Jean
It was impossible to find a few minutes of peace around here. The damn place was like Alola - too bright, too friendly, full of sickeningly jovial people who just wore down on his last nerve. 

Where's an ex-gangster to go for a moment of respite? Shady back alleys, of course. It wasn't perfect, even these places were a bit too clean, but it would do. 

Leaning back against the wall, Guzma looked up at the sky through the gaps between buildings as he let out a smoke-filled sigh, kicking his heel against the brick at his back, bored. He was gonna have to find some people to pester for donations sooner or later, but his social battery was running real fuckin' low in a place like this. He was irritated, bored, and itching for a fight. 

As frustrating as sparring with Hala and getting put on his ass six times in a row was, at least it let him vent and tire himself out. Right now he felt as if someone so much as looked at him wrong he'd blow up.
Anthony
It wasn't like Leon had anywhere particularly to go or anyone to meet. But the thrive of the plaza had him interested as he walked around with the same curiousity of an indecisive kid in a candy store. Although the plaza is quite the huge place, Leon wondered if there was more to it than the stores up front. In an island as big as a region, he'd hope there would be some secret tunnels and the such! And what without some exploring to do? But alas, as the rumors are *Probably* True, he got himself lost in one of the back alleyways. He's a competent trainer! Besides, relying on John for this kind of inconvenience is a hassle. It's a wonder how patient his buddy has been for so long.

It's a bit particular that a place that seems filled with activity would be so empty in its alleyways. Maybe it's in their mindset to think that's where all the bad people lurk—as if! But as Leon traverse, he found some walls looking recognizable. He swear he turned here before. Or was it there? Now his head starts milling with thoughts. Is it possible they made this place so that crooks get trapped from attempted robberies?! That's very clever, but here he is now. Trying to pace himself, hand to chin, thankfully, Leon spotted someone within the shadows of this confined space. Giving a yell, he waves as if the two were friends and rushed on over. 

"Hey there!" He slows down once nearing the stranger, unaware of anything that can go bad. "These alleyways are tricky, aren't they?" Trying to play it off, he scratch the back of his head in sincere apology in case he's bothering this person. "I might need some help, if you don't mind!" Unbeknownst to him was the rage of the other person, his own face shining with a smile.
Jean
Ah, yes. The peace of the back alleys, where indeed only the shady people lurked. And yet, despite all his efforts to look as shady as possible in an attempt to be left well alone, someone showed up anyway. 

The lanky man could practically hear the sunshine in the other's voice as he was called out to. Like so many other damn people in this forsaken place. His hands fell limp at his sides, one of them holding a cigarette between thumb and index finger. White hair brushed against brick as he tilted his head even further back, eyes like loaded stormclouds hidden behind shadowed lid. 

*"Uuuughhhh...!"* Guzma groaned out in annoyance, opening one eye and glancing at the guy who dared disturb his only moment of peace. Upon seeing the size of the dude, the other eye opened as well and he lifted his head to get a better look - only to look away again a moment later. 

"Tch. Get lost. I ain't in the mood." He grunted, raising his hand to drag on the cigarette once more. "I'm this fuckin' close to snappin' so I advise you take off 'fore I wipe that damn smile off your face."
Anthony
Leon didn't notice the cigarette before, and he personally disliked the smell. Seeing the smoke waft up when the other man took a drag made Leon fan his hand in front of his face. He still coughed from it, turning away. Leon might be densed but he can tell by demeanor and the tone of the other man's voice that he's an angry bloke... As of now. Is that why he's taking in that cigarette? "You know-" He coughs once more, turning away before facing the bleached haired individual again. "-you shouldn't smoke." When he thinks about how it effects him and Leon himself, he was more adamant about it. He knows Piers probably did it before. Heck, Raihan wanted to start. Leon doesn't see the fun of it. He frowned for a second, his head tilting from the threat of the other. 

His mouth is quicker than his mind sometimes. It came from him being a brat before. "I'm already lost so I can't really do that." He nervously chuckles afterwards, a second late in realizing that he admitted to be. Wanting to point out the other's habits, he points at the tube. "If you're stressed out, I suggest smoking isn't the answer." He coughs out once more, facing away like before. "How about a Pokémon battle to lessen that up? It's better then penting it up with some coffin nail." He's referring to the cigarette. Scratch that—Leon's words can be a bit blunt but he's obvious to it meaning any harm. But he really means it in the best way possible. Closer inspection, was this man a thug? Leon thought there wouldn't be them around here. Would he mean any trouble? Then the champ welcomes that. His arms are now crossed but they twitch in anticipation.
Jean
The coughing was a subtle enough hint that he was prepared to ignore it. Then the man had to open his mouth and give him a lecture about smoking. 

Guzma looked Leon up and down, taking him in and sizing him up. He looked pretty jacked, but he also looked fairly slow - and he clearly wasn't all that bright if he wasn't getting the hint. He liked those odds. 

He still wasn't shutting up about not smoking. 

Taking the last drag of his cigarette, Guzma held the smoke in his lungs for a moment while he dropped the end and ground it out under his scuffed up sneakers. Only then did he lift his head and blow the smoke directly into Leon's face, taking his weight off the wall and stepping in closer to him, getting up in his personal space and right up in his face. 

"Turn around. And walk away."
Anthony
The other stayed silent the whole time so Leon thought he got through to him. Well. He took that one drag but that was probably it. Grinding the stick under his foot, Leon was sure he was going to be lead out from this place. But that wasn't it. Instead, he got a face full of smoke and he coughed again, turning away like usual. That was rude but he was going to let it slide. That's how it is with certain people isn't it? But as soon as Leon turned back to face Guzma, their mugs were just inches apart. He heard his words.

But he didn't heed it.

He predicted this, but there's always the thought that it was going to turn out better. Smiling, he still has his hands crossed. "I won't," He says sternly but with that uplift in his voice still. "Someone's asking for your help. Why don't you?" This is when his arms begin to unfold and he grapples Guzma just under his armpits, leaning close to his ear. "Besides it's better than hiding in here, is it?" Leon didn't want to pick a fight but he'll try to refrain it. And sometimes that meant some intimidation. Right. Under that smile of his, Leon knows how to put his foot down.
Jean
I wont. 

Two simple words, enough to cause a dark grin to spread across Guzma's face. Oh, how he'd been hoping this idiot would say that. Didn't Hala always say he went looking for trouble? Well here he'd been, trying his best to avoid it, and yet it had found him anyway. You know what they say. Never look a gift Mudsdale in the mouth. 

Maybe for anyone else, they might have been intimidated by the six-foot guy and his... *Absurd* Pecs, but Guzma wasn't just your average guy. Nor did he want to be. Leon's first mistake was leaning in close to mutter in his ear, and he paid for it when the taller man tipped his head back, aiming to bring his forehead down on the bridge of his nose. He was a street rat, used to fighting dirty, and he didn't intend to change that now. He may have always kept his Pokemon battles just about legal, but here in the back alleys with nothing but bare fists and wits, he'd do whatever he had to.
Anthony
That hit to his nose might as well break his nose and Leon recoils back just as his hands slipped off from around Guzma. Taking a few steps back, his vision was blurry, his heart beating frenziedly in his chest. Normally anyone would be scared. That skull bash could've been enough to make someone pass out. The champ can already taste the iron and the a bit of copper at the tip of his tongue. He wipe his arm across his nose just in time to see blood. Instantly, he got worried—only because he thought what his friends would say. Leon, at this moment, doesn't care. Getting hit physically without a Pokémon battles is... Still just as exciting. "Aheh, you didn't have to get angry." He try cleaning off his nose and sighs. "Alright then."

Dropping his cape off his shoulders, Leon stretch his arms over his head. "You shouldn't just fight someone," He lectured, although his words are not matching with his actions as it looks like he's warming himself up. He looks Guzma up and down, his eyes, even in the shadows of the back alley, had a certain glare to them. Even with the baggy clothing, he can tell the *Thug* Means every bit of power he holds. He's going to try again reasoning with words before he has to reason with his *Fists*. "I'll let it go. How about, if you show me out, I'll treat you!" That same knowing smile is on his face, his head cocked to the side and his fists to his waist. He takes a slow step toward Guzma. Once again, his words sound nice, but his tone for "Treat" Begs to differ.
Jean
The brief moment of stars spinning in his head at the impact with his nose, the way the other steps back, the blood leaking from his nose and smearing across his face and up his arm... It's like the hit of a drug he's been unknowingly withdrawing from. It brings all his hard work to improve himself crashing down; undoes all of it - if only for a few minutes. 

Fuck, if it doesn't feel good. 

He'll regret this later, without a shadow of a doubt, but that was a problem for him to solve in the future. Right now, that didn't matter. Right now, he was high on adrenaline and the promise of pain, given and taken. 

Shifting his weight, Guzma widened his stance and lifted his fists like a boxer in the ring. With a little tilt of his head, he offered the champion his best predatory grin, steel eyes glinting with a primal excitement in the low light of the alley. "Kid, this *Is* A treat." He said with a brief laugh.
Anthony
For a second, Leon regretted getting so pumped up. But this was getting to be so much fun! The man isn't taking the bribery—which wasn't a complete *Bust.* Maybe it's because Leon is a bit angered, admittedly, at getting hit. He never feared or ever want to show his fear, so Guzma's threat from earlier only got his adrenaline rushing like the currents in a waterfall! He holds his hands up too. "Oh. Your treat then?" Planting a foot in front of himself and then twisting his body so that his right shoulder with his fist was facing the other, he gets into his stance. So the thug can box? Perfect! This is almost just like learning the different battle styles of trainers.

Just in a different sense now.

It's time to take the initiative. It's already set they were going to throw hands, so might as well make the fists go flying. Taking a few quick steps forward, it's not until he's close up that he places his foot down firmly and swings his left fist forward. Shifting his weight into the punch, Leon made sure he had some at the back of his heels in case to distance himself. "So who do I owe the honor? I'm Leon!" Introductions sounds as good as ever right now.
Jean
Oh boy, he's rusty. He can tell that immediately as he slips into position. It doesn't feel as natural as it once did, but the memory of it was definitely still there. It's been a while since he's punched anything that actually hits back, so this was definitely going to be an interesting one. 

Steel eyes follow the progression of the other as he moves forward. One, two, three steps, plant the foot - the swing is coming. What's his move? With a huff, Guzma leaned to the side and ducked down under the outstretched arm. By the time he came back up the other side, Leon was introducing himself. It's a little known fact that the subconscious thought that goes into forming sentences slows the reactions - that's why cops in movies always wait until the bad guy with a human shield opens his mouth before shooting. 

Naturally he followed their logic, throwing his right fist forward in a jab aimed directly at his jaw as it moved - maybe if he was really lucky he'd even bite his tongue. "Don't talk." The older man said quickly, taking half a step back to prepare for the next blow.
Anthony
There it is. No one would just stand there like a Sudowoodo, taking in a punch so he anticipated the attack. Talking was bad, yeah, Leon should've saved his breath. Since his weight wasn't entirely in that blow, he managed to shift his weight again, ducking to the side of the punch just barely. That got his cheek grazed, the blow making his eardrums pop. He takes this moment to follow up after that back step and grapple the extended arm of Guzma, holding it tight enough to place it over Leon's shoulder, his body twisting, to throw the other man over his shoulder. "O-KAY!" He shouts in more of a grunt as he attempted to lift the bleach haired man off his feet. The champ plants his foot in between Guzma's feet as a way to make him topple in case he starts kicking.
Jean
Oh, no. Guzma knew the instant his arm was grabbed that he was in trouble, but it didn't seem like there was a whole lot he could *Do* About it. "Mother fu-" He tried his best to jerk free, to kick at his opponent, but the buff guy was too strong - his wiry, lean frame wasn't much of a match. He was helpless to do much as he was lifted, but he did his best while he was there. 

Twisting, he tried his best to hook his arm around Leon's neck - he was definitely going to hit the floor, he couldn't prevent that, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try and bring him down too. 

A shout escaped him as he collided with the ground, the air forced from his lungs in a rush that left him winded and dazed. Despite that, he did his best to recover, rolling onto his hands and knees and clawing for a breath as he staggered back to his feet.
Leonard
Feeling the weight fall over, Leon was deeming this successful—and he was about to give this man a hard pound to the ground but then he felt himself getting choked. Basically having to hold his breath, the only way to make him let go was for him to take this hit. Just as soon as Guzma's body slammed into the ground, Leon smacked down just the same. He always have to try determine what's going to happen next and then bounce back from it. Even thought it still hurt. Unfortunately his breath was stolen from that choke hold, but he bounces back on his feet while the other staggered back up. He must take advantage of the moment!

Not wanting to give the other rest—since he started this!—Leon quickly followed up with his light footwork. He throw his feet forward to kick the other's knees, ready for him to topple. If he didn't keep himself moving, he'd feel the burden of his hits. His back felt on flames from hitting the not-so dusted off ground. Observing the other more, he doesn't seem to fight as much. Or at least. Not anymore. Assuming with someone looking like this, nearly breaking his nose, he thought he would be more well fit. "Tired?" He breathe out. Arceus knows how long he's going to go before he calls Uncle?
Jean
Tired? No. He was simply dazed for a moment, and seeing if he couldn't use that to try and lure Leon into a false sense of security. A false sense of security that almost got him put on his ass again as he kicked out at his knees. He jumped back, trying to think of his next move.

"Damn... You're quick, kid. Quicker than you look." 

He really was rusty. Arceus, what had happened to him? Tapu Koko would be disappointed if he couldn't even win a fight he had started. It had been too long since he'd fought like this, that was sure. Where was his primal rage? Where were all the anger issues he'd spent so long fighting? Hala would be proud - and that made him sick. 

There was conflict in his eyes for a brief moment. He wanted to be better, yet at the same time, he didn't. Some stubborn part of him just wasn't ready to let go yet. For all the good in his heart of hearts, the power trip was too alluring. He knew what he had to do. What he had to think of.

With a quick shake of his head, Guzma let out a yell and came at Leon *Fast*, charging at him with a fist raised to let fly with all the momentum he could build up.
Anthony
Like every time, Leon takes in the compliment. They're having fun, right? The more their bodies do the talking—fists, kicks, tackles—the more Leon has the sense of bonding. It's from his mind of being a good sport. He also heard that physical contact is a good form to connect with each other. "Not all of this is for show." He lets out a laugh, but his form still stands. His hand is out in front of him, palm open, but fingers pressed against each other, as a way of defense. Idle chatter makes it better. "Master would be disappointed if all I did was focus on my fists rather than my whole body." If both of them comes out of this fight less than a bleeding mess, Leon would offer his hand for this guy to be his training partner. 

There's a moment between the two, Leon's heart is pumping, his breathing heavy, but his smile seems stuck to his face. He's having absolute fun! The thrill of it is something he couldn't do back in Galar, obviously. Oleana gets him for that. As long as it's not the face, it should be fine. Oh. But there's that bloody nose thing so... That plan is over. He escapes from his thought when the sudden war cry exudes from the man across from him and the sudden rush got Leon's eyes widening. He was *Quick!* If Leon's eyes wasn't trained, he would've collided. Almost as if last minute, the champ pulls along by instinct. Getting in a more defensive stance, he ducks down and to the side, both hands to the ground to support himself, as his leg swings in a low sweep. He aimed high enough between the ankle and knees in case Guzma decides to last minute jump the attack.
Jean
He can't help it. Maybe part of him starts to kind of like the guy. He was clearly right - it wasn't all for show. If his reactions were anything to go by, he sparred far more often than he did. Unfortunately (hopefully) for Leon, that did only add fuel to the fire, though. This time last year, he wouldn't have had much of a problem beating his ass. 

Maybe that was the problem. He was trying to fight clean. Since when had he done that in a fist fight? And why was he trying to do it now? 

As soon as Leon disappeared from view, he knew he was going to go down again. *Again.* Just like with the old man. "No!" He yelled, managing to flail and grab hold of a drain pipe attached to the wall, keeping himself on his feet and lashing out with the entire sole of his foot, aiming for what he hoped was the other's stomach. Or lower - in fact, that was probably better. He'd be willing to bet the younger male had mad abs under that shirt. *"I won't go down again!"*
Anthony
This guys has quick reflexes! Leon's always the one saying utilize his surrounding but here he is: getting juked. The problem was, he *Didn't* Know there was something on the wall for the other to cling on! When that foot came flying, Leon's hands flew up from the ground just as fast as it came. But aside from it softening the blow, he still got hit. Like a shock through his body, Leon fell back on his arse since he wasn't holding himself up anymore. He grit the back of his jaw as he felt it coursing through his body. That kick was just between his stomach and groin but even that much was enough to make him want to hurl. He didn't expect this. With how much the other was flailing his kicks, it was probably by mistake. Still, it was a really low move.

*"Get up! Get up!"* He screamed at himself in his mind. Despite his knees feeling jelly and his stomach twisting in knots, Leon pushed off from Guzma so that he can distance himself. But, he forgot how narrow the back alleys is, so his back hits against a wall. This is fine. Super. He's a little disappointed at himself for almost getting haggard just because his nuts was near neutered by a kick. Using the wall, he gets himself up standing again, fists in front of his face to defend for any following attacks. He'll have to depend on grappling and dodging for now until he's cool down. More importantly, he has to try subduing this man. Leon can notice the difference between the two fighting style. He's defensive. The other is offensive.

Either way, it still stands. No matter what, Leon hates to lose.
Jean
Well, that was one thing they had in common. Guzma couldn't stand losing. He'd been getting better at taking losses in Pokémon battles, sure, but this whole situation just threw him back into his darkest days where he'd do whatever it took to win, no matter how dirty. 

So when Leon was still trying to recover, he made his move. Letting go of the wall, he curled his hands into fists and straightened himself up, quickly closing the gap between them. The guy still looked like he hadn't quite got over it yet, despite his attempts to defend. And Guzma had him up against the wall - literally. 

Going for his face right now wouldn't do much good when he was blocking it - so instead he went for the gut. A solid punch to the stomach *Might* Just be enough to get him to double over, combined with the residual feeling of almost being kicked in the balls. And if it was, well. Who would he be to turn down the opportunity to throw him down on the ground?
Anthony
Of course he would take advantage of him being pressed up like a snared Ratatta. This really wasn't looking good for Leon. He gasps out from the hit to the stomach. It hurt as much as a clean hit to the gut would. But Leon used this close quarter chance to grapple Guzma just as he planned. Being thrown down to the ground, Leon once again clings onto him. One arm around Guzma's arm, and the other with his hand at the collar of Guzma's jacket. Leon was the one getting excited before so why was he holding back? There's him wanting to be a good son, but once before, losing doesn't sit well in his stomach—that and that near crotch hit from before. 

He made sure to grip harder even with the collision of the ground. He had Sharpedo nipping at his feet before. This shouldn't be much! Although even in the midst of this, Leon give kudos to the thug. He's got power. Guzma pointed out before that Leon is quick, so he should prove it even more. Yanking Guzma down by the collar, he frees his arm from before and throws an uppercut at the other man's chin, hoping that would make his skull rattle. Leon was already anticipating for the next attack if this one hits or misses. He's sore, but looking forward to what's going to happen next got his mind busy. His master once told him to dissociate his mind from his body and then the aches wouldn't hurt much at all. Obviously easier said than done, but Leon had learned that since a long time. How else could he just stand there before slowly realizing his head was burning from a misfire in one of his Pokémon battles?
Jean
"Son of a *Bitch!"* He yelled, unable to keep himself from being dragged down again too.

Just a few moments ago, her been struggling to find the rage that had fuelled him for years. All if a sudden, it was back with a vengeance. The seething red-hot fury of getting his was beat and wanting - no, *Needing* To one up the other guy was back. Rage burned the fuel that was his own inability to succeed until he glowed like hot metal. His own willingness to hand himself over to it, to absolutely *Lose his shit* Was terrifying. But it was also comfortable, in a weird kind of way. It was familiar. He knew this feeling. He could rely on this feeling. No matter what changed, this raw anger would always be somewhere inside him. It was a poor excuse of a constant, but he'd take what he could get. 

Adrenaline and anger were wonderful painkillers. If not for them, he maybwell have been in agony right now, after slamming into the ground as hard as he had earlier. But no, right now he was all instinct, all lightning reflexes and aggression. His head jerked to the side just in time to avoid the uppercut, knuckles grazing his cheek. Quickly, he turned back, his lip curled back like a feral Lycanroc as he gripped Leon by the shirt in his left hand and used the right to throw punches.
Anthony
Leon was sure his succession in moves—how they transitioned to the next, hitting or not—would be an element of surprise. Being able to shake off the attacks and then complete his auto run is what made Leon quite the rough houser. But this man above him move so instinctively as if the two were in a dance. As if they both choreographed this. After taking a few of those punches, which Leon had to chomp down real hard on his teeth to take them, he stopped anymore with his own hand, holding the fist of his opponent. "You...!" He grimaced through his teeth.

He was starting to get frustrated, his brows digging so deep in his eyes. Before Guzma could switch off to use his left hand to punch, Leon raises up his leg to attempt kneeing Guzma in the stomach before using the ounce of strength he has to throw him off him. Thanks to those muscles of his, it served as padding to an extent. Leon swears if he was nothing but all bones, he'd be on the ground coughing still . It seems this thug was planning to fight to the death after all. That smile made him think he was battling a Pokémon for a second. It reminded him of his training sessions with his own Pokémon. For some reason, this enthused him even more. If throwing him off was successful, Leon would get up on his feet, readying his back to his stance once more. He can't show the other that he's weakened.
Jean
For the first time in years, Guzma felt like he was really *Alive*. Some thing about the back and forth of a fight was too satisfying - the give and take here was so well matched that it was almost like another kind of instinctive dance. Better, even. 

Or it would be, if the guy would *Hit* Him already. 

The knee in his stomach winded him again (he didn't have nearly as much muscle for padding), then suddenly he was sprawling on his side, not entirely sure what happened between the events. Had he been thrown? He must've... 

With a groan, Guzma slowly pushed himself back up, first into his hands and knees. That last one hurt something in his shoulder, the movement of it sending jolts of pain singing through him as he got back to his feet with a laugh. 

"I like you, Leon. Name's Guzma." He rolled his shoulder and let out a groan at the resulting stab of pain. "You ain't never gonna win a fight on defence, y'know. *So come hit me already!"* The taller man taunted, holding his head at an angle as if in invitation. He didn't want to come away from this without shedding a little blood.
Anthony
The champ has to admit that he was getting beaten in this. Street fighting to his martial arts are such different fighting styles yet *The other* Can keep up. But maybe it's because Master Mustard emphasized Leon using it as a way of self defense than for outright combat. Probably why his moves are passive too, not really involving a hit to the noggin. Ah, well, there's the offensive too—why else would he had such ruthless trainings then?

He finally revealed his name. Leon sighs through his nose and smiles warmly now. "Guzma, it's nice to meet you!" Now he can finally finished what he was getting at too. "*I'm* The champion of Galar!" Liking means he's having fun, too, isn't he? At least he doesn't seem grumpy anymore. A little horse playing always seem to do the trick! Anyway, the thug man was right. Leon *Has* Been staying on the defensive. "I didn't want to hurt you," He said, split between that being true and false. "Besides, winning isn't all about hitting an opponent until they're unconscious. It's also—" And then he suddenly breaks into a sprint, his arms swinging at his sides to build up the momentum. One second already he was in front of Guzma, and then the Galarian jumps up, his legs wrapping around the others man's neck. "-when they give in." He twists himself quickly around, so that it looked like he's riding Guzma's shoulders.

That's when the squeeze from his inner thighs came in. Leon tries pressing hard against Guzma's neck, focusing on the carotid artery.
Jean
Guzma raised his eyebrows as he mentioned being the champion of Galar. That was... Unexpected, but it widened his grin all the same. He was throwing hands with a champion. Him. Guzma. The low-life thug. Fighting a champion. Oh, that felt good. 

"Don't wanna hurt me?" He snorted. "But I *Want* You- shit!" He definitely wasn't prepared for the height in that jump, nor the way he got a face-full of champion crotch, the weight of the bulky man toppling him easily. He barely even had time to stagger, his high centre of gravity causing him to fall backwards before he could even react. 

*"Fuck,"* He wheezed, hands coming up to grasp at the thighs around his neck as he lay on the ground, half strangled and dazed, head spinning as he clawed at the legs that held him. "If you wanted to give me a face full of dick, you coulda just asked..." He gasped, closing his eyes and going still. 

Adrenaline, pain, excitement, *Being choked with some admittedly glorious thighs*... It was all a bit much. Fighting wasn't at the forefront of his mind all of a sudden, instead his thoughts grappling with the most depressing thing he could think of on the spot.