[closed] yeah yeah and I'm alright

[5055034455]

Date & Time: June 29 — July ∞
Location: Around Exsilium
Characters: Saul & TBA
Summary: A catch-all log for Saul's many business etc. meetings throughout the month, because otherwise there would be like a million logs up. Not even an exaggeration. An actual million.
Warnings: Drugs in Jesse's thread, violence in Coby's, sap in Effie's.

[Sometimes, the best way to get over something is to find a suitable distraction.

Since Saul's #1 distraction has always been work, he doesn't see why that can't be the case here as well — he may not technically be practicing law at the moment, but his skill set is undeniably useful. Extremely so. (As far as he's considered, anyway.) He doesn't need his own office or a secretary or a PI or a bodyguard to get plenty of shit done. He's Saul Goodman, for godssakes — what the hell good is he if he's not working?

His hands have been idle for too long, and look at where they've gotten him.

Devil's tools indeed.

So here he is, keeping busy. Training, doing business, drinking more coffee (and alcohol) than he probably should. Whatever works, right? Right.]

Comments

Coby | July 6;

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[Saul has absolutely no idea what he's getting himself into. He's never had a personal trainer, never even considered learning a fighting style aside from "drunk, mad, and Irish," and even though he'd like to think he has a pretty decent right hook and is kind of in shape, he knows he's about to be proven wrong in every possible way.

This remains a bad idea.

And yet there he is, waiting for Coby in one of the training rooms. Maybe Coby will be proud that his new student had the good sense to do some stretches before getting started, but all odds point to Coby finding Saul sprawled out on the mat, eyes fixed on the ceiling, contemplating the pain in his future.

(...and his present. He might have tweaked something in his back while stretching. Shh.)]

[chore_boy]

[Three years ago, Coby would have been shaking and crying had he been in Saul's position. The young man had been completely terrified of literally all forms of violence, thinking it would be impossible for him to ever be strong and capable of defending himself. In three years, he made much more than just exponential steps, taking a borderline Captain America sort of turn in his stature.

He swung the door open to the training room, looking down at Saul, who had already planted himself on the floor. Raising one brow, Coby smiled in query.]

Good afternoon. Did you remember to bring everything?

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[The sound of the door opening makes him so tense that he might as well have not stretched at all.

Great.

He tilts his head to glance at Coby, already scowling.]

I'm here, aren't I?

[chore_boy]

Oh, come on. I take this very seriously, sir. [Coby didn't need to stretch. He had already been there for hours--just not in his hours for training others. Saul would be one of the first few for the day.]

I'm certain, though, that you may want to quit after today.

Do you think you will?

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[...that's not reassuring. Saul sits up with a groan and a flinch, twisting to one side to try to work out whatever damage he did. However he did it. He doesn't even know.]

Are you kidding me? I want to quit now. How's that sound? We can pretend this never happened. I won't tell anyone if you won't.

[chore_boy]

I wouldn't stop you at all, but I think you'd be losing out on a chance to better yourself.

[Coby, as casually as one could ever do such a thing, reached over to place one hand on Saul's shoulder and then the other on the small of the older man's back.

And just sort of push, to bend him at an awkward angle. Coby could tell when someone needed a ligament readjusted. Having had to do the same to himself on numerous occasions after Garp had punched him through entire fields, he could say it was a good skill to learn.]

[5055034455]

What the hell a—

[re you doing.

Huh.

Saul remains in place for a moment, grimacing and bent at that awkward angle, out of the fear that Coby might've just broken his back or something. That's why there's no pain, right? Because he's paralyzed now?

Cautiously, he straightens up, then casts another wary glance Coby's way.]

Didn't know you were a chiropractor, too.

[chore_boy]

I'm not.

[Coby's answer was simple, removing his hands from Saul only after he was sure the older man was standing properly rather than being hunched over in pain in the slim chance that he popped out another ligament and just made everything so much worse.

Saul didn't scream rather than giving a mixed look of irritation, surprise and TOTAL MISTRUST THAT WAS TOTALLY WELL-FOUNDED.]

I've had slips of my own. You could say my own trainer had been the perpetrator of the entirety of them.

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[Well.

The pain isn't gone completely, now that Saul's straightened out a little, but it's easily ignored. He'll get someone to rub it out later.

Here, Coby. Have a slightly alarmed stare.]

Is that what I should expect?

[chore_boy]

Of course not. [Coby smiled fondly, knowing he could train Saul roughly the same way with a lot more courtesy in his own actions.]

Vice Admiral Garp had this odd belief that simply beating someone can make them stronger. His methods were exceptionally brutal, but then--not entirely wrong. The reason for my own strength comes because he tightened my muscles with this training--so that I could use Rokushiki in the first place.

[Sauntering aside, Coby wandered towards the back of the training hall, picking up one of solid training dummies he occasionally lifted around. This one in particular was made of solid metal. Why on earth have a solid metal training dummy? As Coby hefted it onto its feet, he extended his index finger and drew his arm back--just before he stabbed it into the left pectoral of the dummy itself, making a clean hole in its metal frame. He left his finger there so Saul could look.]

Frankly speaking, this style requires intense muscle strength. Just lifting weights or doing regular exercises won't give you such a thing. Muscle strength is gained by your muscles 'stretching' and healing over and over, so it's natural that a drastic increase in strength comes from your muscles healing from intense stretching.

[Saul was probably dying from boredom, so Coby concluded--]

My training won't necessarily be strictly allowing you to try and connect attacks on me. I won't be striking you directly, but it will hurt. It's fortunate for you that the 'will' of my fist can be softer than my fist itself.

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[That's where Coby's wrong; Saul's not dying of boredom, but he's pretty sure he's about to maybe die of fright.

He stares at Coby like one of them has gone completely mad. None of what he just saw makes sense — wow, what a surprise — and he gulps, trying in vain to not look too freaked out.]

Not striking me directly? I don't —

[Time to take a step back, just in case Coby decides to demonstrate immediately.]

I'm not following.

[chore_boy]

'Will'. The same sort of ability I use to sense others when I'm blind can coat my body to act as armor. It's used to enhance my physical attacks.

However, it can also work to prevent my strength from causing you real harm. If I focus my will and weaken it enough, my punches won't strike you with full force at all.

[This was supposed to be comforting, he thought.]

However, I'd much rather ease you into training rather than exchanging blows with you. For starters, you'll be the only one attacking.

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[He's still confused. At least the prospect of attacking has him looking a little more confident...?]

I — right. Okay. Let's just get this thing going, huh? I always learn better by doing.

[Which is code for "CAN I PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE NOW PLEASE."]

[chore_boy]

Feel free.

[He smiled. It couldn't have been anymore an honest smile, but Coby was still hardly telling Saul the whole story. It would have to be pure luck for him to land a punch, which was totally fortunate.

If he landed a punch in the first place, he'd have to opt out for the day. Punching steel didn't often yield the best results. Coby raised both hands, keeping them level as if offering himself as a buffet of physical assault.]

[5055034455]

[Well.

Okay then.

Maybe this will be easier than he thought!

He makes a show of stretching out a bit more, then bounces on his toes like he's psyching himself up for what's about to happen, balls his right hand into a fist, and takes a surprisingly solid swing at Coby's face.]

[chore_boy]

First. [Coby could 'see' Saul ball up his fist even before he threw it. Turning himself just slightly, Coby let Saul's punch glide right by his face. One hand came up and he tapped Saul's clenched thumb with his fingertip. Even though he couldn't see it, Coby still knew where Saul's thumb was, just by means of his 'Observation'.]

You shouldn't tense your thumb. Leave it relaxed, provided it still isn't beneath your fist. It may help to keep it to the side of your index finger.

[At that, Coby took a few steps back, raising his hand again for Saul to try even more.]

Again.

[5055034455]

[Okay, he'll go for the hand this time. The face was a little ambitious. And mean.

Saul nods. No tensing — got it.

At least he's good with following directions; his thumb is plenty relaxed, posture steady. He takes a breath and swings again.]

[chore_boy]

Much better--and smarter. [Tensing on one heel, Coby simply let himself rotate out of Saul's reach without much effort at all. Even if he couldn't sense that kind of attack, the fact that he was limber enough helped him move without exerting energy.

If anything, he was intentionally trying to let Saul see what he was doing.]

The terrifying thing about the Six Styles is that it comes with variation. Even if I teach you all these basics and you don't learn a technique itself, you'll still have techniques of your own with enough effort.

[5055034455]

[And Saul is just frustrated. He's not the most agile guy, sure, but he can't quite wrap his head around how he didn't land that punch and Coby just leaned out of the way like a flower in a sweet springtime breeze.

What a dick.]

What technique do you call that?

[chore_boy]

'Paper Drawing'.

[Coby reached to his hip and unsheathed his sword, tossing it over his head without looking at it. As the blade came down at his head, Coby didn't do a thing--rather, his body drifted out of the way of the blade as if he were shoved, though so peacefully it was as ridiculous as if he were a leaf riding on the wind.

The sword stabbed into the ground, vibrating from its impact only briefly.]

Control over your body to this extent will allow you to be pushed by the wind itself, so any attack rushing for you will move you out of its path for you.

[5055034455]

[Did this asshole just throw a sword? Saul is sure whatever is about to happen is impressive and aneurysm-inducing, but he misses it because he's too busy yelping and ducking for cover by curling into himself on the mat.

And when the sword lands next to him, he very nearly shrieks.

WHY THIS.]

[chore_boy]

[Meanwhile, Coby was in Calmsville USA, observing Saul as he had a spazmotronic fit. He reached down to pick up the sword by the handle, easily removing it from the ground.]

Sir, you missed it. I'm going to have to do it again.

[5055034455]

Please don't. Or — no, wait. Hold on.

[He stands, walks to the other side of the room, then presses his back to the wall.]

Okay. Go ahead.

I FORGOT HE'S BLIND

[chore_boy]

[Coby glowered at Saul from across the room.

Well, he glowered at a wooden statue 2 feet to the right of Saul.]

...Do you think I'm an idiot, sir?

BEST SUBJECT LINE

[5055034455]

[Coby. Bro. That is so not comforting.]

An idiot? No. Reckless? Yes.