fandomtownies | Magic Box, Monday

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Magic Box, Monday

The store was open, but the manager was suspiciously absent from the counter, where a piece of paper sat with Yell for service scrawled on it in Surreal's messy hand.

Surreal herself was down in the basement. Taking out the ~~upset~~ ~~anger~~ frustration of losing ~~her mother~~ Titian a second time on the punching bag she'd hung from the ceiling.

The Magic Box was open, but you'll need to holler for service.

[OCD freeeeeeeeeee!]

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Cara was supposed to be back in the Midlands, but she'd weighed up the chances of Richard getting himself killed versus her agieling the first person who asked how her weekend was, and decided to take an extra day.

She glanced at the note on the counter, then called out "Surreal?"

There was a thunk from the basement as Surreal laid into the dummy. "Downstairs!" she called. "Watch your head on the landing."

Cara followed the sound of the thunk towards then down the stairs, ducking her head as she passed under the landing.

"Do you want something else to hit?" she asked since 'is everything okay' was a blatantly stupid question. Also, Cara was about as skilled at offering emotional support as she was at asking for it.

Surreal pushed her hair out of her face with one hand and looked at Cara. "Do you?" she asked. Because Surreal was also about as skilled at offering emotional support as she was asking for it, but she'd have to be a really really shitty girlfriend not to realize that Cara had had a terrible weekend, too.

Cara nodded, moving in closer to Surreal. "Yes." This was much simpler and easier than talking about it.

"And if there's anything else you needed. After." Because right this moment she was pretty sure they both needed to hit things more than anything else.

Surreal just grunted in assent, and started taking down the punching bag to give them more room. "Food, maybe."

Because there probably wasn't going to be any talking about it.

Pfft, that might have been healthy or something.

Cara looked around the room to double-check there wasn't anything to trip over. "Or the Onsen?" she suggested, a noticeable lack of entendre or innuendo in her voice.

"Onsen, then food, if I can still move," Surreal decided, a wry note in her voice. "I could soak for hours."

And probably would, given the bruises from sparring the other day, and the fresh ones she was about to get from Cara.

"Think they'd just let me move in permanently?"

That sounded almost as good right now as the hitting did. "I'm sure I could change their minds if they said no." Cara was only half joking, her definition 'anything else' was rather more broad than most peoples.

"Ready?" The way she was standing, she didn't expect Surreal's response to be verbal.

No, Surreal's response was going to be a very direct punch aimed at Cara's head. Not verbal. Talking was for... talk-y people.

Talky people who weren't them.

Rather than duck out of the way of the blow, Cara let her head move with the impact as it connected. Not that she was 'giving' her the first punch, or anything so insulting as that, but because it left Surreal at the perfect distance for Cara to aim a vicious backhand at her face.

That hurt. And was going to leave a Hell of a bruise. Surreal snarled in response, tasting blood, and used the momentum as she turned around and directed her boot squarely at Cara's gut.

...hopefully for both of them Cara hadn't eaten recently?

It probably was for the best that Cara's appetite has been basically non-existent the last few days, given how solidly Surreal's boot connected with her belly, the air exiting her lungs with a harsh gasp.

So if Surreal could just hold still long enough for Cara's knee to return the favour, that would be just dandy.

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Magic Box, Monday

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