“I welcome any attempt to de-feather me, But I don’t think you’d be one to get too far. Again, Mortal girl, undead creature, the odds are stacked wildly outside of your favor. You go back to your business, hon, And leave me to mine, yeah? Unless you intend to fight me for the gym?” Mercy smirked, fishing his scythe out of the front pocket of his sweatshirt and toeing out of his shoes, clearly intending to get his workout in even if the short girl with the attitude didn’t want him to. he dropped the pocket knife into his shoe before he turned, cracking his knuckles before setting in on the bag in front of him. He’d clearly trained in some capacity, though his background certainly appeared to come out of MMA than boxing, rocking back on one foot before swinging the other forward suddenly, the bag rattling and threatening to come off the hook that held it as he set to striking it in earnest, his anger over the last several weeks, the fact he was still right on the cusp of starving, and the fact he simply hadn’t taken the time to let off steam for quite a while making the onslaught look less like practice and more like he was trying to make the most noise possible and knock the bag into the floor.
Belle indeed had half a mind to fight him for the gym. It’d been a while since she’d had an opponent but considering her consistent regiment since arriving here, she was in better shape than ever before. She missed having a trainer, but then again, she missed almost everything about her old life, and it was what led to her being in such a foul mood. As he started his own workout, Belle rolled her eyes at him before attempting to return to her own. After a few moments though, she couldn’t help but turn back to him, still just as annoyed as before. “If you’re going to be that ridiculously loud about it I might as well fight you.” she snapped at him.