2017-11-28 - When Dragons Meet

The front door swings, heralding soft footsteps as a tall man beneath a soft white bucket hat makes his way into the gym belonging to Ted's peer from down the way. Richard's hands are in his pockets as he surveys the place for a long moment before making his way to the ring with upraised ginger brows and an 'mmhmm'.

On the roof of Grant's Gym, there is a skylight. A specially installed one, it is set up specifically for entry by a certain type of person. It even has a small bat symbol on a corner just for artistic license, but it's the way that Cassandra Cain has chosen to enter. She doesn't actually like doors anyway, so it works our for everyone.

In her basic jeans and t-shirt, winter doesn't seem to touch her. The fact that she's dangling from the ceiling beam upside-down is just for showing off. She's looking for Ted, having heard a story or two on the street.

Okay, maybe from Carrie. Girl has no inner monologue to speak of. So she waits for Ted to notice her. Or not, not is good too. It means pranks are acceptable. Ooh, that's not Ted.

Ted Grant is sitting by the ring, which needs a really good clean up, preferably by the guys who do crime scenes. Ted is not at his sharpest right now. In spite of his bandages, he is enjoying a bottle of Sam Adams. He gives a small wince as the alcohol hits the fresh cuts in his mouth. Of course Richard is not being stealthy and gets an almost surly greeting and small smile, "Dragon. Your girl pal told me fuck myself. I wasn't worth the time she'd take to kill. I told her I would try to be a bigger prick to be a more enticing target. We had a good laugh actually ... so I went to the Iceberg Lounge and shook down Cobblepot ...

"I got Bane's number. He was more obliging." Ted turns around showing what a mess he is. He is still smiling.

At this moment Ted is not looking his best. His nose was broken and is bandaged and set. Both eyes are spectacularly blackened (Wildcoon?). His torso has been wrapped suggesting bruised or broken ribs and his hands are heavily bandaged.

A set of huge bracers are on his arms.

So hanging upside-down in a t-shirt is a bit more interesting for a girl. Even one in the shape that Cassandra is, and she's not keeping it tight or belted into her waist. So the fact that she has zero body modesty is evident. And somehow nobody is looking up.

Still, she gets to watch these two fighters (clearly both warriors) size each other up with a eagle's eye view. She actually stops breathing so she won't intrude yet. It's a rare opportunity to learn. Richard Dragon snorts quietly at the commentary about his old time peer, then folds his arms casually and quips,"You could have asked, and I would have warned you about that. She thinks the western arts are beneath her. Don't stress over it though, she's barely spoken to me since I refused to stay dead for her."

Richard then looks to the back room and inquires,"Mind if I inquire about what you have on chill?"

Ted Grant gets up. It's a credit he does it in one try (one and a half maybe). He says, "I got Sammies, I got iced espresso, I got ice tea, and I got water. What's your ... " Ted abruptly looks up and sees Cassandra. "Richard we apparently got an audience. No more fighting tonight sweetie. You missed the big fight. Don't you see all the blood around that Bane shaped clean spot? The Dragon and I are likely getting a little hammered together. Well I am anyway. Richard has probably transcended mere beer."

A slight pout as she sees the truth in Ted's statement, and the asian girl in the rafters lets go, to fall to the ground with her usual grace. As in, enough to make a ballerina stare in awe. She slithers to her feet almost lazily, then looks Ted over with a stare that sees right through him. Probably does too, knowing her proclivities.

Then she just turns and looks at Richard, as if acnowledging him. Politeness, this is new.

Richard Dragon is simply here. If his hands were out, an ordinary soul might have a clue about the nature of this man, but he didn't even bother bringing his trademark bomber jacket this visit. Purely a housecall, evidently. He smiles easily at the pint sized prodigy, though his eyes are always guaging. At a certain point, it's impossible to actually soften the hardness or shorten the miles. He offers verbally,"Well done. I wasn't sure anyone was up there."

Richard then looks back to Ted and inquires,"So is Bane all that I've heard?" Ted Grant looks at the dismount and holds up nine fingers. One finger is not so responsive it seems. "Do you guys know each other?" He gets another beer out for himself and a bottle opener. He could use his teeth to show off but tonight he feels like he'd be spitting them teeth out.

Ted considers the remark as he opens another bottle for his friend. "He's ... a younger me with no morals and twice the weight and reach. You see me right now? Well the only things I could do to phase him were throws and that west strike you taught me which likely saved my life. I took a pounding, got thrown into the ropes, stretched them and used the momentum to finally hit him hard enough to knock him over and jammed his jugular with my foot. I won. You see what he did to me. I think he ... bit his mouth. But I won. I fucking won."

Ted takes a deep breath and says, "But most important ... my ghosts are gone. I'm back to living in the moment. I was ready to die, I thought. Ironically it gave me the edge initially." The young lady beams at the compliment. she's got some idea how much it takes to get one out of this guy. Some, but not all, which is impressive in itself. He's very self-contained. But she's a phenomenon, so...there's some give and take going on in their little battle. She's trying to see something in his movements...and he's keeping it inside.

So when she looks at Ted, she actually speaks. "Not sure," she says, purely honest. Like always. Then she listens to the explanation, and nods. Makes sense, apparently. However, seeing the fight as Ted re-lives it with words, she sees it in his body. The tension when he explains the moves, she can see it clearly.

And watching her watch Ted is something interesting as well, for the Dragon. It's like watching Shiva.

Richard Dragon finds it impossible not to see the familial resemblance, though he knows nothing about her having not been formally introduced at any point. Then there's the fact he never crossed paths with her father. He doesn't comment on any of that here though.

Richard eventually asks,"I could go for iced coffee. Live dangerously and such. You might consider slowing down on the alcohol though. It's a depressant."

Richard notes that for what he's just heard of what Ted was going through. He then thinks on something for a moment, and continues,"As for Bane, I never met the man. I've heard of him though. He killed a contemporary of my old teacher, a hero named Judomaster who made a name for himself as a martial artist after World War 2. Sergeant Ripp, if memory serves. He'd learned an old mystical method for slowing aging, I suspect it was a blend of chi and meditation but I don't know for certain."

Maybe it's the pain or his brain is still a little loose but Ted opens yet another bottle of beer making that even odds for the little group. Maybe he's just looking to toast his win. Ted realizes his mistake finally and sets the opener down. "Oops. Old habits die hard. I'll just dump them. Iced coffee it is. Yeeeeah. He put up the Bat's mask, Judo Master's Belt and his bracers. In the end I took the Bat's mask since he is a friend but wouldn't bother to take the time with such a thing. Judo Master's belt I wouldn't take. Let the legacy get it back. It ... wasn't my place. Cassandra I have a bottle of that juice I think you liked." Ted puts up a bottle labeled in Kanji. Then he goes to sit down heavily. "I'm sorry ... manners. Cass ... Dragon. Dragon ... Cass."

The girl squeezes Ted's hand gently. It's not much, but for her...it's a volume. She knows he's hurt, and she's clearly being very careful not to touch anything that's broken. She reaches and touches the bottle of Ted's, and shakes her head. Then adds, so he can understand, "You are...not the same. Drink, it is alright." Looking deep into his eyes, she smiles a little. Tenderness that never touched Shiva's face, for this old man. Respect.

Besides, she's never met Bane.

Richard Dragon quirks a ginger brow at him and folds his arms. His gaze is analytical as he seems to adopt a byzantine level of thoughtfulness. He eventually comments from beneath his bucket hat, the brim seeming to confer an inordinate amount of shade over his eyes and features generally,"Life is a stream with spiralling eddies, carrying us hither and to along whims beyond our ken or grasp. Shores far and near are all equally probable, and our only guarantee is to not long languish at any one port though it may seem otherwise."

Richard's words are to noone in particular, his voice distant with meditative thought. When his moment passes, he finally extends a hand for the coffee.

Ted Grant says, "That's what I said."

Words. Babble, but Cassandra has come to the conclusion in the last while that maybe, just maybe, some of the people using them might not be wasting her time. So she's taking in the concepts better, and it's just possible that philosophy might be out of her current mental range. She looks from Ted over to Richard, not really sure what exactly she's listening to and letting it show on her features.

Richard Dragon sips his drink and knits his brow a touch further as he eyes Cassandra from around the edge of the bottle. He then reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a wallet. His, to be specific. He pulls out an old photo, stepping over to Ted with it.

The photo is a relic of better days. A young Richard, Ben Turner, and Shiva Woosan all in company. He shows it to Ted, glancing again at Cass. Gears are turning. There might be a touch of smoke in the air.

Ted puts his hand on Cassandra's and says, "I decided it is all right for me to be happy. It's that simple though it took fighting freaking Bane to make me realize it. I found my ... center. This is a good thing ... eh? Hmmmm. Oh. Let me see better, my eyes are still not working right. Cassandra, look this way ..." Ted gently tries to move Cassandra's head to look up more, ready to back off if she doesn't want to oblige. He's pretty sure she'd even ate and probably has mastered an Oriental technique to turn her saliva venomous. "Huh. Definite resemblance. Hey ... you got right here your beautiful lethal Asian woman, Richard Dragon ... and a cat themed martial artist. Do you think fate may be trying to tell us something? Or You Dragon? Because you never speak directly when you can be inscrutable."

Cassandra Cain obliges. She knows what he's trying to do; some things are announced by body language just fine, and this fits the bill nicely so she's not wondering or uncertain. But it's doubtful that either of them knows, so she just plays the good little girl for the moment.

Then without looking at the picture at all, she looks at Richard right in the eyes and nods. One time, firmly. Yes.

Richard Dragon squints briefly as he regards Cass, then slowly and inexhorably begins to saucer eye, then just boggle.

When the moment passes, Richard clears his thoat and endeavors to explain for the one out of the loop."Ok. See...that's Ben Turner. You might've heard of him as the Bronze Tiger. He ran with the Suicide Squad for a while after a bad patch with the League of Assassins. Long story there, and pretty tragic for both of us. The lady, that's Shiva. My hunch is, Cass's mother."

Cassandra sees that Ted is dropping off, and catches him as he's about to hit the floor. She's quick, that much is easy to see. And strong, he only bounces once. Then she's laying him out and motioning to Dragon to get the man a pillow and blanket, stat. Somehow she manages to get that across with a motion and a glance.

Richard Dragon is already on it, suspecting rightly that the man lives out of his school much like himself. He'll set Ted up rightly to sleep off his grogginess, then comment with a smirk,"I should introduce him to sake sometime. If he's going to drink, he should have taste."

Cassandra makes a moue face as Dragon mentions sake, showing her opinion of the stuff. Clearly not her personal choice of drink, though if she's living in America she probably drinks energy drinks and lives off of pop tarts anyway. Fruit loops and beer. But the girl's frame and motions send that thought out the window: this young lady who's straightening up as she watches Ted rest is not fueled on crap. She's a monster in tight jeans.

Richard Dragon is the creepy combination of lankiness and ripped muscle that comes from an obsession with clean living and strict discipline. Fish and rice are this man's staples. He grins and replies to her expression,"It's not /that/ bad."

Richard then slips up into the ring with the grace of an accomplished parkour practitioner now that Ted's tended to. He's inspecting the damage from the fight to satisfy curiosity since apparently it wasn't yet cleaned.

Any other fighter in the world might have mistaken Richard's move for something else. Anyone, but Cassandra knows what he's doing. It's creepy how she watches him, not moving to help or to comment. Actually over time, she's slowly becoming less expressive to his vision. On purpose, she's testing small things to see if she can ...she's mimicking him! His ability to keep his self centred and internal. And becoming less and less readable as she internalizes it. Girl isn't wasting time at all.

Dragon scuffs his shoe on purpose on the ring floor, then doffs them both as he clears his throat. It has been a minute since he was last in an actual ring. He monologues for the uncaring and scant audience,"Nineteen eighty seven. That was the last time I actually fought in a real ring. There was more blood than this, but Leopard technique isn't as pretty as it is quick. Your mother taught it to me in return for breaking her nose."

Richard chuckles at that, then adds,"I don't teach that style, myself though. There's a couple I don't, but it's at the top of the list."

Richard then gets a slight twinkle to his eye as he considers something. Both of his brows go up as he explains,"One simple one that I do is called Mi Zong. A shaolin method for tricking your opponent."

That's an offer. She sees it, and that kind of thing involves payment. So she gives him something as well, since she's been taking and it's probably rude. He doesn't ACT like she's doing anything wrong; in fact, so far he's been downright supportive of her growth. So she gives something unmistakeable: a secret.

Cassandra Cain walks up to the ring, then steps inside. Anyone else would think it nothing, but the way she did it, was exactly the way that the old man himself, Bronze Tiger, moved. When he was a few years younger, and a bit faster.

Doesn't talk much, so that's also important. It's all about the motions; she's probably on her mother's level of reading them. In reality, she's better.

Richard Dragon observes this keenly. Ben was his best friend, back in those better days. He knows his moves better than anyone, so it's impossible to mistake them when he sees them. He's wondering how much he's missed out on at this point. Too many secrets in his world.

Richard doesn't dwell on it for long. He's made an offer, and means to deliver it. He takes up the beginning movements without delay. The opennning salute signifying the start of a form. The first time, since he knows this to be an advanced practitioner, he delivers at double speed so as not to waste time.

Richard explains as he moves, being able to flawlessly walk and chew bubble gum at the same time,"The essence of Mi Zong, is to exploit habit. Your opponent expects you to be lead from the right, so you attack from the left. Where you should advance, you attack while withdrawing. You pull them out of position and destroy expectation."

Watching. With those eyes, those penetrating eyes, Cassandra waits for him to finish. Her body is so still she almost seems dead, but for those eyes. Then a nod, and she does something it's unlikely that anyone has ever done for Richard. She masters it, going into the moves immediately without needing to be shown again. And by the end of the form, she's got it. Both a credit to the level of his teaching, and to her mind.

Because she steps out of the form and is using it already, and using it well. Chew bubble gum and talk, indeed.

Richard Dragon has a shadow of a smirk as he observes her routine. He himself doesn't have so still a posture. It almost looks lazy. He's casual yet aware at the same time. He nods approvingly at the conclusion, and explains,"There is much more, but that was the centerpiece of the style. Likely Connor could help you if you needed it, he no doubt studied it at the same place I did. We are both Shaolin students, after all."

With that, Richard slips from the ring. He takes a moment to fix his hat as he looks back, then offers,"Please let Ted know to expect me by tomorrow. I'll have something for that rib he thinks I didn't notice."

Cassandra Cain looks at Richard as he goes to leave. Whether or not she's going to tell Ted anything is yet to be established, since she's doing her 'watch everything' routine. Then, all of the sudden and without the slightest warning, she grins and bounces and goes, "Okay!" And hops like a bunny to the ring's edge, letting her heels test the canvas in that hyper-annoying fashion that teenagers seem to adore.

Richard Dragon arches a brow sky high at that transition, then simply turns to depart without further ado.

But an eye turns to watch as he leaves. Little Cassandra doesn't miss much, it seems. And has taken the tenets of the new style to heart.