Re: log: matt/dahlia
While she pivoted and turned, he was already removing his jacket, dropping it on a workbench. The hoodie underneath was thin and threadbare, and it did nothing to conceal his thick frame, broad in the shoulders, stocky, built for power rather than speed. Faster than he looked, though, even with the arm weighing him down. He reached into the pack and pulled out a second wrap.
He wasn't going to hold back - that wouldn't be a problem. He had already mentioned that his left arm wasn't altogether real, though, and while the fingers seemed to move in the glove, he still didn't wrap it, leaving it was it was. He wasn't going to be using it. Tough as she was, he had no intention of crushing his sparring partner's skull, and he'd been sparring without using it for...well, honestly he had no idea. He just knew he was comfortable working with it and without it, which meant he must have trained both ways.
He didn't take the hoodie off, though. A prosthetic was one thing, but his own was too unusual to expose to identification. That could bring attention, attention he neither wanted nor could afford. The only indication anything was out of the ordinary, aside from the glove, was the soft sound of wheezing metal against metal, something like spinning gears, a soft succession of clicks when he fell into a comfortable ready stance.
"Won't be a problem," he said. He still had some of the grit in his voice that came from years without speaking, but otherwise there was nothing there to place him, no trace of an accent, only a vague inflection toward amusement. He wasn't quite smiling, but the edge of his mouth was turned up, which might be the same thing. "Let's get down to it."