Dependent Meeting {Grim}

[Anatra]

James Michael Howard

[presto] biography. [/presto] District Two Eighteen Alternate Picture Soundtrack Song I am a mountain I am the sea

Of course, there was nobody to wake up to, no breakfast scent, freshly cooked by a loving mother. It just simply didn't exist, not now. It did a long time ago. Now, it's just him. There was nothing that a brisk walk could do any harm to. Unless you happened to be allergic to the thin air, you weren't going to go wrong by warming up your body this way. With the cold to contend with, James slips on his black sweatpants and a thick jacket. His feet are light on the pavement, even with the cold tightening everything he treads on into a denseness only scientists can explain. Soon enough, and expected enough, his blood is coursing its way through the veins that can now heat him up from what has been his fifth consecutive cold night. He hasn't been able to afford heating for those nights, mostly because he lives alone. He isn't poor, he is just ill-prepared. Nobody taught him how to pay for the heating. He stops only for a minute, just enough to catch his breath, "Christ." he utters privately. The cold bites him, especially when he is idle. Coincidence would have him right outside the training center, where he would normally go anyway on a morning like this. It's well heated, and the people inside are only there to make your blood boil anyway. It's a catch-twenty-two, though, as he will also have to train instead of work. Working would get him money. But, what's another cold night? His gloved hands cling to the handle as he sweeps it open roughly. He is a strong lad, but the doors are resistant from the freeze. He frees his hands of the black mits that were warming them, and he slips off his jacket to his red t-shirt. Red notably is his favourite colour. It's not an edgy trait of his, he just genuinely likes it for no particular reason other than taste. He peers around, unknowing as to where to start. Fate would have him standing in the hand-to-hand combat ring, but only whilst he stocks up on his water from the tap.

Extra Information:

[grim.]

             
                               Tobiah Cashmere
                                            D2

      This morning was just the same as my last. I make my way to the training center, I was one of the first people there as usual. When I arrive I slide my cotton duffle bag off of my shoulder, and onto a near bench. It was rather cold this morning, and the training center wasn't to warm either.
      It will most likely warm up once all of the other sweaty trainees make their way here. I slide my black sweater off of my shoulders and lay it across my bag. I slip off my sneakers and slide off my jeans. I am in a snug fitting tank and a pair of short spandex pants. I prefer to train barefoot, so I leave the shoes off. 
     I pull my brunet hair back into a loose pony-tail. Next I wrap my hands with white boxing tape. It made it much easier to train for longer. I also wrap my feet somewhat, to avoid any burns. I make my way to the hanging sand bag, with my towel over my shoulder and my bottle in hand. I set my towel and bottle near the punching bag, and begin to strike it. It was lighter then I would of hoped, but I would make due. 
     My head was still spinning from the night before. I had found myself drowning in a bottle of scotch, and one to many pain medication tablets. I was late waking up this morning, luckily most of everyone had already left the house, so no one was home to notice the hangover in my eyes. 
    It begins to become later in the morning and more people start to enter the training center. I see a group of girls a few guys. They all seem to travel in packs, its intimidating. I was still thrusting my know torn bandaged fists into the hanging bag. I had decided that I had had enough of that for now I think I will go for a run, cardio always seemed to help me collect my thoughts.
     I notice that my water bottle had run dry, so I pick up my towel and bottle and pace over to the tap. I notice a boy standing there filling his bottle. He was much larger then me, and had an impressive amount of muscles. I was almost afraid to enter his presents, because for all I know he could be the typical District two asshole I'm use to. 
    I cautiously walk to the fountain to fill my bottle. Just before I make it I stumble over a stray staff left on the ground, and throw my upper body into his back. I immediately pull my hands over my mouth, incapable of letting out on apology. He was probably going to set me straight, and yell a few hateful words in my direction. So i let out a burst of air, and prepare for the worst.

[Anatra]

James Michael Howard

[presto] biography. [/presto] District Two Eighteen Alternate Picture Soundtrack Song I am a mountain I am the sea

His drink nears the brim, nice and high. It's quite chilling water, even to touch from the plastic container's outskirts. It's so people can cool themselves down, rather than warm themselves up. That's when he would probably have invested in some kind of coffee or hot chocolate. The latter is all that would rouse him to go across the road to the cafe. He reluctantly takes a sip of the water, relenting the need to start shivering. BAM, right into his back. He would have turned around if it hadn't happened so quickly. He's knocked forward just enough to tip the plastic cup over him a slight. The chilled water just manages to skim his t-shirt, darkening the center. He sighs, turning around now, his eyes looking at the girl who seems either a similar age or older, judging only from the first five seconds he waits before speaking, "What're you playing at?" His brows furrow at her. The cold now reveals itself on his stomach and he looks down at it, shaking his head. "I'd just warmed up." He says with irritation. Strangely, though, he isn't the kind of person to hit somebody just for something so small. In fact, he'd rather do the opposite. He would much rather make a friend here instead of making an enemy. He has no way of doing that though. He would have jokingly offered a hand, but she clearly isn't as clumsy as she seemed as she was quick to stay on her feet. She did look apologetic though. But not just that, tired. "You okay?" he asks her, inspecting briefly from his distance.

Extra Information:

[grim.]

              
                        Tobiah Cashmere
                                      D2

 
    I notice that he had a water bottle brimmed to the top with ice cold water. Its just my luck that I had forced him to spill on himself, I feel horrible. I remove my hand from my mouth and give concerned look. He turns toward me, and I try to maintain a well put together expression. This boy was beautiful, in a sense. His dark hair was clean and organized. His eyes dark and comforting. 
    He didn't seem angry at all, actually he almost seemed concerned. To think the guy that  just spilled cold water all over is concerned over something that has to do with me. Im sure something about my appearance was off, I never much thought of myself as attractive.
    "What're you playing at" he says. His voice was soft and caring, it flowed through my ears like music. This guy made me feel uncomfortable. I didn't normally worry about my appearance or the words that came out of my mouth. But something about him, made me feel as if I needed to carry myself differently, almost to impress him.
    "I'd just warmed up" his indulging voice echoes through my head. " I'm sorry, I slipped over that staff, someone must of left it" I avoid eye contact when I say this. It was hard for me to look directly at him without feeling suffocated. I reposition the strap of my tank-top and pull my falling bangs back behind my ear.
    "You okay"? he asked. I am in disbelieve that he was asking me if I was ok after I practically tackled him. Wait I come to the realization that my eyes were probably still a lot blood shot and, most likely surrounded with bags. I immediately become self conscious. "Ya I'm fine, sorry again for bumping into you" I say.
     I start to try to make an escape, but I fail. For some reason my feet were planted right here and I couldn't make myself leave. Oh great, now I am going to have to think of something else to say before he thinks theres something wrong with me. I wonder how old this boy is, he looked to be a similar age, but I was never good at guessing those types of things anyways.

[Anatra]

James Michael Howard

[presto] biography. [/presto] District Two Eighteen Alternate Picture Soundtrack Song I am a mountain I am the sea

"I'm sorry, I slipped over that staff, someone must of left it." Her reason doesn't shift the unease on his face. He is constantly reminded of the cold, nipping from the t-shirt. She looks a little confused, bewildered even. Perhaps James was just overthinking things. He rubs the back of his black hair, maybe the itch didn't exist in the first place, but he did it regardless. "Ya I'm fine, sorry again for bumping into you." she confirms to him. "It's fine." There's a moment of silence, only brief. He doesn't know what else to say, but she just remains there. He realizes though, he is in the way. She must have been on her way for water as well. He les out a light chuckle, privately. "Sorry, I'm in your way." "Rough night?" he asks her. "Nothing a quick spar couldn't handle, I'm sure." His thoughts are that it would sort both of their problems out. She's clearly struggling to wake up, so maybe it would wake them both up. The only thing he doesn't want to do is underestimate her because of it, but he will no doubt end up doing that. He seems to have developed the smallest of confidences in front of her, almost as though talking to her is something good. His thoughts end there, because the rest is far ahead of the moment.

Extra Information:

[grim.]

                            Tobiah Cashmere
                                            D2


     My gaze continues to avoid his, I was nervous, unsure if i wanted to speak. He eventually notices that he was standing in front of the water spout.

He moves with a chuckle and apologizes for his tardiness in realization. I of course am at a lose for words. Watching his large arms and carmel eyes scan my expressions so thoughtfully was making it hard to breath.

I don't know how much longer I was going to be able to stay in his presence. I was under so much pressure over nothing more then a gorgeous boy. Pull it together Toby you can control yourself.

"No worries" I say as I step forward to the spout. I turn on the spout and fill my bottle. No to much to be sure of no spilling, but enough to last me a while.

I remember that I look like complete shit, and he has noticed. He asked about the roughness of my night. Great my looks weren't any better then the way I felt internally. 

      I raise my bottle to my lips, and I feel a rush of cold refreshing water stream down my throat. It was more then needed. I adjust the straps on my tank top yet again, being sure that I looked at least half way decent. He asked  about a spar. Huh a spar wasn't a bad idea, possibly it would wake me up.

I wasn't at my best, but winning wasn't to important to me. In fact I don't  hink I have a chance against him. His looks were good enough to over power me. He could win before it even starts. " Sure a spar seems...fun" I say with unease. 

      I make my way to the arena carrying the strap of my bag on my shoulder and my bottle in my other hand.

When I reach the sweat and blood stained mat I lay down my bag, and set my bottle close. I was nervous, but I hope my expression didn't show that. I walk to one side of the arena. "Im ready when you are" I say with confidence.

OOC: sorry it took so long :/