Normally Scout wasn't the type of person to dwell on things for longer than necessary, but she noticed she didn't seem to be able to shake what had happened with Dresden. It had been a little over a week since she had left him lying in the dirt surrounded by a couple of men. She knew he had fatally wounded one of them but the woman hadn't taken the time out of her time the past week to figure out how the fight had ended. Scout hadn't told people about the night, but she had told people she'd be taking some swings at some dummies soon to release the anger and tension she was carrying within herself. Not being able to concentrate on her work, all because of some Legionnaire she had only met once, made her frustrated. It had taken a lot of willpower to not ask other Legionnaires if they had heard how Dresden was doing, and she was telling herself that this was a sign that she was starting to leave the night behind her -- but in all honestly, that was one big lie.

That afternoon was deemed as the perfect afternoon by her to let go of some of the pent-up frustration of the last week. The short woman had made her way over to the training grounds, not paying much attention to the people around her. She looked up when someone greeted her and she made sure to show him a polite smile. It was some Legionnaire she had seen around a few times. "Going for some training, aye?" he asked. "You betcha", Scout replied with a twinkle in her eyes. "There's some fellow Legionnaires training, maybe you'll find a good opponent. Dresden sure seems to have some power left in him. Maybe he'd like to spar some more." The look in her eyes hardened for a moment. "Hmm", she said, "I'll see who's there. Have a good rest of your afternoon." She then continued to make her way down to the training grounds.

Her greenish-blue eyes scanned the area and it didn't take long before she saw a blonde man. Judging by the healing wounds on his face and arms, it couldn't be anyone else except for Dresden. If Scout had been afraid of confrontation, she would have turned around to avoid talking to him, but she wasn't like that. No, instead she made her way over to one of the dummies. She wasn't scared of confrontation, but she wouldn't do the man the honour of speaking to him first. After all, he had been the one to act extremely childish when he got called out on his behaviour. The blonde started to wrap her hands and wrist before tying her hair in a ponytail. She took of the vest she had been wearing, now revealing a tanktop and some cloth pants that were tucked in her boots. She rolled her shoulders a few times and cracked her neck before taking a swing at the dummy.

He was relieved when she finally entered the court yard. He'd been enjoying his time in training over the past week, he couldn't deny it, but scoping the place out every other day had become tiresome. Lingering before or after shifts had been exhausting and while he did feel like he'd improved a little just in that week, he was more than ready to lay eyes on Lady Kane once again.

Tossing stones from one pile to the next, lifting them up and over ones head or squatting low with them. It worked well enough for building the muscle and grip strength, but he wouldn't deny he often thought there must be a better way to do it. Maybe next time he'd bring a bag to put them in and strap them to his back. Then he could run with them and kill two birds with twice as many stones. He'd been repeating the exercises for twenty or so minutes when a small, blonde woman entered into his peripherals. He looked away at first, lips turning up as he continued his exercise. He wasn't sure what she'd do - walk over and immediately scold or assault him? Or ignore him, the way she'd done before. The latter seemed to be the case, as he waited long enough that it was clear she wouldn't be approaching him first. That was just fine.

Still, he waited. Until the first sound of one of the dummies being hit drew his eyes up and toward the woman in question. Once he had that reason to notice her, he tossed the stone he'd been lifting back to the ground and wiped the palms of his hands off on the sides of his pants. He picked up his sword and tightened the belt around his waist, he was dressed much the same way Scout was, though his clothes were stained and dirty from his previous wrestling matches.

Putting his hands on his waist, he paced for a moment with the intention of looking like he was only just now considering approaching her, though that was always the plan. For at least five minutes he watched her beat the dummy up before 'working up the courage' to walk across the courtyard, coming up behind and just to the left of the dummy. He placed his hand on his heart and bowed at the hips, a deep bow, proper. When he stood back up, he inhaled a slow, deep breath. "Marchioness Kane, Lady Steward," he spoke up confidently, but with that tone of exasperation that came from guilt. "I'm real glad I caught ya out here. If you'd be so kind as to give me the time to apologize properly for my actions, I'd greatly appreciate it."

Beating a dummy proved to be a great way to let go of anger and frustration, especially because, in contrary to sparring with another person, it allowed her to stop thinking for a moment. There was no way the dummy would be swinging back at her, meaning she could simply focus on landing the blows without having to protect herself. Some sweat started to form on her forehead not long after she had started hitting the dummy. The late Aestas sun seemed to want to get all of its warmth out before Autumna would start. Some strand of hair got stuck against the sides of her face and with the back of her arm she tried to sweep them away before throwing another punch.

Scout had noticed that her favourite - and at the same time least favourite - Legionnaire was making his way over to her. This wasn't when she first noticed him though. The woman had seen the man when she walked across the training fields and she was aware that he too had seen her back then. With a grunt she hit the dummy just when Dresden appeared left of the dummy. Perhaps this hit had been a bit harder than the previous ones and perhaps she had been imagining his face on the dummy when her fist impacted its ribs. The Lady Steward dropped her arms and leaned her hands on her hips while she blew upwards to move a strand of hair out of her face. Her hair was very smooth/sleek and she had trouble making ponytails that could keep all of the hair out of her face. She looked at the man as he bowed but didn't return his greeting. Instead she just stood there, still with her hands on her hips, listening to what he was saying, although her lack of facial expression made it difficult to decipher whether she was actually listening or not. "I hope you're not thinking that simply stating that will suffice as an apology." She looked him up and down, taking a look of the bruises and marks he fight left on him. "Is he dead?" she then simply asked, referring to the man he had ran his sword through. When he did this, she had left the scene already, but of course she had heard about it. The news of people stabbing one another quickly travelled, but she had not heard whether the man had died or not.

Her ferocity as he approached only seemed to increase. It was impressive, the way she went at the dummy. He watched the last hit with a smile on his face that he did his best to wipe clean by the time she'd begun to speak to him. The way her hair fell in her face, loose from the ponytail she'd only just put up, called to his fingers to push away but he couldn't do that. At least not yet. Her expression, or lack thereof, told him all he needed to know. There was something behind her eyes and it could have been a lot of things, though he guessed at the very least she was still a little angry. Poor dummy. "No, my lady, the statement wasn't the apology." He confirmed, though he didn't have time to break into the actual apology before she asked him something different.

At that even the hints of a smile were erased from his face. He turned his head away from her for a moment, licking his lips, and shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "Yes, he is," he answered honestly. "It was me or him, and he was a little more drunk and a lot less trained." His eyes turned back to her, hands folding together in front of him. "I ask that you don't judge me for that. I take no pleasure in the loss of a man's life but there were three of them and one of me." He cleared his throat and took a careful step forward, glancing around the training yard briefly before his eyes returned to her.

"I was out of line that night, Lady Kane. Drank a little too quickly, got my pride hurt, said somethin' I shouldn't've said. You didn't deserve to be spoken to like that. No lady does, no matter her status. So for my words, and actions, I humbly apologize. I hope you can forgive me." That was about all of begging he could stand, and really, he didn't think Scout would want or expect more, but you never know. Once the serious apology had passed, he finally cracked the slightest of smiles again, running one large hand through soaked blonde hair. "I've prepared more groveling, if you so wish it, my Lady. Just say the word."

It seemed like the question made Dresden uncomfortable, which was a side of him that Scout hadn't seen before. When he was ready, he said that the man indeed had died. "My opinion on it does not matter now." She felt like whatever she'd say, he'd have an answer ready to refute it. He did have a point that it hadn't exactly been a fair battle number-wise, but she wasn't sure how fair it had been experience-wise. After all, Dresden was a trained Legionnaire and the three men didn't have much experience when it came to combat. Yet, her opinions wouldn't change the outcome of the fight.

He had stepped closer to apologise. She didn't much care for it and kept her guard up. "I'm not sure how genuine your apology is, so grovel away." Scout looked at him with a raised eyebrow with impatient body language. Her goal had been to punch away her anger, but perhaps Dresden could make some of the anger go away by talking. Giving him a chance only seemed fair.

He gazed up at her, his expression fully serious, his eyes squinting to avoid the sun. Maybe she thought her opinion didn't matter, but she obviously had an opinion regarding the matter. And surely a Noble lady would be bothered by it in some way. Was it simply because he had killed someone, or was it because she knew deep down that the fight had been started in the first place because of her? That she had even pressed pause on it in order to make a point to Dresden, but then had walked away? If she had stayed, if she had helped, would that man still be alive? "Your opinion matters to me, Lady Kane." He replied quietly, still a little sullen, still guilty. "That mans life, his blood, is on my hands and I've gotta deal with that. It's no easy thing to sleep through, and it'd bother me even more if you thought any different."

Because the way she was acting here, now, told him all he needed to know. It hadn't been a silly, one night thing, had it? She had come in to drink that night, and maybe she'd wanted to do so alone. But Dresden had surprised her in some way, and for a brief time she'd let him amuse her even knowing she would never dip so far below her station, but he'd effected her in some way. Enough that a week later she was still upset. Still bothered by what had happened, and it had been such a small thing. Just a vulgar sexual comment. It had shattered that sweet talking facade of his, ruined the image she'd painted in her head? Or maybe just made her re-think all of the current assumptions she'd made about him. Was she used to always getting it right the first time? Reading people so perfectly that she was no longer surprised by them? Or had she been worried that her actions had caused him harm? Whatever it was, it had been taking up space in her mind.

Knowing that, he didn't mind groveling a little longer. "Absolutely," he said with a nod. Sweat dripped from his forehead into his eyes and he reached down for the bottom of his tunic, lifting it up to wipe his forehead clean. In doing so, he briefly exposed his abdomen and chest, both splattered with purple, green, and yellow bruises that stretched around toward his back and matched the ones along his face and arms. "No matter my reasons, there's no excuse for me to act childish. You were more than kind and fair to me the whole night, despite my brazenness which I...honestly, was a little surprised by myself. Regardless of status you're a good person who came to the tavern to get away for a little while like anyone else, and I reckon I ruined your night, and, well, my own chances at learning how to dance a little better. Which is definitely my loss."

He moved his hands behind his back, standing up straight, though his head tipped toward the dummy once. "If you've come out here lookin' to let off some steam, it's only fair I offer myself up." He tipped his head again, this time toward the rack of wooden swords meant for training purposes. "If you'd like to spar, let me be your partner. You can take out whatever frustrations you got left on me, and maybe that can at least be the start of your forgiveness. I'm willin' to work for it, long as it takes, my lady."

"Your opinion matters to me, Lady Kane." Scout still didn't feel like sharing her opinion, but there was more to it than met the eye. For starters she simply didn't know why she would tell Dresden what was on her mind. She couldn't imagine how it would be of any value given that the outcome of the fight would remain the same. On the other hand, she wasn't completely sure how she should feel. It seemed like Dresden expected her to feel some sort of guilt, but when push came to shove, she didn't feel guilty. Her frustrations weren't all directed at the Legionnaire but also at herself, for a variety of reasons. Was it wrong of her to not feel guilty about the death of the man? She had been the reason of the fight, but it wasn't like she chose to be involved. She didn't ask someone to steal her drink while she was trying to dismantle a fight. Was it wrong of her that she hadn't intervened when the three men cornered Dresden? She was mad at him and hadn't anticipated that it wasn't just a regular brawl.

She was aware that she had only met Dresden once and that it meant she couldn't know who he was exactly, but over the span of the evening she had been able to paint a pretty clear picture of who he was and although it sounded contradictory, it meant she wasn't sure when he was being genuine or not. Hearing him say he cared about her opinion made her wonder whether he was telling the truth or if he trying to get on her good side again by being charming. Something about the sexual comment had caused her to become weary of him. At first their flirting had seemed innocent but once the comment had been made, she started to feel objectified. It was hard to let go of a feeling like that, especially when you were being objectified by someone lower in status. She tried - hard - not to let the social prejudices towards commoners affect her way of thinking but when looking at the bigger picture, Dresden had indeed been out of line. Like he said himself, no woman, nobility or not, deserved to be treated like that. She got the impression that him successfully flirting with a Marchioness had gone to his head and that it had been the reason he had crossed her boundaries.

The thinking started to confuse her, so she put a hand up to her forehead to give it a little rub. She was getting a headache. She hadn't been able to ignore the bruises on his abdomen and chest and it was causing her to start thinking again, which she didn't want to. Panic was rising in her chest, a feeling she wasn't familiar with. Something about Dresden lured her in and she didn't seem to be able to resist it. It was then that she realised in order to get rid of the confusion, anger and frustration that she needed to take matters into her own hands. The blonde stepped forward, closing the distance between herself and the man. She pushed herself up on the tips of her toes and gently placed her fingers on his lower cheeks, almost near his jaw. Then Scout softly placed her lips on his, breathing in his scent and feeling the warmth of his lips on hers. The Lady Steward closed her eyes, not caring who was able to see her kiss the Legionnaire. After what felt like hours but was probably more like a couple of seconds the softly pulled away, keeping her face close to his. With big doe eyes she looked up at him, meeting his gaze. A soft sigh left her lips, the corners of her mouth lifted slightly upwards. "I don't like to admit it, but there's something about you, Dresden. Either fuck me or fight me, but I need to get you off my mind. You're distracting."

She needed to feel his hands on her body. Whether it was in a fight or in bed, it was all the same to her, but something needed to happen so she would be able to forget about that night. It was very much unlike her and it was almost like the man had put a spell on her. Scout didn't know how to describe the feeling but it controlled her, leaving her breathless and confused.

[Up to you of course but if he chooses the first option, I suggest we don't do that in the middle of the training courtyard :')]

Surprise.

No, genuine surprise. Not the surprise he often feigned when he was putting on a show. Not the fake inhale, parted lips, lifted brows. Real, genuine surprise.

As she'd moved toward him he considered the options. He'd offered to spar, but he'd meant with swords. Hand to hand could've easily gone wrong a few different ways, so maybe that wasn't what she wanted. Maybe she just wanted to hit him. He couldn't blame her, and he would've taken it with a smile. He wondered where it would hurt the most? He couldn't see her hitting him in the face. Not that she wouldn't, but they were very out in the open and a sucker punch would draw some attention. A body shot would hurt plenty, would be quick, and easier for her to reach meaning there'd be more power behind it. Was this reaction an acceptance of his apology, or a denial?

Oh, maybe she will go for the face, he thought briefly as she lifted her hands toward him. But instead of knocking him on his ass, the touch was gentle. Surprisingly gentle given the look she'd initially had on her face. And that gentle touch was followed up by an even gentler one, a kiss. Well, for all his scheming and game playing, he was only a man. She was on the tips of her toes to reach his mouth and if he'd been able to think, he might have wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up closer to him. But he couldn't think, and she'd already begun to pull away from the kiss before his gears got to moving again.

Her eyes, round and glazed over, stared up at him. His own moved back and forth, searching for something. For anything that might indicate that this was pay back for the way he'd acted. But her words were like velvet against his ears, crude and honest. She gave him an option, but it sounded like a single proposal to him. He knew he should decline. He knew it. His mind alone urged him to reconsider, to think of his long-term plans, to consider what little this might achieve so quickly. But she smelled so good. Say no. And she was surprisingly strong. Spar with her. And the image of her reaching into his pocket for the matches was branded in his mind. Spar with her, Dresden.

He was only a man.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, his own voice quieter than he'd meant it to be as he reluctantly pulled away from her and glanced around, eyes squinting in the sun as he looked for a place to go. It was still mid-afternoon. No shift change for at least an hour. The only people still in the courtyard were the newbies, who likely hadn't paid them any attention and wouldn't need to get into the room where they kept the training equipment. That was the closest place. The door had a lock. His hand moved to her lower back, lower than it had been when they were dancing, urging her into the correct direction while his other hand pointed over her shoulder to the room. "Ladies first," he muttered into her ear as they both began to walk in that direction, Scout just a step or two in front of him. If anyone saw them it would almost look like she was drawing him out of training to be disciplined.

As they reached the room he stepped forward and opened the door for her, happy to see no one was inside. He glanced around briefly then followed her in, closed and locked the door, and immediately discarded the belt that held his sword to his hip. The only sources of light in the room came from a small window on the upper left wall made of thick, foggy glass and the light that flooded in between the cracks in the door. A stand of extra wooden swords sat off to the left under the window, a desk was tucked into the left corner, and a shelf of random equipment, some spare Legionnaire jackets, and first aid items took up most of the wall to the right.

When he turned back around he wasted no time in finding her lips again, one hand moving up to pull the band from her hair so it would fall back down along her shoulders the way he liked it. He backed her up near the desk and reached around her to yank the chair out of the way and toss it aside. It clambered to the floor, along with whatever was atop the desk that his arm swept off so that he could grab her by the hips and lift her up to sit there instead. As soon as she was sitting his fingers were seeking out the edge of the tank top and pulling it up and over her head. With that first layer out of the way his left hand moved to her head, fingers gripping a handful of hair at the base of her scalp so he could firmly but gently pull her head back, exposing her neck to him while his right hand moved slowly up her back, fingers splayed so he could graze over as much of her skin as possible.

His lips moved from her collarbones up to her shoulders, to her neck where he lingered before ending up by her ear. "You said a very vulgar word out there, Lady Kane," he whispered. "Say it for me again."

Her heart was beating fast in her chest while she was looking up at Dresden. She saw the confusion and surprise in his eyes but didn't let that keep her from giving him two simple choices. Although it might have come across pretty naturally, Scout was almost shaking. There was no going back now. Her thoughts were racing and she was telling herself she was making a big mistake, but it was a mistake that needed to happen. Otherwise she would not know peace. She wouldn't be able to shake the thought of being close to Dresden. The silence seemed endless but then the Legionnaire spoke. The words brought a very small, very careful smile to her face. They pulled away from each other and she followed his gaze, noticing he was looking at the material shed.

He motioned her into the directing of the shed, guiding her with a hand on her lower back. She fell into step, walking across the field towards the room. Once there, Dresden held open the door and Scout stepped inside, letting her eyes go over the equipment. She looked back at the men when the heard the thud of his belt falling to the floor. Then the distance closed between them once more and their lips found each other. There was lust behind it. Her hair spilled over her shoulders when the man removed the band that held it together. Scout placed her hands on his chest, playing with the neckline of his top while he moved them to the desk in the room. With quite a lot of noise the chair and the items on top of the desk flew through the room, finding their resting place somewhere on the ground. People outside of the shed that were in hearing distance would wonder what the hell was going on, but she paid it no mind. There was nothing else in that moment except for her and Dresden. The man lifted her up and placed her on the desk, removing her top and taking a hand of hair to pull her head back. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply as the man was exploring the skin of her neck and shoulders with his lips.

His words sent chills down her spine. She kissed his neck and made her way down to his chest before turning her head towards him, for as far as it was possible with his hand in her hair. "I said", she whispered as her fingers fiddled around with the rim of his pants. "That I'm going to need you to fuck me." Her eyes met his and then she leaned in, kissing him deeply while her hands disappeared under his top, caressing the black and blue skin beneath it and slightly digging her fingers into his back.

That was all he needed. That second request, nay, demand from Scout. He'd still been half expecting this all to be a game, that she was doing this to get back at him for their previous encounter and that at any moment she was going to pull away and leave him there in the shed with no breath. But no. This was no game, no payback. If the words or the kiss that followed were not indication enough, the nails he felt scraping his back certainly were. Even beneath the kiss he gave way to his own reaction, letting go of her hair long enough to pull his shirt over his head to give her free reign. He couldn't feel the tender bruises any longer, their dull pain took a backseat to the sweet, sweet pain of her fingers against the skin of his back which pulled him ever closer. "Keep doin' that," he asked, a grin beneath the next kiss as his now free hands urgently helped her slip out of her boots and the remainder of her clothes.

It was only after they were finished that he was surprised the time had passed without a single person coming to disturb them in the equipment shed. Not that he was complaining. He'd pulled his pants and boots back on, and a cigarette hung from the side of his mouth as he reached down to the floor to pick up the pile of Legionnaire's jackets that had fallen to the floor, like many other things on the shelf had done, somewhat...mysteriously. He returned them to their spot on the shelf and turned in a circle, looking around at the carnage in the rest of the room. Most of the swords had fallen off the rack, but he opted to pick the chair from the desk back up and settle down into it. Scout had surprised him multiple times over in the last hour or so. A lot of people might have believed he was a man who bedded women often, whether they be ladies of the night or fellow commoners that he'd managed to sweet talk, but that wasn't true. Because that wasn't fun. This was what he liked. A build up of tension. Of pain, of hunger. No, this was a rare occurrence and that made it all the more satisfying. He rolled his shoulders and his neck while he quietly committed everything to memory. The way she had looked, the way she had felt, the noises she had made. He wanted to remember it all.

"I'll take this to mean you've accepted my apology," he said as he pulled the cigarette from between his lips and offered the remainder of it to her. His eyes lingered over her body. The aches and pains from his bruises began to settle back in, only made worse by the somewhat rough physical activity they'd just taken part in with each other. The adrenaline had kept it at bay at first, but as his heart rate was finally returning to an even pace, it caught up to him. And man did that pain feel good. "Alternatively, if it means we can do this again, feel free to withhold your forgiveness and I'll be real happy to grovel again, Lady Kane."

If the hour hadn't already passed, it would be soon. Shift change meant someone would be coming in to get a back up jacket because they'd lost, or stained, or torn theirs. There was always one. He wondered how Scout might react to that. Granted, he'd be happy to cover. He had no intention of whispers and rumors letting this find the ears of her family, especially Helena Kane. Scout was fierce enough to face, a true challenge, so he could only imagine her grandmother was twice as terrifying. But he also couldn't deny that there was thrill in sneaking around, in hiding something like this. Even if she'd gotten him out of her system and had no intention of repeating the process, he'd still hold the card close to his chest. "Don't guess you still wanted to spar?" He asked then, licking his lips and smiling.

The second the two of them caught their breath after they had finished their... physical exercise, Scout started to realise the mistake the two of them had made. Would she call it a mistake? She had had a great time and felt how the tension left her body, but now other worries and concerns filled its place. They had not been discrete - at all. She had kissed him in plain sight and then they had made their way to the shed. People would definitely have suspicions of what happened.

She had draped one of the Legionnaire vests around her shoulders and accepted the cigarette Dresden offered her. She inhaled the smoke and let it escape again with a sigh. When he joked about her not forgiving him so they could do this again, she looked up at him. There was some fear in her eyes, but it wasn't Dresden that she feared. It were the consequences of her own actions. There was no way she'd be able to explain the kiss that had happened in a public space. This shouldn't happen again. She couldn't afford to be associated with casual (little do they know) hook-ups with a Legionnaire. The blonde got up and got dressed again, putting the jacket back with the rest of them and picking up some of the stuff that they had thrown across the room.

Then she made her way to the door. "You're correct, let's not spar." She forced herself to put a smile on her face, although it was not a genuine one. Once she stood outside, she turned to face the inside of the shed. "And don't let it happen again. Stuff like that doesn't fly in the military." The stern finger that she had held up disappeared once she was finished pretending like she had just reprimanded Dresden. Then, the Lady Steward turned and left with more concerns than she had had when she came here.

[Scout exit]