‘Are you free tomorrow? I think I may take you up on that whole, teach me how to fight thing.’ It had been twelve hours since David had called Spot and asked him to teach him how to fight, but the anxiety still rolled off of him in waves. It wasn’t normal, asking Spot for a request like that, especially with how adamant he had been in the past about not doing it. But after little consideration, David knew that Spot was right. It was important for him to know how to take care of himself-- he couldn’t expect anybody else to do it.
He heard the rap on the balcony just in time, as he had already pushed the couch and the coffee table against the wall, giving them plenty of space. He pushed to the door, pulling it open and speaking before Spot could get the chance, knowing the best way of pretending things were normal would be by being his obnoxious self. “If we’re doing this, I have a few ground rules,” he stated, holding up a few fingers. “First, you’re not allowed to make fun of me.”
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