footwork was the anti-thesis of what he knew in the realm of fighting, of reason; slugging through with punches en masse had served him well enough on the streets: why fix what wasn’t broken? he’d only wished he knew better than to even allow himself that one iota of ignorance, all in the wake of vik’s right hook. a rude awakening. that was where his questioning ended, and his undivided attention began. it was only a shame that his journey to enlightenment involved getting laid out on the ring, optics all in disarray as they adjusted to the flickering of faulty light panels above. “ shit, vik. “ albeit breathless, the wonder of his voice carried —- a lop-sided smile chasing it’s coattails. that was just like him to smile. “ ay yo can you. . . can you show me how you do that? show me again. “
@cryochronism , for vik.
