Avery stopped throwing punches for a second and gained a thoughtful look before answering. "Naw. I'm pretty good for now. How 'bout you?"
Marc actually looked surprised. "Um, can't really complain and, man, that's a relief."
Avery raised a brow. "Whadda mean?"
"I'm sure you know, there's some real wackos around here. When they told me I got assigned to you, I really didn't know what expect from you. Heck, I expected to be sent to the hospital by the time I opened the door." Marc admitted nervously.
Avery heaved herself over to the bench press before starting another routine. "I know whatcha mean. I've seen how some of the fighter 'round just eat anyone in sight or that they fight. Personally, I really don't see the point of killing and eating your opponent. I mean, beatin' the tar outta them, sure. But just gobblin' up the competition would make things borin' after awhile."
Marc approached the roc as she continued on with her exercise, any feelings of unease, disappearing at her casual attitude. "So what's it really like being in the Gold Division? I've only been around any Gold fighters for really short time."
Avery looked at, not even breaking her rhythm with her weight. "Not much different than anywhere else. Sure, you could really live it up around here, but I never cared for all that pampering. Really, just give me some place to train and some anthros to fight and I'm good."
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