Atton is out back, shoes and shirt discarded at the bottom of a nearby tree, punching the remains of a man made of straw and wood and punching bags. It wasn't a particularly realistic man to start with, and by now it's so mangled that it doesn't really look that much like a human
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The 'fight' seems interesting enough. But what's more interesting is the way the sun is gleaming off of the paint and sweat on his back.
It's kind of an astral sight. Really.
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"Hey, Gavin." Headtilt. "How long've you been watching?"
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He hadn't meant to get caught. Gavin blushes, shrugging and looking generally uncomfortable.
"Um."
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"Sorry. Didn't mean to make you wait - Y'could've just called me if you wanted to talk."
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That wasn't his reason for standing there at all.
"It's okay. Really."
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Aside from the obvious, that is.
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"Hence the paint?"
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"What else does it need?"
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"Belt?"
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