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[credere]

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[poetontheinside]

Hey, champ. [He comes up to him, seeming chipper enough, and reaches over to pat him on the shoulder.]

I told you I trained people before, right? Kids from gangs. They might even have been almost as stubborn as you.

[credere]

'Champ' feels condescending but he can't put a finger on why, so he doesn't interrogate that thought very hard.

"I think you told me that," he says, cautiously. "...I'm not that stubborn."

He's here, isn't he?

[poetontheinside]

He's gone into his weird little gym-persona, Ray the trainer, Ray the guy who doesn't quite belong but sticks with the plan because he's got a passion. He leads him towards the back of the gym, where there isn't anyone else.

"No? Well, okay, but I am. You doin' okay?"

[credere]

"I think so. My friend's boyfriends got married."

He's still processing. Half his mind is still in a place where that would be irretrievably weird and very illegal.

[poetontheinside]

It wasn't exactly something normal for him, either, and even though it made him melancholy he'd liked it. Maybe partly because it's not something he ever could have seen back home.

"Oh, yeah, I was there too. Nice ceremony, right?" He's trying to prompt him into elaborating, because I think I'm okay followed by that statement might mean he's less okay than he thinks.

In the meantime, though, he's getting out gloves and tape for Credence's hands.

[credere]

"I don't know. I'd never been to a wedding before, and they were already married by then," he says, with a shrug. Holding a ceremony after the fact seemed a bit beside the point.

[poetontheinside]

"I thought it was pretty nice," he says, as he starts unspooling some tape.

"Hands out? I'll wrap 'em up, make sure you don't pull anything. I didn't talk to Quentin, was he okay?" The whole polyamory thing is still a little much for Ray, in that he accepts that they're all alright with it but he just can't imagine being in that position.

[credere]

Credence holds his hands out willingly.

"He was alright," he confirms, to say nothing of how he was when he first found out - but that's nobody's business, not even really Credence's, even though he was there at the time. "We mostly talked about...us, I guess. He and I."

Vague enough, Ray?

[poetontheinside]

Sure, he loves vague conversations!

He looks up at his eyes for a second before resuming his job, expertly and quickly wrapping his hands up. "About your memories coming back?"

[credere]

"No, not really. We'd talked about that already. It was more about the wedding, and...how I'd...kissed him."

Yeah, that's a whole thing now. But at least the fact that Credence doesn't care much about Ray's opinion is loosening his tongue.

[poetontheinside]

Well, that was unexpected. Seems like everyone is coming out these days. He looks up at him, surprised, but clearly pleased for him.

"Oh, yeah? He kiss you back?"

[credere]

"A little. But - it's all - different. Because he's with them, and I'm...not part of their family."

It's the best he can explain.

[poetontheinside]

"So if you wanted to make it a thing, you'd have to deal with all of that?"

He takes his hands in his own to check them, tilting his head a little before giving a satisfied nod. He doesn't know to what extent this is a big revelation for Credence, but he's intent on putting as little pressure on it as possible.

[credere]

"I suppose."

But he'd much rather turn his attention to the bag.

"What do I need to do?"

He's lifted his arms a little, in readiness.

[poetontheinside]

He'll go with it, for now, but he definitely isn't going to let go of it in the long run. He looks around for a second, then twists and goes to grab some pads.

"I wanna show you the technique on these first. Bag's heavy, if you hit it wrong you're gonna hurt yourself."

He slips them onto his own hands and gets in front of him. "We'll put the gloves on you first. Curl your hands into fists, put the thumb between your index and middle finger."

[credere]

"Okay."

He does it. It feels unnatural and he's not sure how hard to squeeze his thumb, if at all.

"Like this...?"

[poetontheinside]

"Yeah. Don't worry, when you start punching you'll feel how it has to go. Stand like this--"

He gets into position, knees slightly bent, fists up, though his are already covered by the pads.

[credere]

Credence mirrors him. He looks stiff and feels very, very awkward. He's not sure when or how the exorcism of his anger is meant to start.

[poetontheinside]

"Alright, good," he says, staying in stance. "Go one-two, one-one-two. Left-right, left-left-right. Hard as you like."

[credere]

"I just...punch?"

It's a rhetorical question. One-two, one-on-two. The blows don't have much strength behind them; he's reasonably fit, physically, but he's not strong.

[poetontheinside]

"It's good to get the technique before you throw your weight into it," he points out. "'Cause you can hurt yourself if you do it wrong. But this looks good- move your shoulders a little more, shift your hips when you move forward?"

[credere]

"My hips?"

He tries, putting more of his body into the movement, but it feels wrong. He feels....weak, doing it. It's generating more frustration than it's alleviating.

[poetontheinside]

"Hold on, I'll show ya," he says, pulling off the pads and throwing a few punches. He does it slow a few times, and then goes jab-jab-jab, showing Credence.

"Feels unnatural at first, but if you just move your hands you're gonna pack less of a punch."

[credere]

"Alright," he says haltingly. He waits for Ray to put the pads back on, then tries again. He feels the impact a little more, supposes it's...better, but he doesn't know what effect it's having.

"What is this meant to do for me?"

[poetontheinside]

"Depends," he says, waiting patiently for him to get a rhythm going. "We talked about this for when you feel worked up, right? You feel worked up now?"