2020-11-10 - Rocky road for Ravn

Seth has made his way over to Kelley's bright and early to set up for the upcoming training session with Ravn. Dressed in his typical workout attire of a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt that is more holes than shirt. Laid out before him in the center of the ring are various sets of pads, enough to make what looks to be a full suite that would cover someone from head to toe in protective gear. The enforcer glances at his watch as he places the last of the red foam rubber pads onto the floor of the mat before the large redhead vaults himself over the top rope and makes his way to a boom box over on the corner of the apron. Hitting play, a somewhat familiar rhythm starts to play for a moment before the lyrics start.

o/~ Risin' up, back on the street... o/~

It's not so much that Ravn Abildgaard is on time. He's the kind of man who would be -- and probably five minutes early most times too, because that's what passes for polite in his home country. It's not that he's actually acquired a set of sweat pants and t-shirt by now, as well as running shoes -- or that they are all black. No one would expect anything else.

No, it's the way he whistles loudly along to Eye of the Tiger as he steps into the gym. Coming from someone who's usually quite skilled at just plain staying out of sight, remaining on the fringings, not getting noticed, in fact rather preferring to be functionally invisible a lot of the time, this is not typical. Neither is the swagger.

"Heya, Bruiser! What's up?"

That's not normal, either.

Alexander is not on time, which is not usual for him, when he's invited somewhere. He's usually the guy who's fifteen minutes early, lurking outside to make sure it's not an ambush before wandering in. This time he's wandering in a good few minutes late, enveloped in a massive, fluffy green sweater, which he's petting with one hand as he sidles into the gym. "Oh. You're both here." His eyes are a little red, and sleepy. "Music. Good. Music is good." He offers both a smile. Yes. Even Seth gets a smile.

"Hey, guys..." Seth says with a happy grin on his face, quickly moving over to give both Ravn and Alexander a quick (and in Ravn's case a very gentle) bro-hug. Hugging isn't exactly in the brutes nature, but maybe he is just in a really good mood today. The redhead looks to Ravn and laughs, "Bruiser? I can't say anyone has ever called me that before. Killer, sure. Heartbreaker a number of times, I've probably even gotten a babe, or a tiger in there somewhere, but bruiser is a new one for me. So, you ready to do this, Ravn? I promise it won't hurt...ok, I can't guarantee that. But I have do have pads for you up there, so that should at least help."

Seth turns to Alexander, "What about you? Am I suiting you up as well? You're here, you might as well get some benefit out of it as well. You never know when your snooping around in other people's business might strike a nerve enough to get a punch, so you might as well learn how to take one. Or are you just here to watch and provide support?"

0/~ For the kill with the skill to survive 0/~

"Alexander!" Ravn exclaims with delight before looking back at Seth and -- perhaps because he did indeed see that hug coming -- refraining from wincing. "Hell no, I'm not ready. Going to have my arse handed to me on a plate, aren't I? Way I see this, my best bet is to knock people down before they get one in on me. Because if they do, I'm probably down for the count. So I need to learn to strike first, yes?"

He hops up into the ring. The man's no athlete but he's in all right shape for an asthmatic academic. Or maybe he thinks he is and will regret it profoundly in the morning -- either way, that's practically a swagger as he saunters to the far corner and bounces against the ropes a few times. And hums along with the song. Loudly.

Wait, there's hugging? Alexander did not sign up for hugging, especially hugging from Seth, but instead of his usual reaction of scream and punch, he just goes sort of stiff and blinks bemusedly at Seth, before reaching out and ruffling the man's head. Sort of a ruffle, sort of a ginger pat, like one might give a dog they're not entirely certain won't bite them. "Hello. I'm Alexander Clayton. We don't like each other," he reminds Seth, cheerfully, just in case the man might have forgotten or mistaken him for someone he does, actually, want to hug. The offer makes him blink, and look at the protective gear. "I've never worn those before. But sure. I guess. Is this more masculine bonding through violence? I don't know if I want to bond with you."

He doesn't hop into the ring, but wanders after Ravn at an easy sort of pace. "Aggressive is one way to play it, yes. Probably not a good way, unless you know how to judge your opponent. But you might convince people you're crazy. Without tattooing your fingers. Which always seemed like overkill to me." He's rambling, but seems happy. He's in a happy place right now.

Rolling his eyes in an over-exaggerated manner, Seth let's out a little 'pshaw' at Alexander and shrugs a shoulder as he chuckles about the head rub, "Yeah, yeah. Just because we don't like each other doesn't mean we can't be friendly, man. Fuck, wasn't it Sun Tzu that said 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?' Well....there ya go." Like that is supposed to explain it all perfectly. "GO. Get in some pads. It will be good for all of us to get some exercise in."

Seth makes his way over to the boom box, whistling along with the tune. "Man, don't you just love this song. It's perfect 'pump you up' anthem music." explains Seth as he reaches out to hit repeat on the little boombox, nodding to himself that the constant blaring of 'Eye of the Tiger' will be nothing less than epic, and not annoying in the least.

Turning back around, Seth claps his hands together and runs towards the ring, diving at the last minute to slide under the bottom rope like some pro wrestler entering the ring to his high energy theme music. As he rolls to his feet, he looks to the Dane and grins. "You ready for this? This is going to be fun!"

"I can do crazy. I've done crazy. Having six foot three of angry Danish guy screaming at you in a language you don't understand is apparently somewhat intimidating." Ravn beams. He's clearly in a remarkably good mood for some reason -- and feeling energetic too, at least he's not standing still for a moment. Testing the ropes, hopping from one foot to the other, stretching, bouncing a bit on both feet, testing the rope again, stretching, jogging in place...

At some point he remembers about pads. And gets started putting them on, at which point it becomes blatantly obvious that actually, no, padding up is not part of the initial preparations for acquiring a Ph.D. in the Humanities. And the worst part? He clearly finds the whole experience highly entertaining, grinning all awhile.

"Friendly means in a manner like unto friends. I think 'not liking each other' does actually inhibit acting friendly," Alexander points out, but then pauses, and says, "Can't argue with the rest of it. Except I don't think Sun Tzu said that. I didn't read 'The Art of War', though, so I don't know. Wars aren't actually crimes. Unfortunately." He squints at Ravn and his claim of being intimidating as he starts to put on his own pads. In contrast to the men, he's more languid than energetic. "But you're all noodly. Tall. But noodly."

He doesn't offer to help with the pads. Maybe because he's a jerk. Maybe just because he has to blink at his own and work his way through them deliberately to get them on, before climbing in the ring. He looks around. "I set the last one of these on fire. It was an accident. Sort of."

"Well, don't set this one on fire," Seth says as he turns to look at Alexander. "I'm pretty sure Joey would kill you and feed you to that horse he calls a dog if you burned down his gym. Does either of you need help putting those on? I mean, it's shouldn't be too hard to figure out, but just holler if you need some assistance."

As the pair of them start to put on the pads, Seth starts his own stretching routine in the middle of the ring, lumbering up to make sure he doesn't pull something during this little exercise. "So, who wants to start? Ravn? I suppose you should since this was going to be all about you anyway. It is certainly time for you to rise up and face the challenge of your rival! Now, do you want that to be me, or Alexander?" Seth grins, looking between the two men. "I'd suggest Alexander."

Ravn manages eventually -- in part because he is able to watch Alexander's example. He throws a dubious look from one man to the other at Seth's inquiry. "Sure. What am I doing to Alexander? What's the situation here? Am I being mugged, or sexually harassed by a giant pregnant frog, or chased through the woods by Cthulhu on rollerskates?" He sloooouches against the ropes while asking, looking not very much like a noodly academic and a lot more like someone who's about to realise what pain means.

"Yeah," Alexander agrees, "I'm pretty sure I only get one pass on that. And I've got the pads. They feel...interesting. Firm, but flexible. Yielding, but with substance." He stretches in place fairly naturally; this, at least, he seems to have done before. There's a flicker of surprise at being volunteered to be Ravn's partner, but he nods amenably enough. "If you want Cthulhu, I'll have to make an illusion. But maybe we should start with a simple attack. Do you know how to block a punch?" He glances at Seth more than Ravn, like he expects the enforcer to be able to answer that question more easily than the Dane.

"Well, first things first I suppose. We should see what the hell it is we are working with here. Keep it simple. A quick two-minute sparing session and let's see what you both have brought to the table." Seth leans back against the ropes and nods at Alexander with respect for stepping up. "Thanks, Alexander. I don't want to incapacitate Ravn too early, you know?"

"I have always believed that you should always train as if it is the real thing. So, a quick two minutes and we will see where we need to go from there." explains the enforcer, sitting his ass on the middle rope and getting into a position to scrutinize the sparring match. "I'm not going to say go...real fights don't start with a go. Someone just throws the first punch."

"Too early," Ravn mouths with a look of disbelief -- which dissipates into giggles. Whatever it is that's in the air today all over Green Har---Gray Harbour, it's not doing his focus a lot of favours. He manages to straighten up though and look down at Alexander from his after all quite impressive height. "Please don't kill me? Honestly, I've got no idea what I'm doing here. If you were a real angry person I'd either be trying to talk you down or get the hell out of range just about now."

"Incapacitation is probably not the ideal outcome," Alexander points out. "But it's gonna hurt." That's to Ravn. He stands there, watching the man with something less friendly in his reddened eyes. "And some people don't talk down. Out of range is good, but it helps if you can do a decent single strike to hurt your target, either make them think twice about chasing you down, or put them down long enough to get that distance between you." Speaking of distance, his is closing. He doesn't have 'good form' - whatever fighting he knows, it looks entirely self-taught, and he just bunches himself down, making himself less of a target, and his fists flash out without warning, hammering at Ravn's midsection.

If he's not hitting with all of his strength, he's not holding a lot back, and he's apparently well-built for a forty year old man, under all that oversized clothing.

Wincing as Seth watches Alexander lands a few solid hits onto Ravn's breadbasket, Seth reaches over the side of the apron and grabs a bucket, tossing it towards the center of the ring at Ravn, "When you are going to puke, puke into that." Seth grins, giving Alexander a nod of appreciation, "That was solid. Nice hit, man. Personally I would go for the knees or throat, can't chase you if they can't run or breath. Gut punch can have the same effect, but it might not be as reliable. It all depends on your opponent's abs."

Pushing off the rope, Seth walks over towards Ravn and takes up a defensive stance. "Always keep your hands in front of your face, arms in front of your body. Stand sideways to present less of a target. Like this."

Ravn sort of folds up and just watches Seth with a rather pained grimace. Alexander did not touch his skin, and for this he is grateful. Alexander did, however, land one right in the man's solar plexus and for a moment there, breathing felt like it was entirely opt-in. "Duly noted," he manages to squeeze out between attempts to breathe.

A hand still gloved in black kidskin slips into a jeans pocket for a second; something glints in it a moment -- a lucky charm, maybe? Or something that the Dane is afraid might get damaged during a fight?

No. A coin, as it happens -- a common US dollar. Which goes flying, inexplicably, right at the Enforcer's eye though Ravn's hands stay down and he most certainly didn't throw it.

What he did do, while hopefully using that flying coin as a distraction, was move himself five paces to the side, outside of striking range.

"If I hit him in the throat or the joints and he doesn't know how to take a punch, I could break something. I don't want to break something. I'm not that good a healer, and Ravn seems nice." Alexander backs off as Seth steps in to instruct, his eyes flicking back and forth from one to the other. His own stance isn't great, but maybe he's not expecting any sort of return volley. He tuts as the flying coin spins through the air. "Don't rely on your abilities. They light you up for worse things than a mugger. If you have to use them, use them. But you need to know how to do without. I could shut you down, if I wanted to," he points out.

As the coin 'inexplicably' sends itself towards Seth's eye, the enforcer's hand just instinctively reaches up and snatches it out of the air, and without any wasted motion flicks the coin back at Ravn while he quickly closes the distance and drops low while extending a leg, sweeping the Dane's legs out from under him as the Dane is trying to move away.

"Nice try." the enforcer mutters, moving over to offer a hand to help the Dane back to his feet. "Solid effort, but as Alexander said do not rely on those. You are here to learn how to try and defend yourself without them."

Thud. Elegant it is not.

As far as face plants go, one might even apply terms such as 'dead weight' or 'sack of bricks' or 'please just put him out of his misery now'.

"I get that," Ravn murmurs at Alexander, voice still a little strained as he picks himself up from the floor one limb at a time -- and silently thanks the powers that be that the other man went for his knees, covered in fabric as they are. "I just wanted to prove that I'm not completely, utterly inept. I know that here, where everyone and their sister does magic, my little tricks are pretty useless. But outside? I was thirteen the first time I put a fork in the crotch of a handsy trucker that way. I've gotten out of more fights that way than I have hands. People elsewhere do not expect flying things. I'll do it the hard way like you're telling me, just, I'm not completely fucking incompetent. My objective has never been winning -- just getting away."

He must be grumpy. Ravn doesn't usually swear a lot.

Alexander watches Ravn go down, wincing in sympathy. He shakes his head. "It's not about incompetence. You're not. And anywhere else, you handle yourself fine. Clearly." A smile flickers, then dies. "But...when I was eight, my toys tried to cut me open and fill me with stuffing. Gray Harbor is something else. It's not a competition. It's not about winning. It's just about staying alive. And when you get Lost...sometimes the only way out and away is to put the monsters down, or at least, at least make them work for it. And they want you to use your abilities. They feed on it." He frowns. "You don't have to do this. But if you do, you should realize that no one's trying to make you feel stupid, or weak. Just...want you to stay alive."

His eyes flick to Seth, then back to Ravn. "Want to watch Monaghan beat me down for a bit? We can demonstrate some defensive moves. Show might be better than practice, at first."

Poor Ravn, all he wants to do is getaway in a fight, and in this situation.

Tough.

Seth eyes the Dane as he places his hands on his hips. "I get that, and running is not a bad strategy. Hell, the coin thing isn't really a bad strategy either, to be honest. It just isn't something that you should fall on unless absolutely necessary. Keep your guard up, find a weakness and exploit it quick and hard. Take out something that makes it difficult for them to follow and run...but that all starts with learning how to read someone. You have to anticipate what it is they are going to do to the best of your ability, but at the same time be unpredictable to them so you catch them off guard." The enforcer shrugs, "It's all a balance and it is all going to take time. I've been doing this for years, you can't expect to pick it up in an hour, a day or a week, but if you keep at it you will pick it up."

Seth casts a glance over Alexander's way, a slow grin forming on his face. "It would be interesting at least, that is for sure."

"Yeah, I know. I asked for help. Me being able to get my own backside out of the dreams of this place was the whole point -- can't always rely on somebody else having time to pull my nuts out of the fire. Just, Christ in a bucket, I feel like the first day in kindergarten right now," Ravn grouses. "Until now, that was the weakness. In the outside world, no one expects the cutlery to start flying around. Right. Show me what you're talking about." He leans against the ropes but for all his sounding very serious, he's still shifting his weight from one leg to another a lot, acting high strung. Must be something in the air today.

Alexander bobs his head at Seth's words. "He's right. You're a smart man. But muscles are stupid. And it sucks to realize that your ace in the hole is something that other people now expect, or that they're better at it than you are. Which is why you need more tools, so you've always got something to throw at people when you need to." Even though it was his suggestion, Alexander's face goes blank at Seth's slow grin, and he eyes the man consideringly before nodding. "Fine. We can do that."

He takes up a defensive stance; it's no style, and has no style to it - sparring isn't really Alexander's thing and it shows. But he's loose and ready, nonetheless, and while there's some bleariness in his reddened eyes, the adrenaline is cutting through it nicely. "Come on, then, Monaghan."

No sooner than the words leave Alexander's lips Seth makes his move. In two quick steps, the enforcer closes the distance and launches a push towards the Investigator's solar plexus. There are no words that fall from the enforcer's mouth, just the blaring sound of 'Eye of the Tiger' that has been a constant underlying tone throughout this lesson.

"It does suck," Ravn admits. "But this isn't about my pride. As far as the shine is concerned, I'm one of the weakest people in Gray Harbor -- and if I was stronger, I'd still only be calling down a lot of attention I don't want. So, the old fashioned way it is."

He watches, intently. Lanky academic may be a pushover, and a very twitchy one at that, but he is also very, very good at paying attention and taking mental notes.

For all his sloppy form, Alexander moves like someone who is used to people - or whatever - trying to kill him. He steps to one side, elbows coming in as he protects his vulnerable middle with his arms and pivots. His return hit is fast, aimed for the throat without hesitation. Either he thinks Seth can take a hit so that nothing important gets broken, or he doesn't care that much.

For all the talk that Seth talks about defense and fighting, today something must be in the air because the enforcer's reaction times are slow. Alexander goes in with a swift chop to the throat of the redhead, and while Seth moves to block the strike he is just too slow on the draw. Alexander's hand makes solid contact and leaves Seth coughing and gagging as he tries to breathe through his irritated windpipe.

Seth backs off a step, hand moving to his windpipe as he looks to Alexander with a newfound respect...and anger. Anger that sees the enforcer launch another attack at the investigator. The redhead moves forward, feigning an attack with what looks to be a right cross, but then quickly spins and instead launches a foot towards Alexander's head with a spinning roundhouse kick towards the other man's temple. It's a good thing he is wearing pads.

Ravn conversely fights off an instinctive urge to go see what the weather is like in Philadelphia today. Watching grown men fight like they actually want to murder each other is -- possibly also not part of acquiring a Ph.D. in the Humanities. In fact, he's pretty certain that while there were a fair number of 'do you want fries with that' jokes around getting that diploma, there was no 'and by the way, you need a first aid course'.

He watches intently, though, because there is a lesson to be learned here. One that isn't just about where to punch a man -- but also about control. About resisting the temptation to go for an easy opening. About remembering that human bodies are very squishy, and that it is a very good thing that pads are worn, indeed.

Alexander may have caught Seth off guard with that first strike, which does make a look of...let's call it satisfaction slither across his features. He doesn't follow up immediately, giving the man time to recover, but he's ready for the attack...just not ready enough. He braces for the right cross, but the move to the spinning kick catches him entirely by surprise. There's a solid thunk of foot striking temple pad, and Alexander spins around himself, staggering back into the ropes and cursing under his breath. He puts a hand up to his head to make sure the skull didn't crack.

When he turns around, his eyes are narrowed. He comes in again with a set of fast, solid punches - but he's still staggery from the kick to the head, and he's telegraphing too much. They're blockable, not enough to get through a trained defense.

As the telegraphed punches come in, Seth bats each one away in succession. One. Two. Three. Four. On the fifth, the enforcer catches the other man's hand in his, gives his head a little bit of a shake, and then lunges forward to smash his forehead into the padding of the helmet that Alexander is wearing, a targeted strike that could have easily gone for the bridge of the investigator's nose if he had wanted. He is being kind.

The Dane spots the look on Seth's face and realises that yes -- the Irishman is in fact being kind. The realisation is not very reassuring because that could have been him there, and at least Alexander knows what he's doing. It's difficult to not think of other scrapes that he's been in -- scrapes in which at least he had the advantage of being able to do things that other people can't.

You're not fucking special, Ravn Abildgaard. Not even close. Deal with it.

He watches and resists the instinctive urge to try to break them up; they're grown men and -- well, he's not blind to the tension between them, either. Maybe it's healthy for them both, getting a chance to slug each other around and get it out of their systems.

Crack. It's a solid connect, hard heads bouncing off of one another hard enough that Alexander, at least, sees stars and staggers backward, shaking his head. "Fuck." He's aware that it could have been worse. That flashes in his eyes, along with an anger that doesn't seem entirely pointed at Seth, for all that it burns hot. He lunges forward, trying to get inside the redhead's guard and land a solid punch into his solar plexus - but not the throat again, not the face. A kindness returned to the enforcer, for all that the punch doesn't hold back in force.

"OAF!" is the sound that escapes Seth's lips as the air is forcefully expelled from his lungs buy the solid hit that Alexander makes to his solar plexus. Aside from the sound of flesh hitting flesh, that is the only thing that has been said the entire time Alexander and Seth have been going at it.

Seth takes a step back, hands snapping up to block any further strikes against him as he takes a moment to regain his breath. A moment he rushes by launching forward to early, not giving himself enough time to recover from that blow, so his own retaliatory to strike to Alexander's gut is easily telegraphed. A sloppy mistake by someone who gets caught up in the moment and doesn't think. Emotions taking over instead of thought. One of the very things that Seth is trying to warn Ravn about is the very thing he does....which only goes to show that even the skilled are only human when it comes to things, and make rookie mistakes as well. That...and after a couple of minutes even well-conditioned fighters get tired. There is a reason boxing rounds only last so long.

Ravn leans against the ropes, still finding himself quite unable to stand still. For some reason he feels like three squirrels on a sugar high today, and he has no idea why. It's certainly not how he usually feels. He watches the two men wear each other down -- and is not at all unobservant of Seth's mistake there though he decides to not comment on it; after all, the purpose here is to show Ravn himself a few things. Don't annoy the teacher if you want good grades. A sentiment he's urged a few times himself, and which holds a steadfast truth.

Instead, he cants his head when they finally do come to a standstill. "See, I have one big problem with what you two were doing there. I have asthma. I cannot keep spending my air on moving like that for very long. It seems to me that the sane choice on my end actually is to keep my focus on getting away. Or at least evading, dodging, and distracting until somebody else has a chance to bail me out. I will never make a good fighter. But it's possible that with some practise, I can become someone who knows when to duck. Which in turn would make me less of a liability."

It's Alexander's turn to bat away the enforcer's punch, but his breath is coming in harsh, quick bursts, and sweat sheens on his skin. Dude's forty, and doesn't get into fistfights...or sparring sessions...all that often. So instead of trying to follow up with another attack, he takes a step or two back, raises his hands: all done here. He takes a few gulps of air, nods to Seth. "Good...session? Fight? I don't know what you're supposed to say. But it was good. You're good."

He drops his hands and turns to Ravn. "This was slower than a real fight. Real fights end in seconds. Often in the first or second hit. Seth could have broken my nose, and nobody fights well with a broken nose. Hit it right, you can kill a guy like that, too. Same with the throat. Always strike like you're gonna kill someone, because even if you don't, you're going to hurt them, for sure. If you try to hit with the idea that you're just gonna distract them, then if that fails, you've done nothing but waste your time and given them an opening." He sighs. "But ducking is good. You can learn ducking."

Coughing a bit, Seth lowers his guard and takes a second or two to catch his breath, letting Alexander talk for the moment until he musters up enough breath to be able to do the same. "Yeah, you to Alexander. I may have underestimated you. I won't make that mistake again." the enforcer says as he stands up straight and gives the investigator a nod of respect. Notes were taken.

Turning to Ravn, Seth mirrors what Alexander said. "Yeah, that went on way longer than a real fight would go. If we were really trying, and there weren't pads, things would have been over a lot quicker." He isn't going to give Alexander the satisfaction of saying that first blow could have ended things right away...but it could have. "Stamina is one thing, Boxer's need to have it because they are fighting for a set time, or until one of them pummels the other into unconsciousness. Same with MMA fighters. All you need to know if how to strike once, make it count, and then get the fuck out of dodge. It's like I have told you before. Knee, throat or groin. those are the areas you need to focus on."

"That's what I was suggesting at first. That I try to strike first. Maybe learning both is the best option here?" Ravn glances from one to the other. "Learn how to dodge. And if I get the chance, disable."

"Mm." Alexander stares at Seth for a moment, like he's trying to decide whether he regrets correcting that mistake or not. Eventually he ducks his head, shrugs awkwardly. "You're as good as I thought you would be," he says, with a hint of a smile.

He rubs at his head, which aches like...someone kicked him in the skull and then slammed their head into his. "Eyes." He adds to Seth's list. "If you're going for disabling and running, eyes are pretty good. Throw something at someone's eyes, everybody flinches. And the people who can chase you blind are," he hesitates, "well, you're probably fucked either way." Then his lips twitch as he looks at Ravn. "So. Did you want us to try and hit you while you dodge?"

He's probably joking. Probably.

Seth walks over to ropes and slides through them, hopping down off the apron to retrieve a trio of bottled water from a cooler next to the boombox. He casually tosses two of them into the ring before opening the third and taking a large swallow of water. "Maybe we start him on the bag first. Something that isn't likely to hurt him all that much when it connects. It isn't the same as getting into a real fight, and yeah, I know I said that I prefer to treat things as 'real', but in your case, I think maybe starting off a bit slower might not be a horrible idea. Get you dodging an inanimate ball on a rubber band first. Or we can just throw slow punches at you, your choice."

He nods to Alexander, "Yeah, eyes are another good option. Rake the eyes with your fingernails, or just shove a finger in them. Either works, one is much more permanently damaging than the other."

"Why, yes, why don't I take on you both at once?" Ravn manages to look flippant enough that he might actually mean it -- for at least ten seconds. Then he cracks a lopsided smile. "And for my next trick I'm going to go pinch Vic's backside while she's working and see how many different places pieces of me will be turning up for a month. I think maybe show me some of those moves a bit slowly so I can actually see how they work, what I should be doing? Where I'm at right now it goes something like flail, shove, say something really nasty about somebody's mum. I'm sure there is -- more finesse involved. I'm also really remarkably inexperienced with staying in a fight long enough to actually try to land a punch, just in case either of you were actually still in doubt."

He cants his head slightly. "Some people are destined to be the movie's twitchy nerd. That's me. I'm fighting the temptation to get some kind of weapon, though, because as Seth and I have apparently both discovered recently -- you end up in trouble here, there's no guarantee you even have underwear. Much as I loathe the idea of spending hours punching an inanimate object, it might be the best idea to start out from one step below ground floor, so to speak."

The Dane glances at his gloved fingers at that last comment. "Finger I can do. Nails not so much. What about throwing sand in someone's eyes? I've done that before."

Alexander thinks about it, then pretends to heave a sigh. "I suppose that's reasonable." He stops one of the rolling bottles with his foot, bends to pick it up. "Thanks," he tells Seth, then takes a drink. "No weapon," he tells Ravn, firmly. "Not unless there's one you know how to use a lot better than your fists. Bringing a weapon you don't know into a fight just ends up handing a gift to your opponent. And no fucking guns. Guns make people stupid, and not even you can control a bullet once it's in the air. It can hit anything. Anyone. Just...learn to dodge. Sand is fine." He climbs out of the ring, jumps to the floor. "Just always be thinking about what you have to work with. Even water in someone's eyes hurts. Beer, salt, a brick. Whatever's around."

"I'll wager no less than six," Seth says as he looks to Ravn with a grin. "Five appendages and the head. Well, unless she shoves one of those appendages down your throat first, then it would only be five. Either that, or she takes that particular one and puts it in her collection. I have a feeling she has a collection of them somewhere as trophies."

Seth nods over to Alexander, in both acknowledgment of his thanks and about what he said. "Unless you are absofuckinglutely desperate, don't use things you don't know how to use. If it is your only and last resort, then go down fighting anyway you can."

The enforcer hops back up into the ring, moving to stand next to Ravn. "Ok, so let's start with stance. Let me see what you call a fighting stance."

"And learning to use a gun properly still wouldn't solve the problem that one might not have the gun in one of the dreams." Ravn nods and scoops up the last water bottle. "That's why I am deciding against. Improvising seems... safer? There'll probably be something one can pick up in most scenarios."

He puts the water bottle down and straightens up. "I have no idea what a fighting stance even is." What he does assume is a stance of simply watching the other man, inconspicuously standing there -- though a trained eye easily will spot the tell-tale signs of the man being alert and ready to move. A fighter he is not. Someone with the acute spatial awareness of a mover -- that he actually is.

And not above a distraction, either. "Besides, out of you and me, I rather think it's you Vic has her eye on."

"You're not wrong," Alexander says to Ravn, nodding with approval at the 'no guns' decision. "And don't sleep naked. Learned that one early." His lips twitch at the aside about Vic, but he's definitely not jumping any further into that end of the conversation.

He doesn't have a lot of wisdom to offer regarding the stance; his own is weird and sloppy, not trained. So instead of risking distracting Seth, he just finds somewhere to sit and watch, pulling the pads off his head so that he can rub at his hair. His ears are still ringing a bit from the spar.

"Yeah, I learned that one recently myself, Alexander. Though from what I have been told even if you sleep in something, if They want you naked, you're naked." Seth says with a shrug. "I'm just glad Kelley was doing a midnight BBQ, or whatever he was doing. That apron he had saved my dignity, not that I am body conscious at all." The enforcer shrugs and moves over to Ravn, taking up a classic defensive posture. One foot back with the weight on it, hands up to protect the face while the arms protect the body. "Something like this. See what feels 'natural' and we will shift it to make it practical."

As Ravn mentions something about Vic having her eye on him, Seth arches a brow. "I doubt it. At least not like that. The only eye she has for me right now is revenge for that paint bath."

"Some would call that flirting, Monaghan." As distractions go, it's not the best -- but it's what Ravn's got and he's going to milk it for any misdirected attention he might possibly squeeze out of it. He attempts to copy the Irishman's posture and shifts his weight from one foot to the other a few times. "I feel threatened as hell just having you stare at me like that," he admits. "And tempted to do -- something. I'm not strong or fast, but I am pretty good with misdirection. If that's useful at all. I did do carnival tricks for a living for a year or three."

Alexander winces. "Naked when Lost is bad. Glad you didn't lose anything you're probably gonna want to use at some point." He starts working some of the ache out of his arms while he watches them, and snorts at Ravn. "Don't distract. Learn." He takes a swig from the bottle. "And I think Miss Grey can handle her own love life. If she's interested, she doesn't strike me as the shy type."

"So am I. I'm rather fond of keeping all my parts." Seth chuckles, shrugging a shoulder. "As far as Vic is concerned, I think Alexander is right. If she has any interest in that department, I am sure she wouldn't be shy about it." The fact that Seth knows the 'real' Vic, well, that might be a point in his favor. At least he understands that side of her she keeps hidden...and nothing brings people together more than murder, right?

Seth makes a couple adjustments to Ravn's form, "Keep your weight on the back foot, only shift it forward if you are going to use it as a pivot point for a kick. That way if someone tries to take out the leg, it won't matter since your weight isn't on it."

"Fine," Ravn murmurs, caught out in a not very subtle attempt to fluster the Irishman in front of him. His distraction game isn't up to his usual standards today; it might be the fact that two rather capable men are trying to teach him things he really wishes he had no need to learn, or it may be that strange green feeling of wanting to be all over the place like six squirrels in a trenchcoat.

He allows himself to be corrected, keeping his attention firmly on the other man's hands -- the whole idea of having someone else that far into his personal space is clearly not something the Dane is accustomed to. "I'm not going to be able to distract you with talk is what you're saying. Right, then. What do I actually do besides pray really hard that you won't 'take out' my leg?"

"Although I'm gonna have to get kicked in the head again to erase the mental image of you in nothing but Joseph Kelly's apron," Alexander mutters, not quite under his breath. He shakes his head. "Did it say 'kiss the cook'? In my head it says 'kiss the cook', but I have trouble seeing Kelly bothering with that sort of thing. On the other hand, I've seen him dressed as Monroe, and that...he doesn't have a lot of insecurity, I guess is what I'm saying." He's not actually trying to distract anyone - it's just that now that he's not focused on hitting things, his brain is rambling on and taking his mouth right along with it. He's petting the water bottle, absently, like he's never touched one before.

"Oh, is that what you were trying to do, Darth?" asks Seth, a brow rising in curiosity. "I didn't realize you were just trying to distract me, I thought it was just conversation." the enforcer says with a chuckle. "If the thought of Vic is supposed to distract me, I'm sorry to disappoint. I have to deal with distractions from hot women nightly at the Firefly. I'm used to it."

"As far as not taking out your leg, most people won't go for that. Your normal kind of threat is going to come on straight, with a punch. Kicks are something you see more in trained fighters. Most people don't know how to kick properly, let alone sweep a leg. But it is something I will teach you. Kick a knee sideways, and you are going to drop whoever it is, and it doesn't take all that much to do, which is why you keep the weight on the back leg. Harder to get to."

Seth looks over at Alexander with a chuckle. "You know, I have no idea. I didn't pay that close of attention to see if anything was written on it, and by the time the frog was done laying eggs in it, whatever would have been written on it would have been covered with slime and eggs that I wouldn't have been able to read it anyway. It could be worse though, Alexander. You could picture me in nothing but an apron that says 'Eat my Meat.'"

"...I'd really rather not." Ravn makes a face; now he's the one being distracted. He shakes his head and reaches up to run a gloved hand through the unruly copper mess he calls hair. "What the hell is wrong with me today? I feel like my thoughts are all over the place -- even more than usual. Also, Seth? Your job sounds terrifying and I am never applying for work there."

He tentatively lifts the one foot in front of himself -- the one that is not supporting his weight -- and sort of slow-motion attempts to do what Seth said, aiming a kick towards the other man's knee at the pace of a pregnant sea cucumber. "So hit you like that. And you might just go down like a sack of bricks -- if you didn't see it coming, and I'm hitting you hard enough?"

"Most people are fighting because they're pissed. Especially the ones you're gonna find in a bar fight. They're usually bad fighters. What Seth's teaching you will help you keep your balance when people are swinging chairs and shit. Things in Dreams usually want to hurt or kill you, and they're not gonna go for your leg - but knowing where your weight is, and controlling that, is still gonna help you deal with what they throw at you," Alexander chimes in. And even uses Seth's first name, although he doesn't seem to notice that he's done so as he stares fixedly at them both.

Then winces. "Fuck." He scowls in Seth's direction. "Now that's in my head and it is worse. Goddamn it." He eyes the water bottle like he wishes it was Everclear.

"Gregory's weed shop blew right the fuck up," Alexander remarks, out of the blue. Or maybe not so out of the blue, because he adds, "Didn't you see the cloud? Big green cloud." He snickers to himself, then frowns. "Hope the kid's okay. He was alright, for a drug dealer." He refocuses. "Can't chase you if the knee joint is broken. Or at least, it's harder."

Seth grins, knowing the mental image of him in nothing but an apron is going to haunt the men for at least the next hour or so. Mission accomplished. "My job isn't so bad. I just have to take out the trash every so often, and tell hot girls no, they can't go in the VIP area without a pass. No, not even for sexual favors. It's a rough life."

"What Alexander is saying is true. I don't know how effective this shit is going to be against things from over there. My only encounter has been with a pregnant frog, so not exactly the most dangerous of things. I can only show you what I know, and you will just have to improvise from there." If Seth caught that Alexander used his first name, he doesn't mention it, though the investigator does get a quick little glance when he starts talking about the weed shop. "I hadn't heard. Green smoke? Really? What kind of weed was the guy selling, anyway?"

"Is that what it is? Oh thank God. Being high I can handle." Ravn genuinely does look relieved. Then his mind circles back to what Alexander said at first and he nods. "It's not the bar brawls that I'm worried about, no. Drunk guy at the Twofer? I can handle that. I've handled a lot worse. Aztec goddesses conjuring up zombie hordes or headless horsemen coming at me with a broadsword? That's what I need to learn to deal with."

He shakes his head at Seth, though. "See, you call that a rough life -- I call it a bloody nightmare. The last thing I want is some woman fancying herself attractive to slide up to me and get friendly like that, regardless of the reason. You can be sure there'll end up being hands in places I don't expect them, and then I'm spending an hour in the rest room trying to stop hurting. It's one thing I bloody love about working at the Twofer -- no one hits on me."

The Dane shakes his head. "Ugh. I feel like I could eat a cow and my focus is everywhere. I hate to get punched and run but I really should. But if either of you are up for walking me through a few paces every now and then, I really would appreciate it." He wanders off towards the showers because focus? Focus are for people who haven't inhaled entirely too much green smoke and now cannot think of anything but a bagel. One of those with goat cheese.

"Same principle, though," Alexander says, pointing at Ravn. "If you can handle a bar brawl, you've got a better shot at handling the rest. You don't have to be a prize fighter or anything. But knowing how to move, how to roll with a punch, how to sweep a leg, or someone trying to sweep yours? It's good. It's all good. Wish I'd had someone to teach me."

He snorts at the 'rough life' Seth mentions, although he goes all tense when the Firefly is mentioned, then relaxes when Ravn seems uninclined to look in that direction for employment. He stands up. "I don't know how to teach. He's better," A gesture with the bottle at Seth. "But if you want someone to punch you while you try to dodge, sure. I guess." A shrug, before he adds, to Seth, "Uh, shit. He gave me the run down at one point. Lots of varieties, and some that made you energetic, and some that made you lethargic. He had a license." And then Alexander snorts again, waiting until Ravn's wandered off to cool down before adding, "For the weed."

Seth sips at his water, watching Ravn wander off towards the showers before turning and nodding to Alexander. "It was more of a rhetorical question, Alexander, but thank you for sharing."

The enforcer takes another sip, moving to go lean against the ropes over in the corner, letting the ropes hold some of his weight. "So, where did you learn to fight, Alexander? You're pretty good for someone who isn't a 'professional'."

"I don't like rhetorical questions," Alexander grouses, wandering over to lean against the outside of the ring at the opposite corner from Seth, watching the man. "What's the point in asking a question you don't want answered? It's incomplete. Frustrating." He takes a swig from the bottle, shrugs at the question. "Like I said. My toys tried to cut me open when I was eight. Shit's been trying to kill me Over There most of my life. And over here..." his mouth quirks upwards, "you might have noticed that I'm not well liked. That's not new. People jump you enough times, you either figure out how to hit back or you...die, I guess. I don't like dying. It seems unpleasant. And apparently if you die Over There, sometimes they keep you around. Even more unpleasant."

"Well that sounds lovely. The thought of something keeping my dead corpse as a plaything? Yeah, I'll pass on that. " Seth says as he wrinkles his nose up in a gesture of disgust. "As far as people not liking you, you know you are not so bad when you aren't poking your nose into things that you shouldn't. A little annoying with your quirks, sure, but all in all not so bad. Were you always like this, or did this OCD business happen over time? A side effect of being over there too much?"

Alexander blinks, then shakes his head. "No. Not your corpse." A pause. "Maybe your corpse. A lot of them do look sort of dead. But with you still in it. Alive. Sort of. I think life and death get sort of complex on that side of things." He takes a drink, frowns at Seth. "Just because people don't want me to poke my nose into them doesn't mean I shouldn't. And I'm not OCD. For the record." He shrugs. "As to why...I don't know? My abilities have been on since I was a kid. You ever had the shit people do to each other beamed into your head as a six or seven year old? See how normal you are after you spend a few years feeling people beat their spouses, their kids, and worse, and not be able to do anything about it because you can't prove it."

He shrugs. "Could ask you the same question, anyway. I doubt turning down sexual favors from hot girls and breaking legs was exactly your childhood dream."

Seth relaxes casually in the corner, well as casually as you can relax in a boxing ring anyway. The enforcer shrugs a shoulder, sipping his water. "That's true enough. I've had quite a few odd jobs in my time, but never really settled down into a proper career. When my cousin called and asked for me to come to work the door to the club, I decided I might as well. I had nothing else tying me down. Besides, it gave me a new hobby. I never knew how much I would actually enjoy doing light rigging...it's very peaceful. Putting a light show together gives me a sense of accomplishment, you know? I like it. If it wasn't for me coming here, I would never have found that."

He takes another drink, "You're not OCD? Ok, sorry. I didn't mean that as an insult, honestly. You just have all these quirks, so I just assumed. Yes...I know what they say. As far as over there....well, that is even more horrifying. Thanks for that. I've been told I have abilities, something about starting fires and breaking bones or something, but I know shit about them. If I have them, I never use them. Not since the incident back in my teens, anyway...if that is what it was."

"Light rigging?" Alexander cocks his head to one side. "Putting together lights? Huh. Always wondered how that got done. I assumed it was...programmed. In a machine. Or something." He folds his arms on one of the ropes, leans in. "It's good. To have a sense of accomplishment."

A shake of his head. "Not insulted. People say worse. I'm just...weird. I don't think there's a word for it. Schizotypal personality disorder is probably closest, but it doesn't account for the fact that monsters do exist, and that I can, actually, hear other people inside my head, and they're real." A brief flash of a grin, that dies almost as soon as it's born. "You're a healer, then. You don't have to use it. A friend thinks that we're punished for using them, so if you never use them, and stay clear of those of us who do, then you don't have to worry about getting Lost, or the Shadows eating you. I don't know that he's entirely correct. But using them does attract Them. But if you don't...know what you're doing, then incidents are more likely, when you're scared, or stressed, or angry."

And because he's nosy, he follows it up with, "What happened?"

"Part of it is done with computers to be sure, but there is still the hardware portion of it. Setting them up, positioning them, etc. It's not rocket science, but there is a science to it." the enforcer says as he runs his fingers through his short hair. "As far as not getting Lost, well that idea flew out the window a few nights ago. I haven't been around people too much when they were using whatever gifts they have, but I got sucked into one of those Dreams anyway. So if that is going to happen, maybe I should learn how to use whatever it is I have, especially if it is something useful like healing. I'll have to hit up Maggi at some point."

Seth takes another drink, "Oh, I was twelve? Thirteen? Somewhere around there and I was here in the Harbor visiting with my cousin and his family. I was pissed off with one of the other local kids for some reason, maybe he called me a name or something I don't really recall what it was about but whatever it was pissed me off enough that I was thinking I wanted him to 'die in a fire'...you know as a kid will think. Not really meaning it, but thinking it. Or maybe you don't know, or maybe it isn't as normal as I think. Anyway, next thing I knew the guy's clothes spontaneously combusted. Thankfully, he was fine since we were by a pool and someone had the wherewithal to shove him in. I tried to talk to Felix about it at the time, but he just told me I was crazy so never really thought about it again. Not till recently."

Alexander nods. "That's why I don't entirely believe. Even people who don't stand out at all - who don't have abilities - can get sucked into a Dream. If they survive it, they don't remember it, but it does happen." He hums, looks Seth over. "Healing, yeah. Plants, too. And the fire." There's a wince of sympathy at the mention of the previous incident. "That happens a lot. Around that age. If people have abilities, they tend to come out about that time, when you're angry or whatever. I'm glad the kid wasn't hurt." And then his voice goes flat. "Never talk to Felix Monaghan about these things, though. He doesn't stand out. I don't know if he even can believe you, or anyone. But if he did..." he shakes his head. "Just don't."

"I don't, not since that day anyway," Seth says as he lifts his bottle to his lips to take a drink. "He didn't believe me then, I doubt he would believe me now so why bother, you know? Hell, I still barely believe it and I know it actually happened now. The thought of me, de la Vega, Kelley and a couple of others all standing around with me in my birthday suit isn't something I am likely to forget." Seth eyes Alexander for a moment in quiet contemplation, opening his mouth to say something before thinking better of it and closing it again.

Alexander nods. "Good." He takes a drink, and can't help but laugh a rusty laugh at the picture Seth paints. "That's something that would probably linger, yeah." He notices the hesitation. "Go ahead. Say what you gotta say." His eyebrows rise up, an arch that's half curiosity and half challenge.

Lifting his bottle to his lips Seth eyes Alexander for a while, contemplating before finally asking, "Just what is it you think you know about me and my family anyway, Alexander?" Challenge accepted.

Alexander just waits, although not quietly. His hands are always fidgety, and now is no exception as they skitter this way and that down the ropes. "You? Not much. Your family? A bit. I investigate crimes. Especially crimes that, for various reasons," his voice is very dry, "don't seem to get investigated by our fine law enforcement personnel as much as one might think they should be." He shrugs. "Gray Harbor has a lot of misery. Felix Monaghan doesn't own all of it. Maybe not even most of it. But he owns more than his share."

"At least you have the balls to answer honestly," Seth says as his brow arches in a bit of surprise. "I'll give you all the props for that, Alexander. I honestly thought you would skirt the question, but no. You went and grabbed that bull by the horns. Respect."

Seth takes another sip, letting the cool water sit in his mouth for a bit before asking his next question, "What about de la Vega? I don't know the guy very well. What are your takes?"

Alexander's head tilts to one side. "Why? I don't have any evidence. Even if I did, you and I both know an investigation wouldn't get far, even if I wasn't the town crazy person, which I am. And," he frowns, "at this moment in time, I'd rather Felix be where he is than this outsider character and his thugs. Which means, for the duration, even if I had something I could use, I wouldn't, because I want those assholes gone. In jail, preferably, but I will accept a variety of outcomes."

His expression closes down at the mention of Ruiz. "No," he says, simply. "You want to know about Javier, ask him yourself. Or someone else."

Seth rolls his shoulder into a shrug, "Fair enough. I just figured since you seem to know a lot about a lot, you would be the person to ask. I've just had a few interactions with Jim in the recent past, and I just can't really get a read on him." A beat. "What do you know about this outsider?"

"Javier," Alexander says, scowling at the nickname, and at Seth. He huffs an irritated breath, but...it's hard for Alexander not to answer a direct question, and this is a subject that he seems more easy about answering. He pushes himself off the side of the ring and starts to pace, eyes flicking this way and that. "Mmmm. Probably came into town about six months before he started making his moves for certain. Smart. Calculating. The only name for him I have is Reyes. The police might have more. Likely affiliated with a Canadian organization called the Red Scorpions. Do the usual cartel work - drugs, smuggling, human trafficking, violence. No doubt you're familiar with the concept." His voice is dry again. "Brutal. Willing to accept collateral damage. Has been bribing some of Felix's people, or just threatening them to turn. He's dangerous, but I think at the moment he wants to take over the organization as complete as he can get it. Almost certainly behind the hit on Felix."

"I don't know much about the hit, to be honest. I wasn't in town. I just heard it happened, and it was the catalyst for me to come back." says Seth as he watches Alexander pace around the ring. "I know Kelley was there. I think I heard Javier was there, which was why I was interested in him, and I know obviously Felix was there. Tragic about Andre."

Seth sighs, finishing his water bottle. "Well, it's been an interesting day, Alexander. We may not see eye to eye on things often, but I actually enjoyed talking with you today. 'Fraid I have to call it a day though, I need to go get ready to work and run a few errands."

"I was there, too," Alexander says, with a shrug. "It failed. I don't know if they'll try again. None of their guys survived, and I wouldn't expect the same openings to be there." He rubs at his upper arm, absently, and nods his head. "It was fine. I enjoyed talking with you, too." And that's it. He just turns and walks away towards the showers, taking off pads and gathering them up as he goes.