Open Post: La savate et le chausson

[futaille]

Much to his satisfaction, Grantaire has been able to keep up with many of his hobbies unabated during his time at the mansion. Not all of them, though, mostly because they were ones he'd go to specific spots for, and with those spots not being here in addition to an abundance of his other hobbies, they more or less fell by the wayside.

However, a recent chat with Dionysus has reminded him that he has very much neglected his 'hitting things' level. Although he didn't find a crash test dummy, the thought being on his mind ended up in him stumbling upon a small gym tucked away, complete with some equipment including a standing punching bag.

So he's discarded his waistcoat and cravat over a bench and is practicing his savate¹.

¹French kickboxing! During R's time it was basically for streetfighting, and just beginning to get formalized, but there are some cool vintage videos on youtube (Here and here) to give the... vibe.

Comments

[futaille]

A grin. "Adverbially."

[sagramore]

"Unconstitutionally."

[futaille]

"Delightedly."

[sagramore]

"Orgiastically."

[futaille]

"Sagramorically."

[sagramore]

"Erratically," pronouncing it r-ratically.

[futaille]

He sweeps an exaggerated bow. "You win."

[sagramore]

"My thanks." He aims a not particularly serious kick at Grantaire's calf.

[futaille]

He turns and lifts his leg to avoid it. "Of course."

[sagramore]

Sagramore laughs and this time he begins making more of a concerted effort to start kickboxing with Grantaire.

[futaille]

Grantaire returns the effort, then, although moving a bit more slowly and telegraphing his moves more than he normally would.

[sagramore]

This is quite enough for Sagramore to adapt to him. It's like dancing, and before long he's comfortably matching Grantaire.

[futaille]

And as that happens, Grantaire speeds up his fighting.

[sagramore]

So he goes faster in turn, still matching. Thanks to all the work he and Laertes have been doing he has the stamina to keep pace.

[futaille]

Grantaire, in this case, is the one who runs out of energy first. Between the practice he'd been doing before Sagramore entered and the fact that he hasn't been doing much in the way of physical activity¹ since arriving, he starts to flag. He steps back and holds up a hand. "Give me a moment."

¹.... You know what I mean.

[sagramore]

"Of course," dropping his stance immediately. Grantaire looks very good flushed with exertion, and he reaches out for him, heedless of the sweatiness of them both, to cup Grantaire's jaw. "Thou art so handsome, my heart."

[futaille]

He leans his head just a bit into Sagramore's touch, huffing out a short breathless laugh. "Even like this?"

[sagramore]

"Especially like this. Thou'rt flushed, thy brow is wet--" He brushes away a sweat-damp curl from Grantaire's forehead. "I could devour thee."

[futaille]

An amused if still slightly exhausted little smile. "Like a wolf."

[sagramore]

"Like a wolf?" He laughs.

[futaille]

He shrugs. "The other you was a werewolf, so it came to mind."

[sagramore]

"The other me was a werewolf," he repeats.

[futaille]

"Yes. Werewolf. Had you not heard yet?"

[sagramore]

"I know he was a miserable son of a bitch but no one mentioned that."

[futaille]

"I don't know if I'd say that. Sad, though."