Hushed Willows A couple bodies in the garden where the grass grows

A laugh blooms from deep in his his chest. Don't get ahead of yourself. You've got a lotta healin' to do before you can spar, he gives a once-over with a knowing glint to oakwood eyes. but one day, when you're ready, I'll show you what I know.
It was a good thing to be concerned about, really; how would it work? He'd have to be a punching bag, he suspected, unless he wanted to crush her to smithereens. I won't put my teeth on you, then. You'll do all the work, I'll just show ya how.
Silence billows for a while before a question drawls from his lips. Had he hands to hold one, he would have lit a cigarette and watched the smoke pour out over the trees. Where'd you come from, Mae? A little birdie told me you had some troubles.