(Untitled)

[a1enzo]

There's an aura of testosterone outside today with at least a thirty-yard radius. Its epicentre is whaling on the punching bag like he has a personal grudge against it-not just punching, either, but attacking with feet and elbows and occasionally his head.

It's not exactly anger, or not entirely anger. Less than he felt a week ago, certainly.

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[notascreensaver]

There's a certain Game sprite perched at a distance and watching Enzo at work. No sneaking, no sidling up, silent like a fish; just watching, because she has no idea how to approach her brother-in-law at the moment, or even if she should.

[a1enzo]

He spots her in the middle of a spinning back kick. It's a testament to his training that he completes the move properly, but he stops after that and stands looking at her awkwardly. Finally, he manages a weak smile.

[notascreensaver]

The smile gets a small wave in return, though AndrAIa remains perched where she is.

"Hey, Sprout."

[a1enzo]

"Hey, AndrAIa," he calls back, a little softer than he probably should at that distance. "How, how you doin'?"