[It's not the same for Mickey as it is for Cassel. He doesn't relish his war wounds; he takes no pleasure from the pain once it's been inflicted. For him, it's all about the adrenaline, and now that it's past all he can do is feel hollow and achy.
He's trying to get it back at the punching bag when Cassel comes in. His knuckles are bandaged under their wraps, but he's still hitting hard and fast as a runaway train. He doesn't like the pain, but there's a certain grim satisfaction in the way it lances through his hands with every smack of his fists against the bag. It's real. It's solid. Maybe that's what really drives him into all these fights: with all the problems chasing each other endlessly in his head, there's something about being able to hit something heavy with his hands and hear it crack.
The sound of the door comes to him only distantly, but he stops anyway, fighting to catch his breath, wiping the sting of sweat away from his eyes and the cuts on his face. He turns, spots Cassel, and goes still, expression hunted and guilty.]
What?
[It doesn't connect for him just yet what the look of betrayal is for.]</small
spam
He's trying to get it back at the punching bag when Cassel comes in. His knuckles are bandaged under their wraps, but he's still hitting hard and fast as a runaway train. He doesn't like the pain, but there's a certain grim satisfaction in the way it lances through his hands with every smack of his fists against the bag. It's real. It's solid. Maybe that's what really drives him into all these fights: with all the problems chasing each other endlessly in his head, there's something about being able to hit something heavy with his hands and hear it crack.
The sound of the door comes to him only distantly, but he stops anyway, fighting to catch his breath, wiping the sting of sweat away from his eyes and the cuts on his face. He turns, spots Cassel, and goes still, expression hunted and guilty.]
What?
[It doesn't connect for him just yet what the look of betrayal is for.]</small