Lonnie

One of Lonnie's favorite things is sparring with Jay. He doesn't hold back or treat her any differently because she's a girl. She's sure it's because he grew up with girls like Mal and Evie, who she's sure can destroy most (if not every) boy on the tourney team. He probably didn't have everyone in the world telling him that he needed to be a gentleman, and treat girls a certain way- treat them like a delicate flower.

His blows are powerful and jarring, and it makes her actually have to try. She's sweating so badly that her shirt sticks to her skin, making movements uncomfortable and constricting. So in the next pause of their bout, she just takes it off.

Jay's eyes widen, and she expects the boy to immediately start flirting (his normal reaction to everyone regardless of having boobs or not), but his invigorated expression closes down as he darts his eyes in every direction of the gym.

"What are you doing? Anyone can come in."

Lonnie snorts. "Chill, dude. We aren't doing anything wrong. And, what, if people do think something untoward of us, you think it's going to ruin your reputation?"

Jay darts a confused glance at her, which confuses Lonnie in turn. "What?" he asks. Then shakes his head and points his sword at the shirt in her hand. "Whatever. You should put that back on; you don't know who could take advantage of you being exposed like that. Especially someone like me."

Lonnie rolls her eyes, irritated that misogyny appears to be able to touch even the Isle. It's also hilarious, and a little bit sad, that he thinks she might believe he could be one of those people. He's a terrible flirt, but he's never actually crossed anyone's boundaries. It's more of a personality trait than it is something he does in all sincerity.

"I trust you, idiot," she rolls her eyes at him. She doesn't like this version of him, oh-so-concerned about her 'virtue.' She wants him to go back to being her kick-ass friend who isn't afraid of hurting her, or letting her fight her own battles.

Her words do have an affect on him, but it's not one she was hoping for, or expecting. His expression changes, turning even harder as his shoulders square and his eyes go back to watching the doors.

His fighting even changes when they go back to sparing. His moves are more precise. Less strong, but no less difficult to deflect. And the entire time, his eyes keep darting around like his attention is only half on the fight Lonnie is struggling to keep up with.

Maybe she was wrong about him holding back, but if that's so, he's been holding back with everyone.

The next time she falls to the mat, she doesn't get up. She lays there panting and sore and even sweatier than when she decided to remove her shirt. "Fuck," she huffs, trying to catch her breath.

He looks down at her, and then just kind of stares. His eyes dip below her face and trace along all her exposed skin. He's a guy- she expected it from him- but his eyes on her don't feel… like he's checking her out.

It's assessing and slightly confused, like what he's seeing doesn't make sense at all.

"You don't have any-" he starts, and then stops suddenly. He blinks, and then his cheeks darken slightly as he shakes his head and averts his eyes. "Nevermind."

"What," Lonnie pants. He's acting weird and she doesn't like it.

"Nothing," He says, moving to put up his sword. "I guess I just forgot I was in Auradon for a moment, and that things are different here."

From what Lonnie has heard and observed of her new Isle friends, that is a huge understatement. She wonders how he can possibly forget where he is at, and what, just now, was the thing that was so different.

"Is it the shirt thing?" she guesses. That's when he started acting weird. "What, when girls pull their shirts off, they usually throw themselves at you instead of trying to stab you?" she tries to joke. She imagines him being a bit of a ladies man on the Isle- a bit of a manwhore (she doesn't mean it in a negative way- she totally likes Jay, and she doesn't think there is nothing wrong with sleeping around as long as all parties consent).

"Outside of crews, people don't really go around exposing themselves to anyone. It's dangerous to show skin. It's like a taunt, or a dare, saying you don't think anyone can hurt you." He busies himself straightening all the swords on the rack, then lifts the front of his shirt to wipe at his face. It rides a few inches up his back, exposing a splash of discolored skin that makes things in Lonnie's chest jolt uncomfortably.

She lurches to her feet, body hot. "I don't have any, what?" she asks, recalling his aborted statement. It suddenly feels a lot more important that she gets the answer. She takes a step toward him, and he turns. "Before- what were you talking about? I don't have any, what?"

His posture relaxes to slouch against the wall. "Doesn't matter."

"Scars," Lonnie guesses, not pausing in her approach. "Take off your shirt."

His smile widens to a grin, his eyebrows doing a suggestive wiggle. "Why Lonnie, I didn't know you felt that way. I'm flattered and all, but-"

"I'm not kidding," Lonnie cuts in, frustrated with his evading, and her brain buzzing, and reaches out to pull his shirt up. She barely manages to lift it before one of his hands snaps out and hits her in the chest so hard that she goes sprawling to the ground unable to breathe. There is no smile, now.

He curses, "Fuck," and kneels down beside her. "I- shit. You okay? Fuck."

It takes several attempts to suck in any air. It hurts. She hadn't even seen him move. Lonnie stares at him with wide eyes as his hands hover over her without touching. Despite looking so concerned, he doesn't apologize. And he shouldn't. She likes that about the Isle kids- how they don't apologize for every little thing- for things not their fault. And this wasn't his fault. She definitely overstepped.

"Sorry," Lonnie gets out. She's going to bruise. Badly. He's definitely been holding back. Jay blinks at her, surprised, and then warry, so she elaborates. "I shouldn't have tried to do that. You just told me that exposure isn't something you did on the Isle. It was wrong of me and I'm sorry."

"Oh." He shifts on his toes, and then straightens up as the relaxed, teasing, air returns to him, like his mood hadn't just done a 180. "No biggie. I'm used to girls wanting me so bad they can't keep their hands to themselves."

"Right," Lonnie says, taking his offered hand and letting him pull her to her feet. She stares at him a moment, trying to read him- really read him- before deciding to try again. "Can I please see your scars?"

He hesitates, eyes darting to the door again, before sighing and lifting his shirt a bit. "They're just scars," he huffs, sounding exasperated, but his muscles remain tense as Lonnie stares. "Everyone has them."

He's covered in them. It looks wrong. Like the times she'd walk in on one of her parents in the middle of changing. Only Jay is 15 years old and never fought in a war. He only lived on the Isle. An Isle where the people who gave her parents those marks were also banished.

Were any of those marks caused by the Huns? Has he ever run into one of the subjects of her parents nightmares, even after all these years.

Lonnie breaks her gaze when the shirt drops back over the exposed skin, covering it from her view.

It's hard to meet his eyes again, but she forces herself to. "Thank you for trusting me," she says, instead of apologizing like she instinctively wants to do. She doesn't think he'd take the pity very well.

He shrugs, glancing away. "Yeah, well-" his eyes come back, mouth twisting back into a teasing smile, and she anticipates his next words, "it's not like you can actually hurt me."

Lonnie takes a step back, suppressing a smile as she finally lets the heaviness fall away while she narrows her eyes. "Give me a few more weeks and you won't be talking so big."

He lets out a barking laugh, back to the old Jay she's come to know. "I'll believe it when I see it. You Auradon princes and princesses are so prissy all 'after you,' 'no, after you old chum.'"

"'M not a princess," Lonnie bares her teeth at the familiar tease, and lets herself momentarily forget about the Isle and the marks it left behind on her friend.

A/N: These aren't necessarily in chronological order. Anyway, please let me know what you think!

~Silver~