[center][img]http://orig09.deviantart.net/5ecf/f/2017/150/1/b/felix_by_fenixking13-dbaxlnu.png[/img] [color=crimson][h2]Felix Williams[/h2][/color][/center] The distrust was fading liytle by little as the expected outburst of 'punk' or 'brat!' Never graced the lips of the instructor. To Felix's reasoning it almost seemed like the guy had come over genuinely to talk.. not as a teacher figure. The cracks in Felixs mask of bitterness was cracking as the realization seened to set in. Making no move to accept the food, though he was indeed hungry, he chose to refocus his attention on the sandbag. Jordan was right about Felixs technique being poor, sloppy even, and the first hit on the bag beside him roused his attention to the teachers form. Firm foot, solid flow, every hit was strong and precise as it struck the same stretch again and again. It wasn't long before the two were in their own worlds. Manilow relived his time somewhere that had called for a strong body, and felix used his own fists and the sound of his strikes to tell his own story. Weakness. No control. To his own ears the blows wove a scene of betrayal and humiliation. Trademark scowl had been replaced by a look of profound loss. By the time Jordan had cleaned off his bag and said his goodbyes, Felix continued his course in as close a mirror of Manilows form as he could. Legs set firm and flat, both arms hit in sequence one after the other with a mixture of light jabs to strong thrusts. When Mwnilow finally wandered away, Felix finally stopped. The bag was red from where his bloodied hand had struck it but very little showed after so many hits.. using the bucket left behind, he wiped down the bag and the floor where it had dripped or splashed off. Every inch was meticulously washed and returned tk their place. The bucket and towel were left beside the office door along with a note hastily scrawled on the back of a curfew flier. [color=crimson][i]"Felix Williams. If you want an answer in earnest, prove you want to help. Consider this a challenge to your integrity. Fencing. During the free period after lunch. I win, you stop bothering me."[/i][/color] His signature had been placed at the bottom. ---------- Moments of his time in the small gym bounced in his mind as Felix stood rooted just outside the door to his assigned room. Inside was another student and living bekng just trying to survive. Given that he had just challenged Manilow to a duel, the urge to follow through on his threat now seemed hollow.. Was an exasperated sigh he walked away in search of a much quieter place. ---------- [@Old Amsterdam] Having stopped by the reception area and stolen one of the decorative pillows from the waiting couch, Felixs search for somewhere to put his head had yielded no results. The couch was a good choice but it was smack in the middle of the common room. In the morning it would flood with students no doubt.. Another choice was the stairway but that would mean answering stupid questions about why he was there. That just left one area. The roof. The door opened silently as he exited the building. The roof itself was flat and made of hard stone but that was preferential to sleeping on dirt. At first he didn't notice her, focused on the immediate surface, but the glimmer of moonlight through something in her hand drew his attention. Realizing someone else was here, he tried to put on the brute attitude and scowl but it fizzled due to exhaustion. Cradling his bruised right hand under the pillow, he made a point to bow slightly in apology for intruding and walked to the opposite side. Pillow tucked behind his head, Felix was soon sprawled out on the hard floor and gazing off into the stars.