Spotter [Dante and Cecil]

Dante sat on a workout bench, dawning his gym clothes. When he had heard there would be a social workout in the gym after hours, he jumped to the opportunity like a frog on a fly. His elbows rested on his knees, a protein shake in hand. He was focused on the instructor. Dante sniffed. He needed something to do. It had been nearly three months since arriving to Endymion. He had done nothing except go to the gym and work out. He had tried looking for a job, despite that the Barovia taxpayer pays more than enough for living expenses. He needed something to do a purpose. However that endeavor had failed on the account of his lack with certain...skills.

"Okay listen up." Dante's body not moving an inch, his eyes diverted to the man in question. The owner of the gym. It had been half an hour after closing and now it was time for Social Workout. "Alright here is what's going on. You are here today to gain a bond with pears, and come to a judgment free area. The goal here is for all of you to learn to establish healthy emotional bonds as well as healthy bodies, understand? You will be paired with a partner today. Luckily we have even numbers. You all will be working out with your partner, and joining in. During rest period, the time of which you rest during your workout, you two will ask questions about one another. Alright time for to pair you up..."

At the moment, Cecil was wondering why in the unholy hell he just signed up for this. Social contact was all well and good, as well as getting some goddamn exercise so he could be something close to in shape for once...which, come to think, was getting more important given the stuff going on now that he was a part of the Playhouse. But this? How was this the way to do it? This felt all kinds of wrong.
...stupid brain ghosts.
Stupid enthusiastic family.
...not stupid enthusiastic family, he loved them and honestly it was entirely understandable. That still didn't stop him cursing out Ankou, though.

Resisting the now incredibly powerful urge to plug in his earphones and quell the rising tension by shutting out everything he'd normally hear, he listens to the instructions and finding himself hoping to all god he's not about to have to pair off with someone on his own initiative.
This was turning out bad enough already, he didn't need to progress to full on train wreck.

"...you and you....and you and you....aaaand now you two." Dante had realized he had been paired with a rather weak looking Blonde. It didn't matter...he had his orders. Dante stood up and sternly walked up to him. "You and me partner, okay?" Being rather forceful with his actions, he urges the boy to begin bench pressing. "You start and I spot you. I ask questions." He sat the bar to the boy, spotting him. Inwardly, Dante hoped to have been paired with someone stronger, or at least older. He had a glimpse of the weakness of the youth, and it wasn't pretty.

While spotting the boy, Dante was probably lifting more than the boy was, being no surprise.
"What job do you do? What your favorite drink and food? Where you from? Have you been with woman?" Dante looked down at him, with his usual stern look.

...maybe talking to someone wouldn't have been so bad.
Cecil nods dumbly as he's ushered into things, visibly unsettled as he tries to gather his wits. It's only as the last question comes that his senses return and the scattered pieces of his mind come together, his arms momentarily failing him. He catches himself, but the intense look being sent bearing down on him is doing no favours whatsoever. "I...don't think firing rapid fire questions at people handling heavy equipment is a good idea? You, ay, ah...didn't stop to let me answer, any, of ah, those..." He swallows.
"...and why that last question? Why...you...I just met you. I don't even know your name. Why...I'm pretty sure you don't just ask someone that."

Cecil was uncomfortable.
It was obvious.

Dante pulled the heavy bar off of him. "My turn. You too weak. If hand to hand with an enemy you get squashed into iddy biddy cube. How can partake in the woman form if you too weak? Woman in Barovia would crush you, as they do us all." Dante scooched him away to lay down on the bench. He wrapped his fingers on the bar. "I do not require spotter." He began to bench the press the bar. Inhaling and exhaling with each and every rep. When he got his groove he began telling about himself. "I was soldier in Barovia. I was one of the best and lead my squad." He started to push the bar a little slower. "Then war happened and I fight. I kill many. I am survivor of Red Stain Year. I have insignia on shoulder. My entire team died. War ended, and I partake of Woman who crush me."

He pushed the bar in its place and got up, bringing on a good sweat. "Come. We punch punching bag." He hurries Cecil to the large red punching bag and holds on to it. "Do you go to a school? What do you learn?" For the most part, Dante ignores almost all signs of any opposition, and stares at Cecil expecting ansers, gripping the bag.

"Why do I have to 'partake'? Is it that ridiculous I might not want to?"
Cecil sent a pleading look to the instructor as he was shunted aside.
Any attempt at trying to get this under wraps was shot to hell as Cecil suddenly finds the man spilling his life story unprompted. On the one hand, he was learning stuff...on the other hand, it was rapidly becoming evident just how screwed he was.
Giving a resigned sigh, he moves to stand before the punching bag, and starts swinging.
His technique, as might be expected of someone never taught how to throw a punch, is awful.
Avoiding his gaze, Cecil just opts to force out the answers. "The new academy that just opened up. Teach us varying things of inconsistent usefulness."

"School for me was difficult. I found out that most schools don't train kids how to fight like mine did. We learned advanced math, advanced Science, mechanics. The Iron Sword Academy required that absolute most out of all of us." Dante watched Cecil put on punches against the bag." You fight like kitty cat. Come. I teach you how to fight. If someone tries to harm you, you must know how to defend yourself. You cannot always rely on a weapon. Sometimes, enemy surprise when you are most off guard." Dante looked up and down his body. His form was off. That was the start. "I teach you basics." Dante took his shoulders and slightly tilted them to where his left was more facing the bag, assuming he was right handed. He knelt down and moved his feet to where they are a bit more spread apart. "When against an enemy, you must punch with shoulders. When throwing a punch, move your shoulders with it, to add force, and to prevent arm throwing out. And while throwing a punch, move your foot along with it." Dante demonstrated for him, continuously punching the bag, while replicating what he had told Cecil." Now you go."

Alright, one thing to be the gruff soldier man, but to be trained up from childhood to be that way sounded rough. Seriously, Iron Sword Academy? That wasn't half a name if he'd ever heard one, and it definitely spoke to its purpose.
Was he like this back then too?
...maybe he should back up a little.

Cecil rolled his eyes at the running commentary, but didn't comment this time. He was at least trying...for some reason. And even if the guy didn't know he had a giant fuckoff sword on call, it was too big to be used all the time even if pulling it out in broad daylight wasn't going to call down Cadets on his ass faster than you could say 'FUCK MY LIFE'.
Besides - this was good stuff to know anyway.
Cecil tries not to be too uncomfortable as the man starts adjusting his posture, and nods along with the instruction. Watching closely as he shows him how it's done, he remembers what he was told and attempts it himself, trying to do as he had been shown and told. He continues like this, fully assuming that after what he'd seen already, the soldier standing by him would be more than happy to pull him up on his mistakes without prompting.

Dante watched the young Cecile strike the punching bag. He smiled and nodded his head in satisfaction. "Good! You will be beating people in no time! You just need strength to hit harder. And you need to train to hit faster. We train there." Dante pointed to the boxing ring at the center of the large gym. He pulled Cecil to the rack and put on boxing gloves, ignoring any protest there may or may not be. The last time Dante had done this was when he was fighting one of his fellow survivals to train before their discharge. The last he heard he had committed suicide.

"Come! Hit me with all your strength. I teach you how to fight! Give me your best shots." Dante took a defensive position while shuffling around the room. He had no intention of going on the offensive. Dante tensed his muscles waiting for a strike. It was best to not underestimate him, less he would feel any of Cecil's possible hidden strength.

Huh? He was...happy with this? He would have assumed he'd at least have some whoa whoa wait what's going on here
Oh fuck. Oh fuck no. He did not what to get into the ring with this guy. Of all the people to be in there with, this guy was not one of them.
...and yet, he had to do this to learn anything.
He put on the gloves, stepped in the ring, and hoped to god he'd come out in one piece.

So...hit him as hard as he could. Alright then...
Following the technique he'd been so recently taught, Cecil struck toward Dante. He wasn't amazingly strong or anything, but...it wasn't a weak blow he was sending Dante's way either.

Dante saw it coming. He may have been able to cover a brace, but that was arguable due to the speed of the blow, there was a chance that even his military training would not be able to defend. But it wasn't a chance he was going to take anyway. Still hopping around, shuffling, Cecil's boxing glove covered fist shot straight towards Dante. Smiling, Dante deliberately lowered his guard, his fists leveled with his chest. It was to see what he was made of. And he was made of a lot. Dante took the full frontal of the fist that connected to the side of his cheek. He fell to the mat of the ring, his back bouncing. Stars swirled around his eyes. Dante was hit so hard, he briefly forgot what he had been doing.

He got up to his feet, clenching his jaw, it hurt because of the blow, and what made it hurt worst was that he couldn't stop smiling. "Yes! You have strength! You are powerful!" He pat Cecil on the shoulder, feeling good for the boy. His jaw and cheek continued to hurt his smile was wide.

"Okay time is up. Hope you all had a little fun. Got to know each other. Next time, we will go and do some group work."

Dante, his cheek still a little bruised and swollen, turned to Cecil. "Come. I walk you home."

For a moment, Cecil was just stuck in shock at what had just happened, staring as the man picked himself up. He knew full well that the whole thing had been allowed to happen, and that had the guy actually been trying he could have handed his ass to him in short order, but holy shit he just punched the guy to the floor.
He only snapped out of it at the pat on the shoulder, nodding dumbly. "I...guess I am, huh...?" He...might actually have to make a point of doing something there.

And then, things were over. It felt like it had run by quickly.
Really, he should have been more wary of the offer, but he doubted the guy could hide any malicious intentions if he tried. And that aside, he...wasn't exactly normal himself.
He could probably figure something out if something happened. He couldn't go full Psyche Terrorist on him without it causing problems, but he could at least try and do something if he needed to.
"Alright...at least part of the way. Forgive me if I don't think letting someone you just met know where you live is good general practice."

"Understood." From there, Dante would walk Cecil halfway way, speaking of stories of his time in the Military, some more gruesome than most, from his telling of him executing a command in officer for attempt of AWOL, to playing poker every night with his unit to keep each other sane.

When he got home, and parted ways with Cecil, Dante felt empty once again. Tonight was fun for him, but he lost his sense of fun. He began to think about his old lifestyle. His old way of combat. He had known nothing but fighting all his life. It was mentally taxing, and trying to get into a civilian, on top of one that is different from his own in a different country, was causing him stress. Held out his arms and dropped to his hands going into a pushup. Exercise usually clears his mind

[Exit]

Cecil listened along...though as Dante cycled through topics, it became increasingly apparent that either Dante had no filter, or he just didn't have any remote clue of what made an appropriate topic for casual conversation. Most people, after all, didn't talk to a stranger about the time they had to execute someone.

After the parted ways, Cecil spent his time pondering what kind of shitty life it takes for a person to turn out that way. He had his own problems, but...Dante's kinda seemed worse, in some ways.
His education was driven hard down the path of fighting, killing and all that stuff. He didn't seem to know much outside of that, really.
Hell, his social skills seemed worse than his own, and that was saying something.

...he hoped that the Cadet programme and all the emphasis on it wasn't doing the same to people.
Bad enough trying to make soldiers for a regime they didn't know the depravity in of everyone without stunting them in the process too.