Smashing!

Cordova 
#1
outfit! plus protective gear


 Sometimes a state of zen could not quite be achieved through stillness and quiet. Suri had found this to be true especially as a person who shared brain space with an animal, no matter how small and unassuming it might be. The morning found her restless, not soothed by any usual method of hot tea or a slow cigarette or sitting in silence. So, with no work or other obligations ahead of her for the day, she'd found herself a rage room.

 The sun was bright as it filtered through the chain link ceiling, pouring down on the woman as she pulled on comically large armor that was meant to protect her body from whatever object she sought to destroy. Her victim today was a large, old television set, and a pile of not-so-fine china, and her weapon would be a good old-fashioned baseball bat. She was already rolling with excitement before she even closed the flimsy chicken wire door.

 Suri found a familiar grip on the bat, thinking of her childhood and all the times she'd stood there, waiting to crack a ball out of the field. She was a different person now, in a different situation with much more strength than she could hope to measure. This television set was toast. And so, with a shout of release, she twisted her body to bring the edge of the bat into the screen, sending shards of glass flying into the other caged "rooms" on her first strike.
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#2
Day off, hello there. Normally it was the sort of time that Eli would have spent doing something significantly more mundane, like grocery shopping or going over the files he hadn't had time for during the week or maybe like... well, not this.

This, as it turned out, was something of a regret. The coyote demanded some fashion of action, which was fine. Eli hadn't felt like going out on four legs today, what with a turn of weather. So that meant... either eating himself to death--which he did basically every day anyway, he swore--, finding himself a lady--HAH!--, or fighting something.

As a general rule, Eli as a person did not care much for fighting. Hurting people wasn't really what he was about, for all he did it sometimes anyway. The idea of battering on some poor person for no reason other than his beast was restless didn't appeal to him so much. For all he was a grouch in some ways, his maliciousness did not take delight in random acts of violence. Against people.

Or objects, as it was turning out?

He'd half-heartenedly dented a photocopier and was mostly just standing there trying to figure out if he had it in him to do more when the spray of glass from the next space over made him flinch. He looked across to the woman who was significantly more into this than he felt from the looks of her, and almost laughed when he realized--

"That didn't stand a chance!"

Hopefully she wouldn't stop just because she had an audience now. He found himself a lot more inclined to watch than participate.
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#3
 It was hard to smell the scent of Special Dog over the old sweat in this helmet from whoever had last worn it. She had felt the presence, but it had taken a back seat to the act of destroying an inanimate object. Only when he called out did she look up at him, grinning beneath the helmet and glancing down at his photocopier. It looked relatively unscathed!

 She raised the bat again for another satisfying smash, blowing a chunk of metal out of it that flew against the fence and clattered back to the ground. Looking to the man again, she gestured to his victim. "Show that old piece of junk who's boss, man," she called out, encouraging. Then, she lifted the bat again, slamming it into the quickly-deteriorating television.
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#4
Watching her was helpful. Maybe he was being too self-conscious about this? Silly, considering. But she had that fabled strength in her arms and didn't seem to mind who might notice. Truly, in here... was anyone even really watching? Probably not. Right? Like, if all this was was destroying metal and plastic and... china, based on what she had in her square...

Don't make a fool of yourself in front of a woman willing to wield a baseball bat like a murder weapon!

So, rolling back on his heels and sucking a quick breath through his teeth, he brought the bat up, then down again on the photocopier, listening to something crack inside, before deciding mashing on plastic was less satisfying than glass, so with the tip of his own aluminum bat he lifted the lid. The glass was already cracked but... it was about to be much moreso.

It didn't even take that hard of a hit to shatter the whole panel, and he retreated several steps with a nervous sort of laugh like the photocopier was going to strike back.
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#5
 Now that he was on her radar, Suri couldn't help but watch him as he rallied himself for the attack. It was hard to catch any peripheral glimpses with this head gear, so that meant she'd have to pause to really watch him. He struck it once, then opened the lid, going for the glass. "Yeah!" she shouted at him, raising a fist as if they were fans at some intense spectator sport.

 For all she'd encouraged him, the energy seemed to circulate back to her, and she stepped over, dropping the bat to pull a plate from the stack and smash it under her heel. It shattered with a loud snap, and her foot crushed through to the pavement, sending a shock wave back up to her hip. If only this cage was a little bigger, and she could throw it against something for another flavor of satisfaction.
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#6
Who--and what, really--was this feline woman? Her enthusiasm for the wanton destruction of machinery was some absurd mixture of terrifying and emboldening. Her hollering at least brought the coyote up from wherever he'd been lurking, disenchanted with violence that had no blood and no prize to eat at the end. But the rally of another were... small but powerful? That was all he was getting right now. It was oddly inciting.

Toeing some of the glass on the ground--there wasn't much, since most of it had gone into the machine instead--he watched her with the china and sort of wished he had some. But no, he'd gone big and nothing else, so maybe he just...

Thump. The swing this time was another half-hearted one, sideways and underhand with the bat on the side of the equipment. The corner plastic cracked and it rolled slightly on its wheels.
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#7
 Suri watched the man barely tap the photocopier, and she shook her head a little. Some people just weren't into it, maybe? Or more like, most people weren't used to just... balls-to-the-wall destroying things. She leaned her bat against the fence and pulled off her helmet - which was probably not allowed - and hooked the fingers of one hand to rest against a wire diamond in the chain-link.

 "Do you want me to come in there and show you how it's done?" She called, good-naturedly, with a grin. It was then that she realized this was the man giving off Were vibes and dog smell! A look of realization bloomed on her face. That photocopier should have been toast by now, damn it!
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#8
He glanced at her again, feeling perpetually silly but unable to get and keep a foothold for enthusiasm. "I think it may have bested me," he admitted. Realizing she was actually conversing with him instead of just in between moments of murdering her own man-made rejects, he let the bat fall in an arc down by his side, hanging loosely as he walked closer to her.

"Maybe I was a photocopier in another life and I can't betray my kin. Stranger things have happened."

Babbling was a good way to cover up how ridiculous one felt.
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#9
 Dog Were, zero, photocopier, one, then. Suri grinned at him a little more widely, eyes narrowing against the rise of her cheeks. Dark eyes moved past him for a moment to glance at the old equipment again as he came closer and spoke again, and she shook her head a little. "You may be comforted to know that photocopiers are not included in the cycle of rebirth," she informed him lightly. "What're you afraid of?"
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#10
He laughed in spite of himself, and also at himself.

"Nothing, I guess! Well... maybe just... scared of breaking it." The pause was brief before he raised a hand to interject the inevitable scorn, no matter how well meant it might be. "I'm sorry, okay, I know I'm supposed to break it, but I just spend so much time trying to not break things, this is just counter to my character."
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#11
 His answer evolved quickly, and Suri might have pounced on him for not wanting to break anything, but allowed him room to explain. She grinned toothily at him. "Do you mean your work rotates around not breaking things, or just a general life habit?"
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#12
She was a grinner. Grinners were dangerous.

"I mean, yes, both. Not that I'm an eggshell inspector or something, but--" He waved his free hand.

Imagine breaking things at a pediatric office. Disasterous idea. The children, especially. Don't think about it! The fact that the coyote perked up a little at passing horror thought was enough to make him turn it back to her.

"Let me guess, you're in demolition and you moonlight as a bull in a china shop?"
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#13
 He revealed that it was indeed both, without going into any detail at all, really. The question was turned back onto her, and she shook her head with a little chuckle. "Nah. Bar tender. But breaking things in my job is also generally frowned upon." She pressed herself off of the fence, knocking the helmet in her hand against her knee with a careful look around, making sure they were out of earshot of anyone else. When she turned back to him, her voice was lower as she offered a question. "What are you, exactly? Wolf?"
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#14
"Oh, but I can just see you having fun with a row of bottles," he said, conversational and embracing it mostly because it meant no one was expecting him to take another swing right now. When she asked after his 'identity' he quirked a brow and glanced about as well. In close to the chain link he said, "Close cousin. A little bit more wily." Ya get it? He hoped she got it. He could have just said it, but he was a bit curious to see if she drew the lines on her own.
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#15
 A row of bottles could certainly be fun, but too much a mess to be worth it. She rose her eyebrows in amusement all the same, and they went up a little more as she put two and two together. A were... coyote, was it? That was no more unusual than her own particular breed. Far less so, actually. "Oh. I see." Her smile was smaller now, but no less real. "Why don't you just pretend the photocopier is a road runner, then?" A little teasing that went hand in hand with what was meant to denote she got his drift.
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#16
Pleased with her basic deductive skills. "Meep meep," he said and glanced to the photocopier as if he could suddenly imagine it. "I don't know, not enough feathers and it's pretty slow." He tapped the bat towards the chain link fence, the tip hitting low to the ground. "I have no idea what your prey of choice is, but you are really on an impressive warpath." He had no idea what she was. Up close he was pretty sure she was a cat of some fashion. But it was small? He couldn't even think of a small wild cat other than a... bobcat or something. But that didn't seem right.
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#17
 His reasoning was hardly far fetched. Her eyes flickered down to the bat against the fence, then back up to his face, and then over her shoulder to the television and shattered china. "Simple pleasures," she said almost playfully, shrugging her shoulders as she looked to him again. Better an object than a person! "Have you ever heard of black footed cats?"
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#18
That got him quirking another brow. "Literally never once in my entire life." Unless she meant cats with black feet, which he really doubted, considering the context of the conversation. "Though I supposed that changed just now. Not native to the great wide plains of the mid-west, I take it?"

Keep talking, then she won't encourage you to mentally put a beak and some tail feathers on office machinery.
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#19
 No surprise there. Suri's mouth curled into another little smile, and she reached to finagle her phone from her pocket, made more difficult with her primitive body armor. "Africa, apparently," she informed him as she tapped around her screen, turning it toward him so that he might see a Google image of her own beast's natural counterpart. She wondered if he'd seen Parker on the news, and if this would ring a bell. "Great things come in small packages."
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#20
He looked at the image, but the connection between the small strange cat on the news and this image with this woman wasn't made in that moment, and he mostly was just impressed by the... house-cattiness of the feline he was presented with. "Don't ever write off the little ones," he said agreeably. "Pretty sure you could kick my butt." The man said this, but the coyote protested giving up any top dog vibes to this woman or anyone else.

He sighed and straightened up with a chuckle in his throat. Littler creatures had a lot to prove, so he knew better than to judge about that.
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