Aaron had to laugh at the idea the dojo belonged to him. A year ago, he'd have told you to fuck off and made you run laps around the building. "Kind of mine. Friend of mine, it's hers really but she's got kids now so she don't train much anymore..." he steadied the bag and looked at the fake Jake.
"Yeah, I gotta rule; no bitching, no whining, no grouching. You come here to work that shit out, do it by learning how to land a punch the right way. Classes end in a match; loser gets the beers in." He tilted his head as Jake rifled through the bag. "All clear?"