<span style="font-style: italic">I probably have stronger wrists than you.</span><br/><br/>Xander snorted and rolled his eyes in response, a dozen snappy retorts coming to his tongue but he bit them back, instead looking very pointedly at her bare hands. “Somehow I very much doubt that.” Holding up his arm he tapped the velcro on his wrist and looked up, narrowing his eyes at her. “I know what I’m doing. You, on the other hand? Clearly don’t.” He honestly didn’t have time for reckless little idiots right now. If she wanted to destroy her wrists that was her business, not his. And yeah sure she was nice to look at but the second she’d opened her mouth she had put him off. Honestly, he had thought he was doing her a favour, imparting a tiny piece of advice. Not everyone had the level of training or knowledge he did. Shouldn’t have bothered. Setting his mouth in a grim line he set his sights once more on the sand bag in front of him.<br/><br/>Jesus Christ. Glancing over his shoulder at her once more he found his eyes widening as their gazes met and held for one beat then two…and she wasn’t looking at him as if he had stepped in shit this time.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Don’t hurt yours.</span><br/><br/>“Baby, please, I’m a professional.” He winked, then shrugged, taking back up his stance and delivering several blows in quick succession to the sand bag. He was a professional. Well almost. He had been training for several years now and cage-fighting for a lot less than that. But it was the cage-fighting that brought in the money. John was adamant about him giving it up, he had dreams of Xander actually going Pro someday, ending up on the telly or some shit. Whereas Xander just wanted to keep a roof over his family’s heads, something which had become a lot easier since he had started taking part in the underground matches. There was no way to hide it from John or the other guys. Some nights he got hit and he got hit bad other nights he walked out of there with a pocketful of bills and not a scratch on him. And there was no way he was going to walk away from definite cash for what could be a pipe dream.<br/><br/>One more chance, his trainer had said, one more and if he caught him cage-fighting, gambling, drinking or whatever the hell else Xander was inclined to do he was out. Well, fuck, what was he supposed to do with that? Catching the sand-bag on its downward swing Xander leaned against it, breathing hard. He needed to get his mind off this, he needed…his thoughts tailed off as he looked up and found that same girl watching him. Grinning faintly, he ducked and grabbed his towel before crossing the mat to meet her. “What’s your name anyway?”