4:28 pm
Originally Jett hadn’t intended to pay the girl much mind; he’d been aware that they were on a course for collision, but he had no intention of moving. If this girl wanted to play chicken, fine. He was game. Until she started talking to him. Not that he minded, he just hadn’t expected it.
Tilting his head a bit, Jett tried to recognize her. She didn’t look like the sort of girl he’d have expected to be watching a competition. To him, she looked frail and delicate. Closer inspection made him question his initial ruling of her; she was covered in scrapes and bruises. “Not bad?” he prompted. His last competition hadn’t been his best, but he’d won his matches and hadn’t sustained too much damage—that was enough for him. Maybe she was just a fan of the other guy?
He shrugged it off, shifting the weight of the bag on his shoulder. “Thanks. You ah…box, yourself?” He couldn’t be sure, but she was bruised and recognized him from competition, so maybe she had a boyfriend that dragged her everywhere and roughed her up a bit—or maybe she was actually interested in the sport.
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Posted: Sat May 19, 2012 10:16 pm
Perhaps somewhat aggressively, then, she had allowed her shoulder to glance off of his rather than move completely out of the way-- which was when she recognized him, and then her typical look of indifference or Leave me the hell alone which she put on out of habit slipped away and she smiled in a far friendlier way. She hadn't been a fan of the other guy, or either of them really; she just watched idly while waiting on her trainer. "Yeah, not bad," she reffirmed, wrinkling her nose a bit.
She wasn't about to sing his praises, after all. She didn't really sing anyone's praises. She was certain that if he wanted that from someone, he'd already have it. It wasn't an insult, though; she meant that she'd enjoyed watching him box, and obviously if she recognized him she had paid enough attention to know his face.
Still, Presley normally kept to her own world, so she was kind of feeling like maybe she shouldn't have said anything, and kept on moving. The reason why she looked like she did was that she had been sent, as soon as she was old enough, to study at Crystal Academy, and had subsequently learned how to put on a very good front. Since graduating, moving out and excommunicating herself from her parents, she had ceased to look quite as feminine, but nevertheless looked pretty delicate for a boxer, she supposed. It was habit.
"Yeah. I'm still learning, but it's going pretty well. I think. I can't say. I'm definitely better than when I started," she finished. She slipped the hood of her white leopard-print hoodie off so she could see him better. "Am I interrupting something, though? I didn't mean to keep you," she added, with a tilt of her head. Crystal Academy manners slipping through automatically. There was something really nice about finally talking to another boxer, but... at the same time, Presley pretty much expected to be dismissed and to avoid repeating this awkward exchange.
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Posted: Sun May 20, 2012 3:23 pm
“Interrupting, no. I’m going somewhere but not really in a hurry,” he answered honestly enough. Jett had a curious thing for girls who didn’t quite fit the norm, and standing before this pale, bruised, leopard-print clad boxer, he couldn’t help but be curious. There was also the fact that she had not only not bothered to step aside so they wouldn’t bump into each other, but—if he was correct—she had even knocked him with her shoulder.
Despite her ladylike manners, that had not been ladylike.
But at least that meant she wasn’t a pushover. Even a few of the girls he’d seen boxing around here had been a bit too passive, and for as out of place as this one looked, there was no denying that she probably packed more power than she was letting on. Any girl that was willing to brush shoulders with a guy she’d watched beat the s**t out of someone twice her size was either very stupid or very skilled.
Polite as always—at least for the ladies (and good looking ones, at that)—Jett extended his hand in greeting. “Jett Draven,” he introduced.
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Posted: Mon May 21, 2012 9:01 am
Presley nodded when he said he wasn't really in a hurry. She was going somewhere too, obviously; she didn't live at this place. But she really wasn't in a hurry, because she lived alone in a small apartment above the studio where she pierced, so that wasn't really missing her too badly. Even if she did have some kind of fern that seemed incredibly finnicky. She had been under the impression ferns were easy to care for, which was why she accepted the plant in the first place. No such luck, regrettably. Presley was not exactly adept at caring for living things.
At first, Presley hadn't packed enough power to pass for a breeze in the grass. Now, she was working her way up to competitions as emphatically as she could. Her hours at the studio were regular, patrols slotted in where she could, so training took up basically all her remaining free time. After graduating from Crystal, she hadn't kept a lot of her old friends. Presley made a conscious effort not to think or talk about it.
"Presley," she offered back, extending one of her hands in return to clasp his and shake firmly. Not bone-crushing firm, mind, just... the kind of handshake that communicated that she was who she was, and was fairly unyielding about it. "Well, technically my name is Gardner Presley, but I never use my first name," she added, and then wrinkled her nose briefly, grimacing. Gardner wasn't much of a first name, and it mostly served to remind her that her name was probably chosen at random from a book of thousands of other terrible names. "Jett Draven... what a good name," she said, and then sighed, with a wry smile. It even sounded like he could be the protagonist in a horror flick, the other thing she really enjoyed in life. Boxing, and horror flicks.
Presley shifted her weight, knocking the bag at her feet briefly. Her own bag, which she'd slipped off shortly after bumping into him. "So, Jett, ah... I guess I shouldn't just ask you a bunch of questions..." she said, after being about to pepper him with things like What do you do apart from box, anyway? or How long have you been training? or Where are you headed? which was probably the nosiest of all the questions. Presley had probably gone too long without speaking to anyone but her trainer, colleagues and clients again. Clients were OK most of the time, but lately she'd gotten a slew of tourist types who would get something pierced on a lark and then gush about it. Or whine about how much it hurt.
Presley, thinking of that, looked up at him and said, "At least you'll never complain about pain, I guess. Unless you're the kind who does?" Which might sound like it was out of left field, and Presley rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly realizing that. Perhaps after this she'd grab some kind of edible thing to alleviate the embarrasment of trying to hold an actual conversation with someone whom she'd seen fight; he seemed nice to talk to, too. It was, all in all, a nice run in. Even if she had literally ran her shoulder into his.
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Posted: Tue May 22, 2012 12:32 pm
When Presley complimented his name, he was still considering how odd ‘Gardner’ was for a child, though that didn’t quite seem like the sort of thing you tell a stranger who you weren’t trying to chase away. Both Gardner and Presley seemed to be very masculine names and he found amusement that such a dainty girl would be donning either. He liked it; a ‘Becky’ or ‘Sue’ wouldn’t have suited the girl in front of him and her name made her seem all the more interesting.
He didn’t mind keeping a conversation with her, even if he wasn’t quite sure where it was going. Truthfully, he’d been busy with school and work, neither of which had allowed him to get his daily dose of social interaction. Sure, he could have buddied up with some of the guys here, but people here were usually competitive and friendships were short lived when they hinged on who punches who harder. “Complain about pain? Not really my cup of tea. Some guys might, but I don’t see the point in it. I don’t come here to get hit, I come here to do the hitting, but if I couldn’t handle some sore spots, I sure as hell picked the wrong hobby. Nah, if you want to ask a bunch of questions, go ahead, I don’t mind.”
It wasn’t often that he got to talk about boxing, anyway; his girlfriend hadn’t ever shown any interest in the field, and the only the only time he ever conversed about the sport was when he was teaching someone the basics. There was a huge difference in having a conversation with someone about the sport and teaching them how to throw a punch, so finding someone that shared a mutual interest was a bit refreshing. Particularly when it wasn’t just some bulky, sweaty man. Jett would take a conversation with a pretty girl over another guy any day—and it wasn’t often that one as unique as Presely wandered into the field.
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Posted: Thu May 31, 2012 9:45 pm
It had been a while since Presley had interacted with anyone on a legit basis. The last time she'd actually spent time with a friend, it was an old childhood friend with whom she'd watched a bunch of horror movies and had a sleepover for old time's sake. Cute girl, Presley kind of missed her just then. She stretched, rolled her shoulders and thought about what she wanted to ask, if she had permission to do so.
"In that case... my first question: before you go home to whoever you're going home to, wanna grab some fries? Friendly ones. Greasy, delicious friendly fries," Presley suggested, grabbing her bag off of the ground. "I'm starving a little here, and hey, who's gonna tell?" Her careful Crystal-taught english slipped into the coloquial way she normally liked to speak. Presley unzipped her white leopard-print hoodie and let it hang open, letting herself enjoy a breeze. After all the training, she could definitely use some fries and a good airing-out.
Presley picked up her bag, gripped it in one hand and rested it against her back, bracing the back of her hand against her shoulder, and smiled at Jett, fluttering her lashes. "Besides, what if poor defenseless me is attacked on my way to fries?" she suggested, putting the Crystal-academy styled voice back in its place, before laughing and shrugging. "Nah, but seriously, I love malt vinegar, come on, I'll even let you dominate the jukebox. I want to hear about how you picked up boxing."
She took a few steps backwards, still facing Jett, her mouth quirked up in a half-smile. Normally she was a little less... friendly, preferring to isolate herself. Tonight, it seemed like she was actually willing to make a friend. Or scare one away, it was probably a 50/50 toss.
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Posted: Sun Jun 03, 2012 4:20 pm
Jett was typically the type of person to stick to routine, and after matches or training, routine deemed he indulge in some fast food. There were no rules that stated he had to do so alone, and—hey. She said ‘friendly’ fries, what would Raven throw a stink about? It wasn’t like she didn’t have friends to go hang out herself, and it wasn’t Jett’s fault that he just so happened to be spending his time with another female.
“You can keep the jukebox to yourself, I’m content with a meal,” he said after very slight contemplation. Heaving his own bag rather effortlessly, he followed after the girl. There were plenty of the places in the area that served fries, though he gathered not so many would sport a jukebox. He figured she had a place in mind, and as the locations he was most familiar with in the area consisted of excessively fattening meals without the malt or jukeboxes, he wasn’t going to challenge her direction.
As he walked, he didn’t seem to mind talking about himself—what self-absorbed male ever would? He was his favorite topic, especially when he had something to boast about. Boxing was something he enjoyed and had plenty of room to brag about his skills. “Now, I’d be more interested in hearing about how you picked up boxing. I started,” he shrugged, not bothering to count, “A few years ago, pretty early on in high school. Mom said I had too much energy and not enough outlets, and I guess she figured if I was picking fights with professionals, I’d stop picking fights in school. She was half right.”
It wasn’t like that part of history was exceptionally personal, so he didn’t mind going into a little detail. “She figured if I had something to keep me busy I’d stay out of trouble after school. She didn’t much like the crowd I was with. I don’t really blame her, there were a bunch of morons. Fun, though,” he made sure to inform. “If they hadn’t been entertaining I wouldn’t have wasted my time with them. Buuuut,” he shrugged again. “She got me involved in some classes and I guess I just stuck with it. She regretted it, afterwards. Boxing is a great outlet when you’re just working out, but after I started doing competitions?” He couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, mom didn’t like me coming home with shiners. What about you? How’d you get into it?”
Boys were presumed to be naturally aggressive, but girls? Jett had met far too few girls willing to throw a punch, much less make a sport out of it.
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Posted: Tue Jan 15, 2013 9:24 pm
Presley didn't know a lot about this guy, and she knew even less about relationships, but she had learned rather awkwardly and quickly that it was an important defensive mechanism to preface all invitations with the word friendly. She couldn't even count the number of times some guy had thought that she was asking them out, and that had usually ended very poorly-- tact was never her strong point. One time she'd even laughed at the dude. Okay, maybe twice.
Isolation usually fixed all of those problems, though. And in this case, she was stoked to get fries with a fellow boxer. "Nah, I don't really care about the jukebox. It just seems to be an alpha male thing, getting to pick what I get to tone out," she added, her quirked smile spreading. Presley picked her bag up off the ground, slung it over one shoulder, and headed out towards the diner she had in mind.
The more she learned about him and the less she had to reveal about herself, the happer Presley'd be; her past wasn't exactly a favourite topic of conversation, and to her anything that wasn't the current now was the past. She waved a hand idly, her half-smile returning, as he mentioned he'd rather hear how she took up boxing, and listened to his story instead.
"Always wanted to be strong," she said, "And nobody ever figured I could do it. I look harmless, right?" Presley laughed, and fanned herself as if immitating a beauty queen on TV. "Look like glass, punch like they're going to regret it for the rest of their miserable lives," she added, "Crystal Academy."
"I had a lot of rough edges. The contributors of my DNA decided they didn't want to file them down, so I found ways to deal with it. Too bad instead of filing them down, it sharpened them," she said, grinning as she pushed the door of the diner open with her back. It was so close to where she trained that it was convenient.
It was clean, if small, inside. She liked sitting in the shiny vinyl booths, and stacking all the cream containers into a pyramid. "I can only imagine what her face looked like when she realized what competitions'd mean for your pretty face," she added, with a wink. "Are you ready? Because I am starving, and I am so stoked for fries I could punch a saint in the face right now."
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2013 10:57 pm
'Contributors of my DNA' was an interesting way to refer to one's parents, though Jett figured it wasn't worth delving into. He offered a quick scan of the room before nodding. "Punch a saint?" He gave her a look; even knowing that she was interested in boxing, he couldn't imagine it. It was a humorous thought, however, and a grin twisted its way onto his face. "You sound like a girl who likes her fries. Yeah, I'm ready."
He had his own appetite to worry about, so he simply gestured for her to lead the way. While he had no issue with settling in to a new place and getting comfortable, that didn't stop him from taking a backseat every now and then. While glancing around, trying to decide if any one booth was better than another and if they were supposed to go find someone to order or wait, he prompted, "Do you do competitions or are do you do it just to—what, get stronger? Work out stress?"
Break stereotypical gender roles and give her parents as much trouble as possible?
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Posted: Fri Jan 25, 2013 11:57 am
Presley looked up from whatever she was staring at and admitted: "Yeah, that was a weird thing to say, wasn't it?" Her mouth twisted into what appeared to be a mocking expression, directed towards herself. Then, muttering: "Who talks like that?" She shook her head and grinned. "Can't help the fries thing. I figure you can have one guilty pleasure, and this is my one. I could have used it on more interesting things, probably, but I guess I know what I want. And what I want is guilt-free fries."
Presley slid into the booth, lounging out around one of its sides, burying the urge to set her feet on the bench. She could hear her Crystal Academy training chattering on in her head. Sit up straight, posture good? Eye contact, feet on the floor, miss Presley! A lady should never shed dirt on the upholstery!
Well, she could see why that was necessary. It was kind of gross to sit in someone's shoe dirt, not that dirt bothered her particularly. Presley flagged a waitress down, who seemed to recognize her but not past the friendly greeting that indicated she came here regularly enough. She ordered fries, and asked for water. She added on malt vinegar as a second thought; not to drink, but for the fries.
After Jett got whatever he wanted, if he did want anything at that moment, she thought about how to answer his question. "Outlet for dormant aggression, perhaps? And I did get tired of being weak. I don't have... well, I'm not as strong as I wish I was," she finished.
Silently, in her head, she just kept chanting Fries fries fries.
"What do you do, apart from boxing?" Presley asked.
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Posted: Thu Jan 31, 2013 1:29 am
Jett himself, while valuing the heavy diet of a serious boxer, had hardly ever seriously abided by it. He was getting a burger, damn it, and nothing was going to stop him.
He leaned back, stretching out on his side of the booth. "Seems like a good reason to want to box. Not wanting to be weak," he clarified. "At the very least, I bet there aren't many girls 'round your part of town that can keep up with you. As for what I do," he feigned a shrug, as if he wasn't interested in talking about himself.
Except, Jett loved to talk about himself.
"Going to DCU, studying business. Dabbling in stocks. Work at an antique store—JW Antqiues, do some appraising." Wander around Destiny City in the late hours of the night, looking for trouble. "Probably nothing too interesting. What about you?"
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