"It's been a while," Ares replied, examining Bia's stance, wondering if she'd changed up her fighting style in a while. Or, ever. He raised his fists, lining them up in front of his face, dropping into a fighting stance. "You still got fists of sand? Thud, thud." He mimed having heavy, ineffective hits.
He still had to keep an eye out for the man-bull and the little psycho, because if she blindsided him, Bia might get a good hit in. Imagine turning up to work tomorrow with a black eye. That just wouldn't fit the untouchable image.