( his nonchalance, whether she should really be basing her worries off of someone who's equally paying as little attention, only seems to encourage her own. from what she'd been able to make between the sounds of the solidity of her fist hitting the leather of a punching bag, there was something about something leaking into the water—energy? ener-insert some ending to the word she's not familiar with here. and then the message that advised them to stay indoors; key word being advised, not told.

maybe she should be paying attention to the way that rain, however chilled in it's temperature, is blooming a garden of heat within the confines of her chest. rushing an ease through her veins like silk, a looseness of the tongue that she might recognize if she were standing before anyone but him. they'd always bit at one another with their words, how was this any different?

a smirk widens about ruby lips, tilting her crown with a raise of both brows, a playful pin-up of opposition. ) No? Why might that be, niño? Maybe you should work on your distractions as much as you work that punching bag, mm?