Re: [punching, the redux]
Adrian didn't really know who he was anymore. He was in the act of becoming someone else, not solidly that person yet. In the mirror in the morning he had examined his own face for signs of someone yet recognizable, bared his teeth as if there would be a new gap to identify, a crooked canine revealing that he was, in fact, someone new.
He hadn't forgotten the sting, the gravitational drag of watching Patrick and Newt in bed together. He hadn't forgotten how it felt - he hadn't forgotten either that Patrick was his younger brother, and in the middle of a tornado of turmoil himself. It made him hard to be angry with, but it didn't stop Adrian from wanting to fight him. THe feeling was sour and unpleasant, but not confronting it hadn't gotten him anywhere. He wanted to get it out of his system, if he could. If he couldn't, he wanted to face it head on at least once, and then do everything in his power to get out from under it.
He didn't need Patrick to strike first, but he didn't get the opportunity to respond. Patrick was already striking him, digging under his ribs with bare knuckles. Adrian wasn't on his toes today - he was distant, still a little outside, still in his own head. The contact dragged him back to planet earth.
It didn't quite knock the breath out of him, but he did stagger back. He tightened his stance, brought up his hands, and moved onto the balls of his feet. They were doing this, and he wasn't going to be caught unawares again. The beginnings of a good edge of adrenaline began to leak into his veins, and he shifted forward onto his dominant foot to close the space between them, aiming a square punch for Patrick's jaw. "I don't want to hurt you," he said, through gritted teeth. "But I do want to fight you."