He's lost enough in racing thoughts that he almost bumps into Theo when the admin stops. It's instinct alone that saves him, stops him in his tracks, and instinct that sees him flinch back when the other steps close.

Don't run. You deserve this — no, no I don't—

"I-I—"

The answer is plain in his hesitation.

[attr="class","beck"]"i deserve this."

hesitation must be quelled. crushed. all that can exist is obedience.

"say it."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

His mind is a warzone, a clash between conditioning and the remnants of pride.

He could have been one of Galar's greatest minds. Had his parents looked out for him, had they displayed even a fraction of the kindness Theo had shown Raziel—

He draws a sharp, bitter breath. He's shaking, fear and adrenaline and a bubbling anger that he's bottled up for the months and years since Rocket had sunk its claws in him. He doesn't dare disobey a direct order from his superior, but neither can he force the lie past a thick tongue, clenched jaw.

He's started to hyperventilate as the fear overtakes him, heart hammering hard enough to hurt.

[attr="class","beck"]nothing escapes but a sharp breath, one that practically gasps for help, which, for once, is actually given.

theo takes a step back but it is by no means mercy.

"pathetic."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn  

Theo retreats, but Gavin barely acknowledges the shifting presence.

It's the word that reaches him, slicing deep through struggling thoughts. His lips twist into a bitter, soundless snarl.

Pathetic. Weak. You're not weak, are you, Cillian?

"No," he seethes. He's not talking to Theo.

[attr="class","beck"]"what?"

they've been through this time and time again. disappoint shows in the form of a sigh, a shake of the head, and the gradual shift in his posture. he tenses, frustrated, and lashes out for merlino's collar to drag him towards the nearest room.

the doors give little resistance as they swing open. theo practically flings him right into a table. the impact scatters paper as well as the nameless grunts around it.

"fight back."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

He is somewhere else, someone else, and there is resistance to the fist that winds in the collar of his shirt. He is no longer a child to be thrown around by the father — he's the same height as Theo, 6'3" and all pent-up anger and powerful muscle.

He snarls as the admin all but grabs him by the throat.

He catches sight of pale blue in place of the Quinn amber he expects to see, and it sobers him long enough for the other to regain control.

Theo throws him into a table, its sharp corner digging against his ribs. The pain brings a clarity that sees survival instinct kick in. He breathes hard, clutching the table's edge as he weathers the pain. Don't scream, don't run, don't fight back—

'Fight back,' Theo commands, and it's all the permission Gavin needs.

Some poor grunt doesn't get out of the way in time; Gavin shoves him hard enough to send him sprawling. He turns to Theo, looks him dead in the eye for the first time in years. His gaze burns with a primal fury.

He lunges, and he does not hold back as he aims a shot to the gut.

[attr="class","beck"]he tenses the moment merlino lunges forward, and though he sees an opportunity to slip past the punch, he instead stands his ground, braces himself, and takes the punch to the gut.

the impact knocks the wind out of him. the urge to vomit rises but it's quicky swallowed by familiarity. pain starts to numb as he throws a left straight into merlino's nose, then immediately follows it with a right hook to the jaw.

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

He's half expecting Theo to dodge, like it's part of their training, but pain blossoms in his hand as his fist sinks into Theo's gut. It's a good sort of pain, satisfying, and Gavin's snarl warps into something like a grin.

Like a schoolyard fight, the displaced grunts form a loose, uneasy ring around the dueling pair.

Gavin ducks the left hook, leaving him open to the impact of Theo's other fist against his jaw. His head snaps to the side, but he doesn't cower. He feints for the side, then throws a punch for the throat.

[attr="class","beck"]this time, he decides to dodge.

he moves just in time to avoid the fist, smoothly slips right past it, then sends his fist into merlino's gut. the other reaches for the back of merlino's neck and shoves in the direction of a nearby grunt.

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

Theo dodges, causing Gavin to overextend. He corrects himself, steps back, but though the punch to the gut is dampened by distance, Theo's raw strength still manages to knock wind from him in a furious hiss.

He's thrown by the back of the neck toward some poor soul minding their own — Gavin is in no state for sympathy. He grabs the other by the back of their neck much like Theo would have done to him and slams it down against the corner of a nearby table.

As his victim collapses, clutching the side of their face and moaning in pain, Gavin rounds on Theo again. His eyes bear a wild, animalistic fury.

This time, when he lunges, he seeks to bring the admin down.

[attr="class","beck"]the sight of one of their likely friends getting taken down is enough to deter them back. the circle widens slightly, but just enough for theo to take a step back to brace himself.

the lunge is predictable, and again, he allows it to happen. arms wrap around his abdomen, tackling him to the ground, and the impact disorients for mere moments. but it does little to stop him from reaching for merlino's wrists to hold them down.

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

Theo goes down too easy, but Gavin's rage is a fuel to keep him blindly satisfied.

His weight pins, fingers seeking to find purchase in Beckett's collar. He wants to hold him down, punch him until something breaks — fight, win, kill—

Theo catches his wrists in a firm hold, yanks Gavin down when he tries to pull back for a swing. This should have been the point where Gavin conceded the fight, but he is not thinking of conditioning. He is not thinking of consequence.

He isn't thinking of anything.

Unable to break the hold, he presses down as hard as he can upon Theo's waist.

The moment Theo is forced to let go, Gavin would resume his brutal assault, targeting face, neck, chest — whatever he can reach.