[For Regina] Working it Out

Dyson was restless, he seemed to be restless all the time lately, not unironically like a caged animal. He went hunting. He ran (both in human and wolf form). He paced his tacky room. He explored the limits of the world of the inn.

And after he'd discovered the gym with the improvised heavy bag he'd spent a good part of each evening beating on the thing.

Better to work out his restless aggression that way than on someone else.

Tonight he was heading back to his room, sweaty and barefoot with knuckles taped and bloodied, wearing a pair of low slung sweatpants from the little shop so they were an unfortunate color, and a tank undershirt.