Receiving new bruises every morning was one of the things Olivia had yet to get used to in her new life as a Hound. Although, she didn't know if getting used to it was necessarily a good thing either. With a groan, she pushed herself off the mat with a quick roll, dodging the follow-up kick just in time, and slunk back into the defensive stance as her instructor circled her menacingly. Today's lesson was restraint, admittedly one of her weakest subjects. She was allowed only to counterattack and defend; acting out of turn resulted in three free blows on her body. So far, she'd gotten four punches on the gut and three kicks everywhere else. It was getting increasingly difficult to maintain her calm, not that she had much to begin with.

After an hour of barely dodging and two more rounds of punishment, she finally started getting attuned to her instructor's movements. She learned to use her keen hearing to anticipate the attacks, and managed to relieve a little pent-up aggression by delivering her countering blows harder than necessary. The slight downward curve on her instructor's usually straight lined mouth made her beam with pride. Olivia became complacent then, convinced she'd mastered restraint already. But as it often turned out during her lessons, she was wrong. She'd gotten good at controlling herself against physical attacks, but it seemed her quick temper was no match for well-formulated taunts and insult.

The moment her instructor had mentioned her father, her temper flared, and she was yelling before she knew it. Immediately, the mirrors that lined the walls of their training room shattered, littering the ground with shards. A weapon rack in the corner of the room had toppled over, and the clanging of wooden swords echoed painfully in her ears. She dropped to her knees then, exhaustion suddenly weighing her down. Her instructor stood with his arms crossed over his chest, a steely look in his eyes that she learned was disappointment, and took out the earplugs he wore as he approached her.

"That's enough for today," he said, pulling her up to her feet. He went to the side of the room where her things were haphazardly strewn and went to retrieve something from her duffel bag. Olivia had half a mind to protest, but the pointed look he'd given her made her shut up. As reckless as she was most of the time, even she knew better than to incur the wrath of a hardened Hell Hound twice her size. She accepted the muzzle from him begrudgingly and did her best not to make a face as he set the condition. "Until noon."

Only three and a half hours then. She supposed that wasn't too bad. 

---

She received Disciple's message on her smartwatch at 9:25, and by then, she was freshly showered and out of her training garb. She pulled her slightly damped hair up in a high ponytail and smoothed her short red skirt. Olivia took a moment to look herself in the mirror. She wore a crop top, skirt, and wedge booties. Bruises, old and new, were scattered over her arms and legs. The metal muzzle was on her face, covering her chin and part of her cheeks. She looked like a pup being trained not to bark… which she supposed she technically was. Olivia rolled her eyes; she couldn't even laugh sardonically at herself.

Conference room 345B was only a minute's walk form her training room, and she made it in time without needing to hurry. As she slipped in, Olivia noticed that they were about ready to begin. The professional silence that filled the room unnerved her as always, and as she looked about the room, she wondered why many of the Hounds were so surly. Maybe that came with the job? She couldn't imagine being like them in the future. Shrugging, Olivia turned to greet Nate—no, wait, it was [i]Rune[/i], right?—with a smile before remembering she was being Silenced for a couple of hours. She opted for a quick friendly pat on his shoulder instead and greeted the rest with a wave of her hands, wondering if the older ones (like real old; she was still fascinated by the other supernatural beings here, like that snake man and the Japanese vampire) would think her childish for doing so. Then she plopped down on a seat, taking the one next to Dragon, her fellow Hell Hound and sourpuss extraordinaire, already eager for the meeting to end.