Description: Feeling the need to recenter after a disappointing loss in the FightFest '23 tournament, Coco and Captain Morgan decide to take the afternoon off for a yoga class with a certain famous yogi. Djamila soon joins, along with the object of Coco's fickle ire, who seems more intent on observation and commentary than participation - leading to a rather rowdy session of meditative stretching.
It's the middle of the second week's round of the New Fighting Generation tournament at FightFest '23. For Coco, after a loss to a certain fiery Irish fighter early in the week, it's now a long few days to stew in her defeat. Without a future in the tournament proper to look forward to, she should be celebrating the fact that she's now locked into nearly a month of paid expenses at the Southtown Hotel with no impending pressure to perform except for the optional bonus rounds. She's basically on vacation.
The problem is, she's suddenly found herself caring about whether she wins or loses, and unfortunately, it applies retroactively. It's absolutely dreadful.
So, she finds herself in the studio of the Hotel Southtown gym, participating in an open yoga class being held by a famous yogi for the NFG's prospects. She's wearing a tight-fitting top and yoga pants for the occasion, her feet bare, and presently balancing on her hands as if they were feet, face pointed at the mat beneath her, hips raised at an angle behind her and knees folded up to her chest, feet straightened into a line with her shins. The instructor had called it some kind of bird - was it crane or crow? In any case, the pose is turning out to be quite a strain on her arms, but she does her best to keep her focus on the meditative music, and not think about the stupid cheating Irishman who had the nerve to knock her out of the competition with her own fan's sign.
The fact that she'd even had a sign made by a fan was enough to make her realise that this whole thing was more of an investment than she'd planned for. If someone else cared enough to show their support with a wooden sign at her second ever professional fight, maybe she should care about it too.
Beside her, meanwhile, a bearcat on the mat is striking the exact same pose that Coco is, albeit with the addition of a long furry tail sticking out behind it. Coco is so caught up that she hasn't even noticed Captain Morgan's imitational antics.
And in to the Hotel Southtown's gym and fitness suite walks...a certain fiery Irish fighter! What are the chances? Strolling in to the room hosting the fitness equipment, as if he hasn't got a care in the world, Hawksley Moore looks around for any signs of familiar faces. He's dressed simply in a pair of light grey gym shorts, with a plain white cotton vest top and white running shoes.
The plan is to try and sweat off some of the drinks he indulged in last night. He might have got his fight with Coco under his belt, but he's aware he'll have another feisty female to face off with in the semi-finals, in the form of either Djamila or Sarah, so he'll have to stay match fit!
Seeing nobody he recognises, Hawksley opts to begin his work out on one of the stationary bikes, inserting his chrome water bottle into the slot provided. Adjusting the setting to a slight incline, he starts to peddle away, working his strong legs in a rhythmic fashion.
He's been doing this consistently for a few minutes, when he happens to look up and through the glass that gives visiblity to the fitness studio where classes are held. From what he can make out, there seems to be a yoga session taking place. His dark eyes shift along the line of cute butts in tight pants on display, appreciating the view and then stopping on a particularly pert posterior, whose owner has a perky purple ponytail.
He can't help but smile at the sight. Silently watching for a few seconds, he then slips off the cycle and starts to walk towards the window, to get a closer view. It's then he spots that Captain Morgan is taking the class alongside Coco! It's just about the cutest and craziest sight he's ever seen. Suddenly getting an urge to do some stretching, he makes his way towards the studio and pushes the swinging door open.
Djamila gets inside the gym. She is wearing a pair of jeans legging, an orange t-shirt, an orange hair cover, and her usual blindfold over her eyes. She also has her staff, slash pole, and slash cane. Right now, she's using it to get to the yoga class. Something she is aware of. Once she's at the door, she opens it and starts walking. But at that point, she's no longer clicking her cane on the ground. She just moves to an empty mat. One would swear she could see. If it wasn't for the blindfold over her eyes.
Once she finds her empty mat, sets the staff before her and gets in the position as quickly as possible. If she is aware others from the tournament are here, she does not let on at the moment. She is simply and quietly following the movements of the instructor. She seems pretty flexible as it is, but as a stripper, you need to be.
As for whom is inside... what are the chance indeed.
With her mind free to wander, Coco contemplates the opportunity that the free yoga session represents. Some of the most famous yoga practicioners, such as the one teaching them, are known to use their powers to breathe fire, float in the air, and even stretch their limbs impossibly long distances. The funny thing is, a week ago, she would've been more interested in adding to the shapeliness of her arse than adding any of those tricks to her arsenal. It's a shame that the guy in charge didn't seem interested in being a sponsor for the event; maybe she could pay him to give her private sessions, where he could explain the road map to yoga ascension. How long does it take to do the stretchy legs, anyway? And what happens if they get stuck that way?
Coco cringes inwardly at the idea of permanent noodle-legs as Hawksley and Djamila come in, unaware of the presence of either.
"And now, let us move directly into Sirsasana. To begin..."
Following the instructions, Coco tucks her head forward and lowers her elbows onto the mat, raising her feet up once she's balancing on her purple-coloured crown into a headstand. The entire effort is quite an ordeal, and she can't help but grunt a couple of times before she manages to get into position. Beside her, Captain Morgan gets onto his head, but ends up flopping over the rest of the way onto his back. The little binturong seems content to lie in that pose for the time being.
The shift in position causes Coco's eyes to end up facing toward Djamila once she's ended up upside down, and she says, "Oh, hey, it's you -" before noticing on the other side of Djamila's legs that Hawksley has also arrived and has a full view of her stretched-out body.
"-oh, for -"
She gives the Irishman a little glare and pouts her lips with displeasure as her heart starts to thump harder. Then, she forces on a smile and pleasant tone.
"Hello, Djamila," she greets the Iraqi fighter, before complimenting, "Not surprised you're good at this."
Hot on Hawksley's heels is Djamila, one of his potential opponents in the next round of the tournament. He hasn't encountered her socially, but she is pretty unmistakable with her exotic beauty and the blindfold covering her eyes.
Speaking in his best hushed tones, the Irishman greets the woman from Iraq "It's grand to meet you, Djamila. I hope you didn't take my interview to heart. It was nothing personal, so it wasn't."
Excuse given, he turns his gaze to greet Coco with a brilliant beaming smile. "Alright there, Pops? Looks like you're nailing that technique."
Spotting a vacant mat, he plants his posterior down on it, before starting to look around somewhat helplessly. He's never done a yoga class before and has no idea how to get himself into the complex looking positions that are being performed.
When Hawksley speaks to her and apologizes about his interview, she recognizes him and has to answer. "Hello Mister Hawksley. I didn't take it to heart. Strippers are intimidating. Just don't take it to heart when I win our match in round 3." It's meant to be teasing, but people have trouble understanding that with her tone. Besides they have no eyes to see any kind of winks or such with her. Either way, she's pretty confident seeing she didn't even have a round 2 match yet.
Then after she is in position, she hears another voice. She takes it in, then when she realizes it's Coco, she says. "Hello, Coco. Thank you. I heard you had a great match against Mister Hawksley. Sorry, you lost. I will kick his shapely muscular rear for you." As she speaks, she does the position. Her legs are her bests asset, after all. At least that's what she thinks, so she keeps them toned.
Then the next pose comes Upavistha Konasana. Though the teacher does tell people if they can't do the full split, they shouldn't push it. What is important is their kneecaps pointing toward the ceiling.
"Funny, Lucky, I was just starting to feel like I've got a real pain in the neck coming on," Coco stage whispers at Hawksley with a vaguely accusatory tone as she strains to maintain her balance on her head and keep her legs and hips from giving into their want to wobble. "I'm not a massive fan of 'Pops,' either. Sounds as though you're calling me your dad."
"Doesn't look as though you've dressed for yoga, Lucky. Let me guess, you just happened to have a look in and decided you wanted a closer vantage? Or did you just come here to gloat?"
Letting her legs and hips roll down to the mat, she uses her hands and elbowsto take the work of keeping her body upright away from her head, eventually ending up facing away from Hawksley and toward Djamila, her legs stretching out to either side of her as she lowers her upper body to flatten against the mat, knees pointed toward the ceiling. She stretches both hands to grasp the outside of her feet as her chest and chin touch the ground.
It's probably quite the view, from Hawksley's angle, and a faint flush enters Coco's cheeks as she becomes self-conscious. Then again, with Djamila doing a more practiced version of the pose directly in front of her, if Hawksley isn't down on the floor himself, he might not be paying attention to Coco, anyway.
"Then again, maybe you just thought you saw your girlfriend again," she comments to the floor loud enough for Hawksley to hear.
"I don't find strippers intimidating as a rule. I've known enough of them and been friendly enough. I just had a bad experience with one in particular, which is what caused me to make the comment." Hawksley explains to Djamila.
His dark eyebrows shoot up as she makes her declaration of confidence, but he seems more amused than angry. "Well, if you believe in yourself, you've always got one person on your side. At least you didn't ask me to go easy on you, like this one did."
He gestures towards the bendy British babe with a tilt of his head. "I had clear instructions to avoid her face. As you probably noticed, I don't like being told what to do."
He struggles to get his 'shapely muscular rear' into the position demonstrated by the yoga instructor, furrowing his brow as he can't seem to keep his balance. His gaze passes between Coco and Djamila, hoping to pick up some tips from what they are doing.
"Maybe all this stretching will help with that neck pain, Pops" he responds chirpily, biting down on his lip in concentration as he tries to mimic the moves of the two female fighters. Apparently he's ignoring the information that she doesn't like her new nickname.
"You've got me bang to rights as it happens. I was gonna hit the gym hard and heavy, when I spotted something interesting going on in here. I thought I'd come and check it out. I'm not one for gloating though, so I'm not. That malarky can come back to haunt you at a later date, so I just accept my victories when they come."
"So how are you enjoying the competition so far, Djamila?" he wonders, whilst letting his eyes wander between the two beat 'em up beauties, fixing them on Coco, as she makes her cheeky comment.
"It's a hard to tell you apart" he claims. "Since I've given you both a good seeing to."
She gets into positions and really stretches her legs and her body overall, before she answers again. She doesn't seem to be bothered much by anything right now, or she's keeping it inside. Either way, she enjoys the yoga. Gotta keep that body flexible, just like the mind.
She then finally starts answering Hawksley. "I would never ask anyone to go easy on me. How will I learn otherwise, yeah? I am blind, not deficient." She stresses a little more and then keeps the pose. "You can hit me in the face if you can find it. Do whatever you have to do to win, so when you lose, you can't say you should have done that instead. Do it all in our match." She keeps the pause, and she almost seems to relax in it, waiting for the teacher to eb ready to switch. She's also giving quite the view, but she's used to people looking at her.
Coco's scowl at Hawksley mentioning her request for mercy from before their fight to Djamila is unseen by the Irishman, given her present posture, but she makes her annoyance known, snapping, "Some of us care about our appearance, Lucky. Do you have any idea the kind of hell I'd catch on the web if my mates all found a load of pics of me online with a broken nose? I bet your mates would cheer you on. Mine would turn me into a social media freakshow." Her face flushes ever redder at the embarrassment, both at the thought and at the fact that her seeming cowardliness is now being bantered about in a gym class hosted by a famous fighter.
When Hawksley makes his remark about giving her a good seeing to, Coco's shade of pink deepens even more dramatically.
"I wonder which one of us enjoyed it less," she comments as she follows the instructor's bidding to transition to a seated side stretch pose, reaching for one foot with both arms and shooting a scathing sidelong look behind her to Hawksley as her arms conceal her blushing cheeks. "My money is on her."
She turns her eyes to the other side, regarding Djamila.
"So, have you done a lot of this sort of thing before, Djamila? I was wondering when you start learning how to breathe fire and such. Is it before or after the stretchy legs?"
"That's the spirit" the Eire man encourages the exotic dancer. "I'm hoping to learn a few tricks myself, with this New Fighting Generation."
"I'm not one for having regrets either. I'll give it all I've got, be it against you or the Mancunian lass and we'll see how it goes."
He's still trying to master even the most basic yoga stance, but it's not something that's coming naturally to the man. "I think I'll just sit here and watch the show" he decides. "I mean, have a little rest." His decision earns him a suspicious look from the instructor leading the class, but apparently he's too polite to comment verbally, as he lets Hawksley's lack of participation slide for the moment.
"Your mates sound pretty shallow to me, if they'd give you hell for having a broken nose. What's the crime in it? You gave it your all in a brawl and took a bit of a beating. I'd rather get a pat on the back for it, than a snooty look and disgusted emoji."
"As for Tiff, I never got any complaints, so I didn't. That's one way you do differ. You never seem to stop whining on."
He throws a wink in her direction, in case she happens to be looking his way.
Djamila listens to Coco and Hawksley going at it verbally. She is either not very fond of him or has a secret crush on him. That's what she thinks anyway.
She changes position when the teacher requires it, still listening to the banter. When questions are asked of her, then she speaks. "Oh, I don't think it's just yoga. I am no expert. But like you need to have a good body and a good mind. Both at peace, then it comes to you. Doubt is your biggest enemy or something." She lets Coco know, though Hawksley can hear her as well.
She pauses as the teacher now asks for Bhujangasana. She moves slowly until she ends up on her stomach, then she lifts her chest. She's doing the low cobra version. She doesn't go as high as some of the others who use their hand, but she believes it version gives you more back strength.
When Hawksley talks about he is ready to give it all he has, whoever he faces, she is aware she did not win against Sarah yet. "That's the spirit. I visualize myself already winning my fights. If I don't believe in myself, then why should anyone else do so?" She pushes herself a little more, then tells Coco "You know if you are a fighter, your beauty will be your muscles and your battle scars, ot your perfect proportion or unbroken nose. That's my take on it. But I am not you, so do as you will."6
"You don't know my mates," is all the defense that Coco can bring herself to muster for the 'mates' in question - not really anyone she really considers a friend, but they at least have things in common, like having all gone to the same private school, being cute and popular, and all pretending to be vegetarians when going out but secretly loving meat the rest of the week. All of those mates had also made loads of comments on FightTube about how hot Hawksley was after their match. Not that that was something she had in common with them.
"Well, she didn't stick around after you walloped that patron, did she? Maybe she was just waiting for the excuse," Coco fires back, becoming a little more venomous as Hawksley retaliates for her previous comment. "And I don't whinge. Or go on about what people might have said when they were plastered to try and make them look bad."
She stretches out into the cobra position along with the other yoga students, arching her back and neck and stretching out her toes, closing her eyes and trying to ignore the fact that she's aware Hawksley has given up on actually participating and is now probably openly ogling her. Or maybe he isn't. She doesn't care either way, certainly.
"Well, I didn't sign up expecting to get a load of scars. In fact, I didn't even care if I did well or not when I signed up. I mean, maybe I still wouldn't, if it weren't for certain people being rude."
Awakening from his brief power nap, Captain Morgan rolls over and spots Hawksley. He runs over to the rough-cut Irishman, jumping up with his foreclaws to latch onto his tank and defending his mistress' honour... by snuffling affectionately at the man's chest before playfully bouncing against him with his paws.
"That's it, Morgie. Go for the eyes," Coco commands without looking.
"One of the lads at my da's gym is into all that visualisation stuff" Hawksley responds to Djamila. "He reckons it works wonders in his boxing bouts."
He listens as she gives her take on beauty to Coco, finding himself nodding along. "She ain't wrong you know. Do you think I'd think you were any less cute, with a few breaks, blemishes and bruises?" he questions Coco.
"You're a lovely looking lass, but you're also a right laugh and good company when you're not complaining. Captain Morgan agrees, don't you fella?" he checks with the bearcat.
Letting himself lay down on his mat, he lets out a contented sigh, only stirring when he's snuffled and snuggled by his furry friend. "See. He's totally on my side, so he is." A slow smile spreads across his face, as he reaches his hand out to pet Morgie.
"We'll accept you scars and all. If you're so called mates won't, screw them. They can all feck right off." His tone is more fierce as he thinks of the party girl's fair weather friends, causing the yogi to flash him a look of warning.
He lowers his tone, leaning closer to his fellow fighters so they can hear him clearly. "Tiff did what she needed to do. She had to keep her job, so she did. I was kinda tainted goods after what I did and her boss wouldn't have been too happy if she'd kept hanging around with me. I was pretty broken up at the time, but I'm grand now. I'm glad it happened, to be sure. If it hadn't, I'd never have taken a chance on coming here."
As he speaks, he realises for the first time, that he's at peace with his break-up with the beautiful lapdancer.
It rubs Djamila a little the wrong way when Coco said she didn't even care if she did well or not, and probably not even now if Hawksley wasn't Hawksley. "If you don't care if you do well or not, you are not good enough, you will never be good enough." She says as a matter of fact. This is starting to sound a little similar to what she told Ichika. "No offense, but ratings won't push you to victory when all hope is lost. It even seems those people are keeping you down." She continues to follow yoga. Then she adds. "It's all about seeing yourself win in your head, and if you lose, you get back up, and you know next time you will push a little further. Because when you're beaten down, it's only so you can push higher next time." She seems a little passionate about this. The teacher has to look at her, to remain her to keep her tone down. Though she can't see him, so...
All in all it seems that tournament is to prove something to herself.
"Yeah, well, maybe -I- don't want to get /disfigured/!" Coco says in a hushed shout to the bloke behind her, looking over her shoulder with narrowed eyes as the muscles along her back and bottom go visibly tight with the rising tension from her discourse with Djamila and Hawksley. "And if you don't like hanging about me when I'm complaining, then you can either stop being such a pain in my ass, or -do one-!"
The yogi at the front of the class clears his throat in consternation, glowering now at the three near the back who are continuing to disrupt the room with their discussion. Several of the other students have been surreptitiously looking in the direction of the trio.
"Sorry," Coco calls out in a hush.
"And now transition to Downward Dog," the instructor commands, pointedly ignoring Coco, "and we'll finish with the second half of the Sun Cycle."
Coco draws a deep breath in through her nostrils as she realises what's about to be expected of her and what that means if Hawksley is still looking her way. "Well, maybe I -do- care a little now, but I'm not going to kill myself chasing the win," Coco tells the other two New Generation fighters as she lifts her tailbone into the air, bending into an inverted V as she assumes the downward dog position. Upside down, she opens her eyes and looks to meet Hawksley's gaze. If he's looking her way, she'll stick her tongue out at him. Either way, she'll add, "Here you go, Hawksley. I'm sure you can do this one. All you have to do is make like a dog. Should come naturally."
Spotting a new ramp to play on, Captain Morgan runs off of Hawksley and scampers up Coco's legs, crawling over the peak of Mount Coco before skidding down the other side, his claws becoming entangled in her tank top as he tries to arrest his descent and pulling it down with him to reveal most of her back.
"Ah! Morgie, you traitor!" Coco rasps.
Hawksley can't help but chuckle. The more irate the purple haired party girl gets, the more the Irishman enjoys himself. "I'm planning to stay right here" he informs her. "I'm feeling wonderfully relaxed and enjoying the scenery."
He gives a friendly little wave to the man leading the session, which causes him to look confused in response. "I reckon I can do this dog thing" he decides, pushing himself forwards into the position.
It's not a bad effort as it goes and he calls out to Coco "I think you're right, this does feel natural to me." He stretches out his strong body, enjoying the sensation and sneaking a peek at the bodacious booty in front of him. As he does, his eyes meet hers and he blows her a kiss in response to her teasing tongue, causing him to lose his balance and crash down loudly on the floor.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph" he laughs loudly. "This is a right craic, ain't it, Djamila?"
When it's time to do the downward dog, she moves slowly into position. There is no rush for her. It's not the fastest ship, it's the sturdiest one that makes it across the sea. Everything is well. In general, she's even having a good time. She feels like she can call those two friends. Not close or anything, but friends. a sense of camaraderie. Even when Hawksley laughs loudly because he fell. So when He asks her if it is craic, she has to answer him. "Yeah, it's good I think?" Not sure if she got that right. She ends up chuckling at the pet's antics too. Everything is well
Until someone throws her something. A ball of paper, some trash. Something along that line, which somewhat Djamila catches in her hand. "Why don't you go back to your own country, with your friends, if you have to be so loud blind girl!"
Djamila gets up slowly. "How about I make you eat this and make sure you choke on it, so you will be dead quiet." Now this is definitely not fun and games anymore. Djamila is serious on that one, and unless held back by one of her 'friends' probably is going to feed the trash to that nasty person."
Well, they certainly are noisy, and she is too if she's honest. It's good practice. Keep your mind quiet, even if there's a storm around you or some other shit.
When it's time to do the downward dog, she moves slowly into position. There is no rush for her. It's not the fastest ship, it's the sturdiest one that makes it across the sea. Everything is well. In general, she's even having a good time. She feels like s5he can call those two friends. Not close or anything, but friends. a sense of camaraderie. Even when Hawksley laughs loudly because he fell. So when He asks her if it is craic, she has to answer him. "Yeah, it's good I think?" Not sure if she got that right. She ends up chuckling at the pet's antics too. Everything is well
Until someone throws her something. A ball of paper, some trash. Something along that line, which somewhat Djamila catches in her hand. "Why don't you go back to your own country, with your friends, if you have to be so loud blind girl!"
Djamila gets up slowly. "How about I make you eat this and make sure you choke on it, so you will be dead quiet." Now this is definitely not fun and games anymore. Djamila is serious on that one, and unless held back by one of her 'friends' probably is going to feed the trash to that nasty person.
Fortunately, while her tank top momentarily takes on the dimensions of a sports bra, Coco suffers no further damage to her dignity for the moment, save for having her toned tummy and smooth back flaunted - along with a nasty bit of bruising near the top of her ribs from the match earlier in the week. Hawksley gets a good view of his own handiwork before he ends up falling on his face, causing Coco to smile victoriously. "Wrong pose, Lucky, we already did Cobra," she says savagely. At least, it's savage for the yoga dilettantes of the world. In the meanwhile, Captain Morgan disentangles himself from her shirt, padding over beside Coco mimicking her posture as he starts to chuckle excitedly.
"And lunge," the instructor calls out. Coco brings her right foot forward to the front of her body, her knee against her chest as her left leg remains extended with the other knee against the floor.
"Can you do this position, Lucky?" she asks, turning her head over her shoulder and looking back at Hawksley out of the corner of her eye, clearly knowing exactly what she's doing. It's at that moment that the ball that should have been bound for the bin crashes into the blind girl, causing Coco to frown as her eyes snap in that direction.
"Oh, come on! Leave Djamila alone. There's only one real disruptor here."
"Everyone, turn your focus inward, please. You," the yogi says, stretching an arm out several feet to point at the one who threw the ball, "out. And..." The instructor frowns. "...No threats should be made here. This is an exercise in finding serenity."
With that seeming to at least be settled somewhat for the moment, Coco finds her lips pressed together in a thoughtful expression. She turns it back over her shoulder again, checking Hawksley's reaction and fluttering her eyelashes innocently.
Hawksley can tell Coco is trying to bait him, but her banter doesn't bother him and neither does the bruising that brands her back. "I can do all kinds of positions, princess" he informs her, picking himself up and pushing forwards into a lopsided lunge.
He's about to add a jovial jibe, but then he tenses. He can sense trouble a mile off with his past experiences and he feels the familiar tingling sensation that indicates it's all about to kick off.
Rising slowly to his feet, he looks for the caustic culprit who insulted Djamila, as well as himself and Coco in the process.
"And why don't you feck right off?" he fires at them, his dark eyes flashing with fury.
"I thought this stuff was all about peace, love and acceptance. It seems to me like you have no place in this class."
"The craic is good" he confirms to Djamila. "Racist eejits not so much." He makes no effort to try and restrain the dancer. As far as he's concerned, she's well within her rights to teach her abuser a harsh lesson.
Before the 'Generationers' can pursue the matter further, the perpetrator is promptly kicked out the class, giving Hawksley flashbacks to his school days. This time he's not on the recieving end however and he gives the guilty party a grin as the door slams behind them.
"Good riddance to bad rubbish" he mutters, before making his way back to his mat.
Coco is cool, and Hawksley is cool. That's what matters right? Don't want to make more of a scene and have them thrown out too. Breath Djamila, breathe. You don't have to hit anyone there are other things to do...
She calms herself down enough and reaches to grab her staff. "I have to go. Things to handle. A fight to prepare for. It was nice to meet you both. Coco hopes you find what you want from this. Hawksley, I am sure I will meet you in round three." She smirks a bit and makes her way out of the Yoga room.
Outside, she catches up to the perpetrator. For anyone looking, she whispers to her and then pulls her blindfold up slightly, for the racist girl's eyes only. Who knows what she saw? But she first gets really pale, like a ghost, and then runs out screaming. Guess some things are better left to mysteries. And with that, Djamila, now smiling, walks out of the Gym completely.
Coco raises an arm up to wave at Djamila as the dancer wanders back out of the class. "Okay, Djay-Djay! I'll be watching your match! I mean, I want to see what Dee-Jay Supernova can do; I missed her last match, and I bet you two will make a wicked show." A stripper and a DJ seems like a natural enough pairing, after all. She doesn't give the other one exiting the class much attention, not normally being one to escalate conflict - Irishmen excepted, it seems.
"And into forward fold," the yoga instructor tells the class. Coco joins in with the others in bringing her left foot forward to match her right, then bends at the hips, going fully over, planting her palms against the mat on either side of her feet as she demonstrates the flexibility of someone who has a decent amount of yoga experience. Practically jackknifed, her ponytail hanging down to nearly touch the ground, she peeks between her legs to see if Hawksley is paying attention or following suit.
"How about this one?" she mouths, putting on a poker face as her eyebrows lift - or drop, as it were - just a bit.
"Take care of yourself, Djamila" Hawksley calls after the departing dancer. "Good luck with the dee jay."
The forward fold finds the fiery fighter flummoxed. "Nah, I'm gonna give that one a miss. I'm not in the mood for it" he claims to Coco. "Besides, I'm watching some cailin show of her awesome arse to me. I'm having a grand old time."
It's obvious from the aptitude the lithe Londoner shows for the yoga moves she's performing, that she's experienced in practising the poses. "Is this how you posh girls spend your free time then, when you're not going to parties and shopping?"
"I'm not showing off, I'm just saluting the sun," Coco protests insincerely, winking as the golden light beams through the windows in appreciation of the class's efforts. "And who says that we don't do this at parties? Or shopping, for that matter? Even rich girls need a discount sometimes."
One of the other students in the class loses their balance and topples over. The continued exchange between Hawksley and Coco doesn't go unnoticed by the yoga instructor, nor are they willing to attribute the disruption to pure coincidence, but they decide to carry on with the class with a continually consternated expression.
"Yoga, pilates, and tennis. A lot of effort goes into keeping this ass party-fit," she assures Hawksley.
"And upward salute," the instructor repeats, his instruction having apparently been missed by the purple-haired poseuse as she holds the standing forward bend a bit too long. She straightens up and bends her back, reaching her arms out in Hawksley's general direction with fingers outstretched and bringing her pelvis forward as she assumes the eleventh pose of the Surya Namaskar.
"Like I said, some of us put a lot of effort into our appearance. Of course, the side benefits are nice. Healthy mind, healthy body - you know, that sort of thing."
The binturong beside her, trying to imitate the pose, ends up falling on its back again with paws outstretched and makes a chuckling sound.
"What are you up to, anyway, Morgie?" Coco asks, still not having noticed what the bearcat is actually doing.
"Sure you are" Hawksley retorts unconvinced. He blinks as the sunlight blazes in, enjoying its warmth on his tanned skin.
"I'd be sure to give you a discount, if you came to where I was selling my wares" the Irishman informs her. "It sounds like you're an active sort too. No wonder you're a fab little fighter."
When she reaches out to him, he can't resist grabbing hold of her hand, tugging it playfully. It's meant to be purely for fun and frolics, but if he's not careful, he will send Coco crashing down to copy the position held by the Captain!
As she has already stated, Coco is merely following the ritual of the Surya Namaskar. She's not actually reaching for Hawksley, she's just reaching - saluting the sun. She's well on her way at this point, she's sure, to learning how to levitate for real, Dua-Lipa-eat-her-heart-out. She's entirely unprepared, then, for the sudden extra force bending her backward - pushing her hands toward the floor, and causing her to not just fall to the ground, but manage a full backflip as she brings her legs up in an attempt to stop herself, perhaps even catching Hawksley's neck with her ankles reflexively to bring him crashing down in a compromising position with her.
Morgie scampers at the sound, darting off into the class and causing additional carnage as other practitioners dance and trip and generally lose their salutes to get out of the way of the rampaging bearcat.
"Oh, what did you do, you silly basta-"
Coco's eyes go wide as she suddenly finds herself being lifted off of Hawksley by a supernaturally extended hand that has grabbed whatever part of her it could reach - in this case, apparently, the elastic of her underwear, delivering a wedgie as she's swung straight to the door and flung forcefully out of the class and into the hall, tumbling until she's in plow pose against the hall wall opposite.
A second arm aims to fling Hawksley after her.
"NEVER DISTURB MY CLASSES AGAIN!!"
The shout comes before the door *SLAMS* shut after the pair.
A few moments later, the door opens again, and a hand reaches out of the room to drop a shellshocked bearcat next to the New Generation fighters before *SLAMMING* the door shut once more.
"Wanker!" Coco attacks Hawksley from her upside-down pose, levelling a silver glare. "Now I'll never learn how to do stretchy legs! You owe me, Lucky!"
Log created on 10:44:20 04/21/2023 by Coco, and last modified on 17:47:31 04/21/2023.