futaille | Open Post: La savate et le chausson

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.

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From:

futaille

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

From:

sagramore

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

From:

futaille

And as that happens, Grantaire speeds up his fighting.

From:

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.

From:

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.

From:

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."

From:

futaille

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

From:

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."

From:

futaille

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

From:

sagramore

"Like a wolf?" He laughs.

From:

futaille

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

From:

sagramore

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

From:

futaille

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

From:

sagramore

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

From:

futaille

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

From:

sagramore

He frowns. "Didst like him."

From:

futaille

He nods. "I liked him and his Laertes both. Everything I heard about their world is awful, though."

From:

sagramore

"He was horrible to Asmodean. Perhaps that's why."

From:

futaille

"I think his first instinct might have been to be horrible? It flared out pretty quickly, though."

From:

sagramore

"I think that says something about thy company."

From:

futaille

He grins. "I thrive when someone is grumpy at me."

From:

sagramore

Right, the Enjolras business. Sagramore actually... doesn't like that much! "Hmm," he says.

From:

futaille

It's not just Enjolras, in fairness. "So yes. They were... an experience. And I hope they manage to find a bit of safety and room to breathe on their world."