the son of witchcraft wakes up early and does some preliminary stretching. it's not much, just enough to wake his sleeping limbs so that he doesn't make himself look like a fool during the pre-game yoga session. he packs a bag to change after, but dressed in shorts and a tank top, nothing special.
he doesn't know why there's some nerves lingering in his system. maybe it's the boldness of asking if what strike had said was true, if he meant it. the straightforward answer he got was good, easy, enjoyable.
with the bag thrown over his shoulder, a yoga mat under his other arm, and what he'd need afterward to go to the high school, he knocks on strike's door. when the door opens, he offers a smile, combing a hand through his hair. "sorry if i'm too early." he offers another smile, apologetic. "felt like we might need a bit more than an hour before we leave, just in case."
@tactiiical
