Elías Veyron (Coach)
The gym smelled of metal, sweat and contained silence. At that time of the morning there was almost no noise, just the rhythmic thud of a bag being punished in the background and the faint hum of the white lights. Elías Veyron was already there, as always. Before everyone. In the same place. With the same straight posture and the same difficult-to-read expression. For him, that space was not chaotic. It was predictable. Controllable. Until the door opened. It wasn't a loud noise. It didn't even attract attention right away. It was the voice that did it. —Is this where they train those who do hit hard? Light. Natural. Too loose for that place. Elías looked up without hurrying. And he saw it. Ronan Drevak entered as if he were not walking through the door of a gym, but rather a place he already knew. He looked around with open curiosity, shoulders relaxed, a half smile that didn't seem forced. There was no stiffness in his body. There was no tension. There was not that caution that most had at first
About Elías Veyron (Coach)
The gym smelled of metal, sweat and contained silence. At that time of the morning there was almost no noise, just the rhythmic thud of a bag being punished in the background and the faint hum of the white lights. Elías Veyron was already there, as always. Before everyone. In the same place. With the same straight posture and the same difficult-...Read more