[@Zelosse]

Jordan had found Catherine's speech and the subsequent freak-out by that student to be equal parts interesting and also hard to read. Still the sense of rebellion the boy emitted was palpable, yet shallow. [i]Fuck the whole lot of you?[/i] Jordan thought it was certainly showy, but maybe not quite sincere. Especially seeing as he'd watched the boy storm out of the audience hall as though the devils themselves were at his heels. A true rebel wouldn't be fearing punishment, might actually embrace it, if he came seeking it the way that boy did. Surprisingly, this out-of-place action was so fascinating he found himself entirely forgetting about Catherine in the process. Jordan walked out of the audience hall in search of food, thoughts still turning over in his head.

***

Jordan was munching on a loaf of banana bread as he went over tomorrow's first class and its objectives. Safety protocol, double-checking the locks on his shed, and starting with basic drills, essentially. The sound of the door to the gym opening caught his attention, but only for a second. Jordan thought the curfew was far too early, and though almost never used his work office in the main administrative building, the gym's tiny office in the student building was practically Jordan's second home. Jordan kept munching banana bread and jotting down notes, but then he heard the punches.

They were strong, inexperienced but with plenty of latent power. Just the sound of knuckles meeting leather gave Jordan a general idea of the trainee's technique. Driven by emotion; irregular tempo but quick pace. Not power strokes, but furious. Jordan set his notes aside, keeping hold of the loaf, and he crept out of his office. The student in question, had their back turned to Jordan, but he recognized the rebel just by how he held himself. And those mats of thick black hair were distinctive too. In the half-light, Jordan saw that the blue punching bag had stains on it. Jordan walked up behind the boy and confirmed his observations. The boy's stance could use some work and his form was sloppy, but the necessary building blocks were present to make a strong athlete indeed. Maybe even a soldier.

"I never liked to use gloves either, felt like I was punching air. Of course, your hands are gonna sting like nothing else tomorrow morning. Did you notice the weak point in your stance?"

[hr]

Jideh had realized when Hargor had brought up room arrangements that he'd forgotten his luggage outside the greenhouse. While the other students rushed to find their rooms, he found his way back to the place he'd left his luggage and lugged it all the way back to the student building. Acquiring a key and thanking the woman profusely, the youngest Basrah child settled into his dorm room. His personal affects, some herbology books, his gardening paraphernalia, a few pots filled with earth, and his clothes of course, all had a place in the room. His pots were lined up with the window in such a way that they would receive sunlight for most of the day. Changing into PJs, Jideh decided the best start would be an early one, and he turned his lights off. If his roommate showed up, he might get up and say hello. Otherwise, Jideh was tuckered out, and like the plants he loved, needed rest in order to really bloom tomorrow. The bed was really comfy. Jideh's thoughts turned to his family and the farm as he sank down into sleep...