One stance. Two stance. Three stance. Four stance.
Fall.
He was in the gym, long warmed up and stretched and now busy practicing everything Ino had taught him almost like the possessed.
Because he was angryHe was angry with himself for not being able to stop his madness, angry that he would have to upset Karal to tell him what he'd seen,
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He hadn't expected to find anyone else there.
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"...Liir?"
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He finished the drill repeat and the broom was returned smoothly to its holster. He didn't speak for a moment, though. Instead, he closed his eyes and breathed in and settled himself.
Rage helped nothing, especially undisciplined rage. He would not be her. He would not be her.
"Michael," he said.
And he knew he had to tell him.
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It was like watching a duck shake the water off.
The rage wasn't so much vented as dismissed, taken off like an old coat in good company. It's an interesting sight, really, as the angles of his face slash and realign themselves to a more normal expression and the frenetic energy that seems to be filling him is grounded out until it's almost gone. Just his eyes, green and unsettled, remain as they were.
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