Who: Justice and Ken When: Early morning What: After leaving Gus's place, Justice needs to blow off steam. Ken's there to lasso the whirwind. Where: Tower of Babylon Fitness Rating: PG-13 Status: Incomplete
Justice Cooper was wound up. Getting jumped, then fending off the concerns of friends she shouldn't have, only to fight temptation to get closer... then adding in booze and hedonistic drives that hadn't been fulfilled in too goddamn long had the demonic blooded hunter's insides tied in knots of razor wire when she left the Sheriff's house in the cold. She hadn't even gone home; her destination was the gym, where she had a locker full of more appropriate clothing ready.
Beating the crap out of a hanging sand-bag in the mirrored studio wasn't anywhere near what she needed, but it was slowly working the edge off. The problem was, as soon as a little bit of the Hellish burn in her soul went away, and she paused long enough to catch her breath - it'd flare right up again. She'd been at it for half an hour in the room where they usually host classes, but it was still too early for those; gritty exertions of her voice tortured the bag with sharp kicks and taped-knuckle punches. Her newly dyed blond hair hung with heavy curl, pasted to her face in places, clinging to sweat that sheened her whole body.
But it just wasn't enough. She needed something that could fight back, and knocking the bag on it's chains with a particularly savage kick, Justice briefly thought about barging straight into the casino and picking a fight with the first Hellspawn she could find.
But she was distracted from the chaos in her head by the realization that she was being watched. Justice snapped a look behind her, then quickly squared her shoulders at the man in the doorway. Her breaths heaving - almost growling - fists at her side in a coiled readiness that desperately cried out for a focus.