October 11, ActionpugilistinpinkOctober 12 2011, 01:58:45 UTC
[What is a fellow to do after visiting the barracks and pounding viciously at heavy canvas punching bags halfway to unconsciousness? Well, he should probably shower - - and thankfully, Mac does, because his intentions are to visit Mr. Anthony on a whim; it sure was nice of the man to extend that little informal invitation to drop in. After calling to ensure his sudden appearance wouldn't be an inconvenience, he seeks out House 32, which turns out to be much closer to his community residence than he had realized.
Well, here he is, knocking on the door and waiting expectantly. Sure, conversations over the journal are pleasant and interesting, but he prefers face-to-face interaction - it is simply what he is more accustomed with.]
October 11, ActionpugilistinpinkOctober 13 2011, 21:35:05 UTC
[Mac steps forward and into the house a little awkwardly, looking about the unfamiliar surroundings while wearing a mild smile. He stops not far from the threshold, contemplating the questions. Probably should take off his shoes, too - he'll get to that in a second. ] Uh... actually, yeah. Y'got any pop or somethin'? Like, root beer?
October 11, ActionwinksandnodsOctober 15 2011, 02:19:31 UTC
[...Pop?]
I'm afraid I don't think so. Water? Tea? Coffee? [Their supplies are still very limited. They haven't quite gone exploring in the supermarket just yet.]
October 11, ActionpugilistinpinkOctober 15 2011, 03:13:15 UTC
[Mac considers his options, seeming indecisive due to nothing really appealing to him.]
Think I'll go with water... yeah, that's better f'me. Got a match comin' up so I gotta treat my body right, y'know?
[He realizes he tied on his running shoes a little too tightly than to simply be able to slough them off by stepping on the heels. Unthinkingly raising one leg, he takes hold of the shoe, trying to work it loose without necessarily having to undo the laces, and not much expecting it to take very long, either. But having worked out to the point that his limbs feel a little like wet noodles has undoubtedly affected his balance. Before he realizes it, he is suddenly reeling to the side, bumping his head into the wall.
Thankfully, he has good, solid head for this kind of thing. Or rather, normally he does, at least inside the ring. He has taken many-a punch and has, on many occasions, somehow willed himself to stagger on and fight when on the verge of collapse.
But lo and behold, in some freak accident at his expense, a switch flicks
( ... )
[And when Mac comes to? He'll find himself on the couch, a glass of water waiting on the coffee table near it. As well as a bottle of minor painkillers.
For his part, Anthony has taken a seat in one of the chairs in the room and is halfway through a cup (and pot) of tea, vaguely amused, as he can't see signs of permanent damage.
[Mac rouses sometime later with an irrepressible groan, a hand rising from his side in slow-motion and pressing against his throbbing skull even before his memory has caught up with him. A moment later, he cracks his eyes open to cautious, narrow slits and has a look around with a look of dim confusion, catching sight of Anthony in his midst. It helps to spot a familiar face. Blinking a while to bring his vision into focus, he sits up, wincing slightly.]
…Thanks. [There is a long moment of silence as he absorbs the explanation at a pace his still-drowsy brain can manage - and then, suddenly, he recalls that he was in the midst of tugging at his shoes before careening into the wall like an idiot. With this realization comes embarrassment with all the subtlety of a rock dropping on him. The only thing worse is if he had dented the wall with his head; he can only hope he didn't. Speaking of heads, he will be hanging his in response.]
[The guy doesn't miss that amused expression, but he convinces himself that Anthony isn't the kind of guy to go further and cruelly make fun of him. He doesn't tolerate mockery all too well.]
Besides feelin' pretty stupid... think I'm ok. [He rubs at his sore head thoughtfully, bringing his fingers to his face. No blood on them - good.] I take a lot a' bumps like this in the ring... probably harder. Know I gotta be careful with that kind a' thing... y'always hearin' 'bout boxers who've gone punch-drunk an' can't fight no more, they don' live like they used to, y'know? I never want that t'happen.
No. No, we certainly wouldn't want that to happen. [There wasn't much else to say to the thought, despite how his dark eyes surveyed Mac. He smiled as warmly as he could.] Best to be careful with that, especially with trying to start up matches.
[That smile is always reassuring, and it helps to lighten the mood.]
Hey, y'know... [A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth.] Luffy an' I - ain't sure if y'ever met 'im - but we been talkin' lately 'bout fightin', 'cause he's a boxer too. So soon, I'm havin' a title bout. I'm real excited about it.
Well, here he is, knocking on the door and waiting expectantly. Sure, conversations over the journal are pleasant and interesting, but he prefers face-to-face interaction - it is simply what he is more accustomed with.]
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Good afternoon. Come in, come in.
Can I get you anything to eat? Drink?
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I'm afraid I don't think so. Water? Tea? Coffee? [Their supplies are still very limited. They haven't quite gone exploring in the supermarket just yet.]
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Think I'll go with water... yeah, that's better f'me. Got a match comin' up so I gotta treat my body right, y'know?
[He realizes he tied on his running shoes a little too tightly than to simply be able to slough them off by stepping on the heels. Unthinkingly raising one leg, he takes hold of the shoe, trying to work it loose without necessarily having to undo the laces, and not much expecting it to take very long, either. But having worked out to the point that his limbs feel a little like wet noodles has undoubtedly affected his balance. Before he realizes it, he is suddenly reeling to the side, bumping his head into the wall.
Thankfully, he has good, solid head for this kind of thing. Or rather, normally he does, at least inside the ring. He has taken many-a punch and has, on many occasions, somehow willed himself to stagger on and fight when on the verge of collapse.
But lo and behold, in some freak accident at his expense, a switch flicks ( ... )
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For his part, Anthony has taken a seat in one of the chairs in the room and is halfway through a cup (and pot) of tea, vaguely amused, as he can't see signs of permanent damage.
...Granted, Anthony Blunt is not a doctor.]
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Ugh. Where- - What happened?
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[He's trying very hard not to outright laugh.]
Thought it'd do you good to lie down.
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Aw geez.
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[At least he sounds genuinely concerned... even if he still looks amused.]
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Besides feelin' pretty stupid... think I'm ok. [He rubs at his sore head thoughtfully, bringing his fingers to his face. No blood on them - good.] I take a lot a' bumps like this in the ring... probably harder. Know I gotta be careful with that kind a' thing... y'always hearin' 'bout boxers who've gone punch-drunk an' can't fight no more, they don' live like they used to, y'know? I never want that t'happen.
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Hey, y'know... [A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth.] Luffy an' I - ain't sure if y'ever met 'im - but we been talkin' lately 'bout fightin', 'cause he's a boxer too. So soon, I'm havin' a title bout. I'm real excited about it.
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I expect you'll let me know the formal when and where. Wouldn't dream of missing it.
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