fandomhigh | Campsite Gym, Wednesday night

Current Mood: anxious

Campsite Gym, Wednesday night

Tyler? Pedaling about as fast as the exercise bike will go. It's training, yo.

And every few minutes, he looks to see if anyone is about to join him.

He's not sure how he wants the sparring match to turn out, although not beating English Peter into a coma would be a good step for him.

[OOC: Open to all. Also, this should be in

fandomhighdorms, but I messed up. My apologies.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Peter wanders into the gym right at the appointed time. Seeing Tyler already there, he waves. "Evening, Tyler. How's the afternoon been?"

"Hey, Peter. The library talks to people," Tyler deadpanned, hopping off the bike. "And I get to work there for the next couple months."

"What about you?"

[OOC: Oooh, good point. Fixed, I think.]

"Well, hopefully it won't say anything too disturbing before you're done," Peter replied. "And I've just been reading. Still trying to catch up on the past 60 years."

Tyler shrugged. "I'm not too fond of voices in my head, so I hope it just stays quiet," he said. "And when you get to Vietnam in your book? America loses. It sucks."

"I'm still dealing with the UK losing her Empire, but since Kennedy was just assassinated, I think that Vietnam's coming up next. Just what I want to read about. Another good war." Peter rolled his eyes.

"God is always on our side," Tyler said. "If you believe the books."

He stepped over to the mats. "So the rules I've usually used are no shirt, no shoes, go as long as you need to, quit when someone says quit. That good for you?"

"It's the definition of 'our' that will get you," Peter said.

"That works for me," Peter said, taking off his shirt and shoes and throwing them to the side.

"That's where people usually disagree," Tyler said, also tossing his shirt and shoes aside.

He paced to the center of the mat and assumed a boxing stance. "Ready when you are."

Peter moved to the center of the mat as well and held out his hands to touch the gloves they weren't wearing.

He then moved into position, bouncing slightly from foot to foot.

Tyler also moved into position.

He hesitated for a moment, reminding himself Peter had been a friend.

"One, two, three," he counted off.

Then he punched out at Peter's side.

Peter dodged quickly out of the way of the Tyler's punch and threw a jab-cross combination at Tyler's upper shoulder and chest.

The punch hit Tyler shoulder as he danced out of range, and he enjoyed the familiar rush of hitting and being hit.

He retaliated with a uppercut jab to Peter's chin, putting a bit mroe force behind the blow.

Peter was able to just move backwards far enough to prevent Tyler's punch from connecting. Circling left a few steps, he threw another combination of punches, this time cross, cross with a heavy right hook following.

Tyler managed to anticipate the punch, sliding to the side so that the hook met only air.

Pulling into himself, he rained a quick series of jabs toward Peter's chest.

Peter moved backwards as Tyler came toward him but caught his foot on the mat preventing him from dodging all the jabs. Taking the last couple in the chest, he danced to Tyler's left then darted back to throw a right-left cross combination towards Tyler's chest following it up with an uppercut aimed at the belly.

Peter's blows connected, and Tyler's eyes narrowed.

He wanted to destroy this guy.

His whole body was a nerve ending as he circled Peter on the mat, on guard, lookingfor any speck of weakness.

Finally, he threw a cross to Peter's left shoulder. Thew it hard.

Peter misjudged the speed of Tyler's punch enough that it plowed into his shoulder with almost full force. He jumped backwards, rotating the shoulder a bit to check its movement.

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he waited for half a beat, then moved to Tyler's right, sending a hard jab straight towards his sternum.

"Ow," Tyler muttered as the blow connected, then gritted his teeth and bounced a bit on the balls of his feet.

His next blow was a roundhouse, aimed squarely at Peter's nose. Peter's perfect nose.

It didn't take very much for Peter to dodge the blow to his face. Because it was a fist. Coming at his face.

He smoothly moved to the right and threw a quick jab-cross towards Tyler's chest.

Tyler managed to didge that one.

And realized Peter was better than he was.

Oops.

Moving as fast as he could, he spun a roundhouse kick at Peter's stomach, hoping to surprise him.

The kick definitely surprised Peter who didn't generally expect feet to be in play. He gave a hearty "oomph" when it landed and stumbled back a step.

With a quick two steps, he was close enough to Tyler to prevent another kick right away. Peter threw a hard cross towards the spot where Tyler's shoulder and chest met and an uppercut towards the sternum.

The blows connected, again, and Tyler paused for a moment to catch his breath

When he looked back up, he moved much closer to Peter with two quick steps and shoved at him with both palms. "You think you're good," he rasped, and there was something very hard in his eyes.

A bit confused at the statement, Peter replied "not particularly, no." He took a step or two back to allow Tyler to call out if he wished.

Tyler grimaced.

And launched himself at Peter, trying to bear-hug him and tackle him to the mat in one rapind movement.

Peter's brain took a second too long to register Tyler's intention. He hit the mat hard and had his breath knocked out of him.

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