Dancing and Dissension

• The ballerina With a Staring Problem •

Harry wiped the sweat from his brow, popping his mouth guard out and tucking it away in his bag. He swiped through his messy curls, exhaling as he took in his appearance in front of a small cracked mirror in his studio bathroom. He poked at his bottom lip, which was slightly swollen and bleeding from his match that ended just a few moments ago. He winced a bit, before leaning over the sink and rinsing his face the best he could. Even when Harry moved up from security of the building to owner status, he refused to let that stop him from pursuing his own career in boxing. Nowadays he manages the entire studio on his own, while participating in a match around four times a week. Dodging fists and blacking out from the adrenaline was his favorite pastime. Louis on the other hand; Louis was /different./ He was soft, kind, always stuck out amongst his peers growing up, never really fitting in until he found his passion. It was the day he attended his sisters dance recital, becoming instantly engulfed in the fashion, music, choreography, all of it. It didn't take him long to convince his mother to let him join in dance classes as well. As the years went by, he found himself frequenting an underrated ballet studio, where he learned the basics of ballet and how to train your body to move in the intricate ways to music that he always adored watching others do. He was just finishing up practice, laughing and carrying on with his instructor before shucking his bag over his shoulder and bidding her a polite goodbye. He made his way out of the building, making his usual route to his vehicle when he spotted a stranger leaving the building directly across from him. He looked a mess, honestly; curls dampened with sweat, his lip bloodied and still shirtless, walking with the sort of look on his face that would put people off immediately. Truth is, Harry is rather brutish, not being one for friendliness or meaningless social interactions. He popped a cigarette between his lips, lighting it up and taking a moment to enjoy his smoke when he spotted a dainty looking fellow from across the way staring at him. They met glances, and against every innate instinct inside of him, Harry held up his hand only halfway to wave for a moment. Harry's face was unchanged, sort of neutral and uninterested. He could tell this bloke was different, he just looked... soft. Something about him had him frozen in place, puffing off of his cigarette and taking in the lads appearance. Harry had known about the ballet studio across from him for years, but had only ever seen women leaving the building. He wondered why he'd never spotted the blue eyed ballerina with a staring problem before.

Louis' cheeks flushed lightly as he realized the man was looking back at him, seemingly uninterested but he raised his hand in a wave anyways. He would take that as a win, a small victory, but a victory no less. He couldn't take his eyes away, no matter how hard he tried. He was curious and the sight of him bloodied and shirtless only drew him in more. He raised a hand and waved back to be polite, shooting him a soft smile as well. He wasn't quite sure what to do now that they'd seen each other, but he'd feel bad if he didn't at least introduce himself to the man. "Hi, you okay?" He asked him curiously from across the street, nodding towards the man's bloody lip. He was well aware the building was a boxing studio, but he knew he'd feel bad if he just walked away without asking the new face. "I'm Louis, part of the studio here." He introduced and waved a hand towards the building, even if it was obvious to the other man already.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at the questioning, already forgetting that he was in fact bleeding from the previous match. He swiped at his lip, looking at the crimson on his finger tips for a moment before sloppily swiping it off against the material of his shorts. He took a pause for another drag from his smoke before he responded to the boy. "I'm fine, bloke," a soft half smile managed to peek out from his blunt expression for just a moment. "Was fighting, s'my studio," he gestured towards the worn down building behind him. He looked around at the quiet city surrounding them, before deciding to take a few steps forward heading in the direction across the street towards Louis. He paused a few feet away. "Harry," he considered for a moment going by his first initial, or maybe an alias. He didn't particularly enjoy being known, but this fellow looked relatively harmless. He flicked the cigarette from his mouth and snuffed it out with the tip of his shoe. His eyes flitted from the building behind him, back to his face. "You dance? I've only seen ladies come in and out this place. S'impressive," his glance scanned over Louis' body, from head to toe, as if sizing him up. He knew dancers had endurance, and couldn't help but wonder already if he had potential to be a fighter. He didn't give himself time to over think his next move, and reached for a pen that was poking out slightly from a pocket on Louis' tote bag. He then fished out a fresh cigarette, scribbling his number along the side. "Call me if you want to do something a little more valuable with your time," he chuckled only slightly, before handing the cigarette over for Louis to palm.