Chiron Academy

Chapter 17: Asking Permission

Wyatt made his way slowly over the intervening space between him and Achilles, trying to pick his words he would say carefully.  

What was the best way to ask Achilles? Maybe something to put him at ease.

Hey, Achilles. What's up, bro?"  Wyatt tried on the words mentally, mulling them over in his mind.

"How is ... teaching treating you, ... man?"

The small structure was not original to the building. It was a rough cement affair as was the building, but the gym's walls and floor were a noticeably darker shade, a sign of the building's age. This was especially evident in the places where the building had been frequently peopled over the years. The floor in front of the large entrance at the front of the structure was noticeably soiled from foot traffic or maybe even vehicles. Its wide mouth seemed like it must be able to accommodate a few semi's at once.

The new concrete enclosure was by comparison a very light and clean grey. As Wyatt got closer he could see it held it's back wall was lined with racks, which held various equipment: weight balls sat idly next to a bag of boxing pads. All of the equipment, like the room itself, looked brand new. Wyatt presumed they had all been bought specifically for the school.  

"Excuse me, Mr. Achilles, sir."

Maybe it was better to stick with just Achilles. He didn't want it to be too weird.

"What's up, Achilles? I've got a question for yo-"

"Hey, Wyatt. What can I do for you, man?" Achilles called out to him across the distance between them. "You wanna check something out?"

This caught Wyatt of guard. He'd expected a few more yards to think about what exactly he was going to say.

What was it he was going to say again? The words had all leaked out of his head.

Achilles was seated backward on a shiny folder chair, his chest leaning against the backrest. In his robotic hand, he held one of the school supplied phones. Its sleek design seemed at odds with the bulky build of the arm. 

"Not right now, thanks," Wyatt managed, answering Achilles' question.

"Oh, cool," Achilles replied, his eyes drifting back down the glowing screen of his phone. He moved his metal thumb up, scrolling lazily downwards. It must not have taken the first time because he had to repeat the action a few times. 

"I was wondering..." Wyatt began. 

"Yup," Achilles responded, not looking up from the screen.

"Well, it's just that you said we could-"

Wyatt was cut off again when Achilles sprung from the chair, arms raised in triumph.

"WE DID IT!" he cried. "' Patriots trample competition, 32-6'. Tom Brady, you are a god among men."

Wyatt was taken aback. It certainly didn't seem like Achilles was not aware of his presence, let alone anyone else in the room. He scanned the large room's other occupants.  No one seemed to react to Achilles outburst.

Was everyone else unaware that the man in charge of supervising them was not paying attention to the room? Wyatt certainly hoped no one was dropping a barbell on themselves at the moment.

Regardless, this brief silence, as Achilles stood engrossed by sports clips, was his best chance to finally approach him.

"I was... sort of wondering," he broke into the silence," if we... could... ummm... do some sparring?"