Practice Makes Better

At Bare Knuckle Murphy's Boxing Gym, a burly figure works through his aggression on an unfortunate punching bag. Dressed in sweat pants and a hooded long-sleeve sweatshirt, all gray, it might take a minute to recognize Tony Fratelli. The long sleeves and the raised hood also might help to obscure the fact that this particular denizen wasn't sweating from the workout.

The Daeva punishes the bag methodically, with a workman's steady dedication. If anything can focus Tony's attention, it is punching.

That night, it would seem as though Tony is not the only one focused on punching. The gym itself is fairly empty, given the time of night, and in the (relative) quiet of the gym, the faint sounds of a scuffle, and someone shouting in a foreign language, can be heard outside.

Hearing the unmistakable sounds of Trouble, Tony stops his workout and plods out to see what is amiss, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

By the time Tony steps outside, he only glimpses the sight of a baggy jeaned youth scrambling off down the sidewalk. A slight asian woman, dressed in leather and bright colors, runs after him briefly and stops short.

"YOU LEFT YOUR BALLS BEHIND, DOUCHEBAG," she shouts as he disappears into the night.

She turns, facing Tony now. There is a cut on her lower lip that is bleeding slightly, and she sneers at him, spreading her arms in an aggressive gesture. Her distinct appearance identifies her as the girl he met briefly with Sheena at auditions.

"What the hell are you looking at? You want to start shit too?" Though her english is well put together, there is a distinct accent to her speech. She pauses for a minute, and places her hands on her hips. Her expression relaxes slightly and she narrows her eyes, examining him.

"Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?"

Tony stares at her blankly for a few seconds, but can't place her name. Tony is not all about memory. "I, uh, you one of Sheena's friends?" He scrunches up his face trying to put it all together.

The girl takes the moment to wipe the blood off of her lip, testing it for tenderness. She says something under her breath, and gives Tony a shrug. Her demeanor changes from aggressive to guarded as she stuffs her hands into her jacket pockets, and she eyes him warily as though judging his threat level.

"Wouldn't say friends, but we've met. You're her roommate, no?"

"We share living a-com-o-dations." Tony allows, nodding with his version of sagacity. It takes him a moment to remember what brought him out here in the first place and glares around. "What was all that about? That guy messing with youse?"

The girl shrugs again and looks away, finding something suddenly interesting in the lamplight.

"Looked at me funny," came her simple response. After a moment she looks back at Tony.

"You're not from here, right? What do people even come here for?"

He shakes his head, still glaring alertly off in the direction the kid fled.

"Nah, I came here from Chicago. Lots've people come here. It's po-lit-i-cal like that."

She raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. Shifting her weight, she crosses her arms over her chest.

"Come to Manchester? For Politics? What does Manchester have, politically, that Chicago does not?"

Tony thinks, "Uh... Primaries?" he nods, smiling at himself, "It is an important state, New Hampshire."