Re: log: patrick and adrian punch things
Adrian regularly reminded himself that Patrick was much younger than him, and the fact that he needed to remind himself said something. He didn't do a very good job as an older brother. Not lately, anyway. He had tried to give Patrick the help and calm he had needed when he first called him straight from the book, panicked that he had hurt someone. Then that person had turned out to be Newt, and their roles had rapidly reversed.
That couldn't be fair. Did fairness enter into it? Everyone in the world, including Newt and Patrick, seemed to think it didn't - that he should feel whatever he was going to feel about all of it, and stop trying to assign values to those feelings.
They probably should have taken more measures to protect themselves, but Adrian assumed they'd be pulling their punches. This was sparring, wasn't it? They could focus on the bob-and-weave, and not make any serious contact.
"War?" When Patrick made the first move, he shifted to the side. The punch fell short, and he matched it with a hook low to Patrick's abdomen. He began to move, staying light on the balls of his feet, shifting to stay out of easy reach. "You were a soldier?" His mind raced. What did that mean for his good-hearted brother, who preferred quiet forests? "What was the war over?"
After a few moments of movement, it began to feel natural to talk around strikes and counter-strikes. He stayed wary, glancing from Patrick's hands to his eyes, looking for some sign that he had been off to war. He bit his tongue when Patrick said he wasn't needed here, with a flick of the eyes that indicated thought. Then, after a moment's pause, he followed through with it anyway. "You're needed here," he said. "That doesn't mean you have to stay."
Sue. Adrian's expression darkened visibly. "No," he said. "I'm fine." He feinted at Patrick's center of mass before a jab to his solar plexus. The punch was still pulled, so any contact would be little more than a push. "I'm not," he said then, blinking rapidly. He knocked his boxing gloves together, a hard, fast, smack to bring the moment back into focus and keep himself present in it, and he struck out at Patrick again. "I will be. I will be."