Suddenly, there was a gust of wind--inside???--and he found himself thrown backwards, looking up at the ceiling before crawling quickly to his feet. But then...

Everything seemed to fade away. The roaring crowd was nothing more than an empty gym. The ring was no longer fancy, and the bright stadium-esque lights were now flickering florescent bulbs. And his opponent was a smaller, younger man. The look faded, and he was back in reality. The reality being he could have beaten the pulp out of this kid without knowing it. and from the looks of it, he'd gotten at least a few shots in before the wind blew.

Shaking his head, Blaine threw his hands up. "I think I'm done, kid. Sorry if I hurt ya more than intended..." he murmured, moving to lean in the corner to gain his bearings. "That wind thing....was that you?" he asked after a moment. "That's pretty badass..."

Blaine quickly regained his footing and was trying to gather his wits. Tempest studied him closely as the fog of whatever he was experiencing lifted. The man threw a weary few shakes of his head and Devon frowned. Thankfully Blaine knew it was time to call it.

A few motions of his hands and he was done. Devon’s eyes – solid black – narrowed at the larger, stronger, older man. What had been a few good holds and a toss or two had quickly escalated into something Devon was going to feel in the morning. He’d have to stick his face in some cold water, maybe even cancel any meetings lest he have to go into detail.

>> "I think I'm done, kid. Sorry if I hurt ya more than intended..."

Blaine muttered and found a wall to lean against, stumbling over to a corner to hold himself upright. Devon wondered if he knew what was happening, but clearly he remembered if his first comment meant anything. Then he was either amazed, complimenting, deflecting, or some combination of the three.

Devon ignored the query.

“Where were you just now when you popped your shoulder and flew into that fighting rage?” Devon asked, wiping a bit of blood from his lip before licking it slowly and sucking on the cut. “What happened then?”

Blaine steadied his breathing, closing his eyes for a moment as he just slumped in the corner for a bit, propping his arms on the ropes. They didn't open until Devon asked his question, and he looked at the younger man thoughtfully.

"That much I guess I owe ya," he said matter-of-factly, making eye contact as he continued speaking. "When I got out of high school, I dreamed of being a pro fighter. Figured it would put my mutation to good use. I'd made it semi-pro, went 12-2 during my career. Then, I had this big fight in Vegas. Me and this other guy looking to get to the bigtime. It was going to be my night, for sure.

But the guy got me in a kimura lock, similarly to how you started with the hold back there. Got me down and snapped my arm clean. I went on to win the fight all of a moment later, but....it didn't matter. My mutation was out and I was blacklisted from the business..." He gave a sharp exhale. "When you got behind me like that...it's like I was back in Vegas that night. That's never happened before." When he finished speaking, the bigger man just sat in the corner.

Blaine took a moment and Devon waited for him, giving him the space of mind to think.

>> "That much I guess I owe ya,"

Devon nodded. Yeah, but it wasn’t really Devon he was thinking about at the moment. It was Blaine and what he needed. Still, knowing why his eye was swelling and his shoulder throbbed painfully seemed fair. He kept eye contact with the man.

It was a fair dream being a pro fighter. Blaine seemed to enjoy it, giving focus to his talents. Of course his mutant power made it more difficult, even unfair. How sad was that story? He’d heard it before but never in such a visible, public way. A big Vegas fight that he was banking on dashed away because the other had broken his arm… And it didn’t stop him. No wonder the hold he’d gotten had brought him back.

A sad, defeated Blaine sat down in the corner and Devon felt for him. The shifting breezes in the room died as his eyes returned to an ocean blue. He went slowly around the ring, approaching the stronger man with a slight – if pained – smile. “Well I’m sorry to hear that was the end of your career and sorry I put you back there,” Devon apologized. “But I’m glad you can talk about it openly. I guess I should admit I’m a psychologist by trade so I tend to encourage such…”

He smirked, “But just because that happened, I hope it’s not stopping you from other ventures. Frankly, you’re amazing and your ability just an added benefit. I’m glad to have had the lesson though maybe sticking to bruises would be better next time.” Devon licked at his split lip again, “At least until I meat a healer, eh?” He laughed.

“But you know… Aside from the teaching aspect with you and I, I bet many others would appreciate the opportunity,” Devon explained as he knelt down, “And I might know a place where mutants can fight without fear of getting blacklisted.” The Haven Fight Club was well and good, but adding someone like Blaine to help manage would even better. Cal had his contracts that took him out and away. Maybe Blaine would like that.

“Have you heard of the Haven organization? It’s one of the businesses I work with.”

He gave a smile as he'd finished talking; though the story was usually told with a sense of pride, this time, it was told with more of a pained voice. After all, if Devon hadn't have been able to get Blaine off of him, they probably wouldn't be having this conversation. And the guy was encouraging--and a psychologist to boot.

"Other ventures? Well, I've been a bouncer and security guy since my career ended, I currently work a steady job at my girlfriend's bar. Though, I usually enjoy telling that story. But I usually don't tell it after going off the deep end," he said, the last part more apologetic. "If you need to be patched up, there's a clinic not far from here; ask for Marge. She's no healer, but she works wonders," he recommended.

And then, he perked up a little at the mention of a safe place, but he shook his head when asked about Haven. "I can't say that I have," he said honestly. "But between our little bout and this conversation...you have my attention." He stood to his feet, now fully back to himself, though he still felt bad about splitting his lip. Among other bruises that may appear later. But that seemed to be behind them, so at least the wounds would heal.

At least Blaine was smiling, but sometimes grins and laughter were the defense mechanism.

>> "Other ventures? Well, I've been a bouncer and security guy since my career ended, I currently work a steady job at my girlfriend's bar. ..”

Being a bouncer and a ‘security guy’ didn’t quite sound like career ventures Blaine was interested in. And what exactly might the bar job be? Barback? Security? Both? Devon mentally noted the girlfriend too. Right, yes, not that he’d been thinking about it but he was supposed to consider the possibility of dating people he met. Nate had encouraged him on such, but perhaps Devon was always thinking of it too much like an agenda of things to do.

Blaine described the event as a story he enjoyed telling, but clearly there was a lot of turmoil tied up in the memory. It was nice he was apologetic and Devon grinned at the offer of this Marge person who ran a clinic. “I’ll look her up,” Devon offered, although more for what Haven could possibly do for her.

Maybe he hadn’t heard of Haven but Haven was surely about to hear of him. Devon’s grin brightened at Blaine’s assertion of interest or at least a willingness to listen. “We’re a charitable organization, focusing on empowering volunteers and matching contributors to worthwhile, needing groups and endeavors. Haven focuses on education and volunteerism while also taking care of our people so that they can continue to be leaders. There’s a lot of things I think you’d be interested in,” Devon explained. “Let alone if I can convince you to teach some self-defense at Sanctuary everyone would love you.”

Devon chuckled then winced as he licked his lip. “I need to get some ice on my eye,” he chuckled lightly. “If you’ve got time to talk still, I do too.” In fact, he’d make the time. This was worth it.

Blaine listened as the young man explained his organization, and the bigger man's face was etched with intrigue throughout.

"Sounds like a worthy cause," he mused, "And I do need to find more to do with my time. Hey, I'm already sold on teaching self defense. It'd be a more productive way of using my skill than beating the **** out of a bag," he said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, we should get you some ice, and I've got plenty of time to talk, but we should see about getting you taken care of first."

Blaine climbed out of the ring, going to the ice maker in the corner. He'd never used it, personally, but he knew what it was there for. He scooped some ice into a plastic bag and tied it, then grabbed a hand towel to wrap it in. Then, he brought it back to Devon.

"Not the best, but it'll tie ya over "

Devon nodded; Haven was fighting for many worthy causes. He was glad the guy showed interest, but they had more to talk about first. At least there was a good chance of something working out here. Sometimes you needed a little more muscle – well-trained and willing to teach – to a group dedicated to helping others. Things were getting tougher, not easier. And Blaine here was tough.

>> "Yeah, we should get you some ice, and I've got plenty of time to talk, but we should see about getting you taken care of first."

“Good,” he chuckled the word. “l had planned on grabbing something to eat and we can talk more.” Meanwhile Blaine climbed out and grabbed some ice in a bag. Apparently he was accustomed to some hard hits here. Devon accepted the toweled ice with a smile. “Thanks.”

Pressing it to his lip Devon stood back up and climbed out as well. “I’m going to change up then we can grab that bite,” he gave a nod as he headed for the locker room. “I’ll meet you back out here unless you need to as well.”

Blaine nodded as the younger gentleman iced his lip.

"Yeah, I normally grab a shower when I'm done," he said with a shrug, grabbing his gym bag and putting his gloves in it. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he made his way to the locker room area. "So I guess we're heading to the same area anyway," he said with a slight shrug.

Once there, he stripped out of his gym clothes, wrapping a towel around his waist before stepping into the shower area and turning on one of the showers. Since he couldn't feel anyway, he just turned both knobs until the water had a good stream going. Then, he hung the towel on the curtainless bar, and stepped inside, his long hair hanging over his face as the water soaked it thoroughly.

“Blaine, your water is too hot. Your skin is getting too red.”

Their lockers were in separate locations, but there’s only ever one set of showers. Devon had taken a few moments longer than normal to get out of his gym shorts and shirt. His back and shoulders were throbbing and tight from the work out, followed by the wrestle/fight, and finished by the couple hits he’d taken to them. Add to that the pain of his eye and the ice he had been keeping to his lip and you might understand the slow struggle.

Eventually, however, he’d gotten to the swirling steam of hot water and bleached tile. He’d hung his towel next to the only other one; it was late and thankfully so considering the fight and conversation that had followed. There was Blaine, soaking with head held low as the water streamed over and down him.

Devon often felt a voyeur in communal showers. High school, YMCAs when he had enough money for a shower while homeless, then rec centers, college, and now gyms – heck even at Haven – the shower wasn’t the illusion of mists that others saw. Granted some were better ventilated than others but Devon’s eyes saw more, saw everything and how air currents and water rivulets alike fell, caressed, rolled.

You get the picture.

Now attention wanders, you see. Some looked more than others. In today’s day and age guys had returned to a freer sense of interaction in the gym, the locker room, after a couple decades of fear and hyper-masculinity. Still, Devon was a polite sort who didn’t want to abuse his ability and others’ right of calm, serenity that a shower offered. It’s not like Devon really felt the urge to let his Weather Eye wander either.

Yet, still, he wondered: what would Nate do? Their friendly conversation, the urging from Noel, even pressuring from a few others made him wonder what was he doing wrong? Should he have been trying things, looking to others for a possibility? What did they see that he didn’t? It gave him a sense of uncertainty that he sought to banish from his mind as he joined the shower. They could talk the fight and Haven after all.

Devon hoped he could help the man; clearly Blaine wanted something more and had some things he needed to deal with. Maybe he’d be a friend like Nate, sure. Who didn’t want to pick up another buddy or the like and the gym was a great place to do that. Haven too would benefit from the man’s skill. Sanctuary also needed more good role models and someone teaching fisticuffs and discipline would be wonderful. Darkshift had started the first classes but there could be, should be more.

“The water is pushing past 120 so much longer and you’ll develop a minor burn,” Devon continued as he worked shampoo through his black hair. He winced slightly, seeing how red Blaine’s shoulders and down his back were getting. “Add a little cold,” he urged.

Blaine never really paid much mind to his skin turning red; he'd always figured as long as it wasn't blistering or anything of that nature, it was fine. After all, his skin turned red all the time, for various reasons, so he figured that was just something that skin tended to do. There were certain details of everyday life that the average person took for granted, certain details that Blaine was all but unaware of.

However, as he was showering, and his mind was wandering as his body failed to tell him how scalding the water was, there was an increasingly familiar voice to let him know what his non-existent nerve endings couldn't. He didn't look over, but he gave a nod, turning the cold knob almost half way. After all, cold didn't matter so much, right? Then again, why didn't he just take cold showers? It was just one of those things he never really thought about.

"Thanks," he murmured as he looked over to meet Devon's eyes. "You could tell water temperature just by looking at it?" he asked, an intrigued smile on his face as he continued washing. "Temperature is sort of lost on me. I just make sure my skin isn't cooking and I figure as long as I don't smell burning flesh, it's fine," he said with a shrug. Granted, the exaggeration was his idea of a joke, but given his remarkably dry tone, the idea of a joke was often lost on him.

Devon laughed as he continued churning his fingers through his hair. Water spray occasionally got to him, sending the soap down but he wiped it from his eyes. He gave a quick nod and “Welcome,” when Blaine thanked him. The guy added plenty of cold to his shower; he’d be fine.

>> "Temperature is sort of lost on me. I just make sure my skin isn't cooking and I figure as long as I don't smell burning flesh, it's fine,"

“Not exactly the temperature, but I’ve learned through practice and a thermometer to match up what I’m seeing to how hot or cold,” Devon explained. “I probably should have been a meteorologist,” he chuckled again. “But I can guess why you’d simply focus on how much you’re cooking. Maybe with some practice you could learn to tell based on your skin’s reaction. You must have to be careful with sun exposure.”

He turned around with soap in hand to rub it across his chest as the water of his shower went through his hair and down. He winced slightly at first but then closed his eyes as the warmth soothed the pain from where Blaine had slammed the bottom of his palm into his lower back. He was going to need to stretch tonight and a painkiller, if he even tried to sleep. Devon was ever careful with the medication he ingested though, sometimes he simply let the pain fade rather than risk dependency or some mix-up…

“Haven and I are all about such education, though I admit a special interest in mutations and helping others with them,” he explained not opening his eyes, savoring the relaxing moment. “I like learning what else people can do. Most mutants do right? But I really seem to enjoy helping others find their control, testing their abilities in new ways. Like my business and the Haven organization: you take care of yourself then you can have some fun and help others too.”

He nodded, listening to the other man's words as he focused on showering. After all, he didn't quite have the luxury of washing with his eyes closed. Besides...there was really no point in attempting to merely enjoy the water, right? "Sort of. I just try to remember a jacket in winter, and in summer, I buy lots of sunblock." There were some aspects of his life like fighting, and more recently, love, that he'd put a lot of time and focus into getting every detail right. But most other things, he'd just found a quick way. But...he figured he could do some good to put that focus elsewhere.

He listened quietly as the man explained Haven, and helping people find new ways to use their powers, even passive ones like Blaine's. "Sounds like a hell of a good cause. I've come to enjoy learning about others' mutations myself. Specifically, how they interact with mine," he said with a light smirk. "It's a rather interesting concept, when you think about it. Even as mutants, we're all unique, and yet...we still mesh together in interesting ways."

>> "Sort of. I just try to remember a jacket in winter, and in summer, I buy lots of sunblock."

“Smart,” Devon said quietly. “Most don’t understand what they’re doing to their skin, especially on overcast days.” And it occurred to him that Blaine might be one of the few people who could travel to higher heights with him when flying. It wouldn’t take as much effort to protect him in a dire circumstance as he wouldn’t be distracted by the pain or pressure. The real problem would be catching it before any damage was done.

The topic moved to Haven, however, and it was one Devon was passionate about. If it wasn’t discovering mutant abilities and discussing their possibilities, then it was Haven he most enjoyed discussing. Their conversation quickly turned to both and it sounded like Blaine was as amused with the idea as he was.

>> "Sounds like a hell of a good cause. I've come to enjoy learning about others' mutations myself. Specifically, how they interact with mine,"

Devon laughed, opening his eyes to greet Blaine’s. “I get it,” he winked as he continued scrubbing up front while the water soothed his back. An x-ray wasn’t necessary but maybe have that friend of Blaine’s look at it wasn’t a bad idea. Getting her involved in Sanctuary or Haven was still on Devon’s mind.

>> "It's a rather interesting concept, when you think about it. Even as mutants, we're all unique, and yet...we still mesh together in interesting ways."

“Often in supernaturally interesting ways. I’ve met many, especially elementalists like myself, who haven’t even considered the full depth and breadth of possibilities for their powers. Interactions make it even more exciting like a friend I have who can manipulate gravity,” Devon smiled with a quick nod as if he thought Blaine wouldn’t believe him. “You never know what two people together might achieve,” he nodded once more. “And that’s again part of what Sanctuary is about, bringing people together to achieve more as one team while supporting the individual.”

Devon laughed again, “I’m sorry. I sound like marketing material don’t I?” He turned around, letting the shower wash the soap away. “I’m sure you’ll appreciate the perks, but there’s a place we can’t talk about you might like. I’d discuss it but there’s a rule not to,” he explained with another grin, evoking the movie. Usually that was enough to explain Fight Club to anyone.

He shrugged, turning around to get his back. "Yeah, but it's even more crucial for me to understand these things. Getting checked regularly, taking proper precautions, and so forth. I could be damaging myself and be none the wiser," he said plainly. For someone so young, Devon had a good head on his shoulders; though as a psychologist, he kind of had to be, didn't he?

"Yeah...I did a stint in the....less than legal fighting circuit," he found himself explaining, "Had all types come fight there. One guy I remember in particular, radiated...well, I forget if it was heat or cold or what have you, but anything within ten feet of him was in for a world of hurt." He then looked and smirked over at Devon. "Knocked his ass out in less than a minute."

He chuckled a little. "You might sound like marketing material, but I can tell you're passionate about what you do. And if the person selling isn't passionate...well you may as well hang it up right there." He smirked again, silently loving the fight club reference, even if the movie got some of the exact logistics wrong. "You've sold me," he finally said as he finished rinsing, offering his hand to shake, sealing the deal.