Ladybug |OPEN|

Loneliness, it was a feeling everyone grew acquainted with at some point in their lives. A hollow ache that could convince anyone naive enough that they longed for the presence of someone else. Someone else to touch them, to ease their pain, to speak on the behalf of their suffering. Loneliness always longed for someone else.

And Ronan found that he was always alone. The panther was a solitary creature by nature and the young man often chose his own company over that of others. But loneliness by choice was hardly loneliness at all.

Ronan didn't feel loneliness. He was the victim of a more sinister and dark emotion, hunger. He longed for something to quench the apathetic flame that consumed his heart, something that would calm the torrent of anger curled up in his gut. Anything with the power to suppress the flood of despair welling up within him. Anything at all.

He was safe here in the Haven. His life should be better now. They had given him everything he needed to start over and yet he didn't know where to begin. Did starting anew mean putting his entire past behind him? Would he be forced to live as a mere shadow of who he had once been, or recreate himself from all over? The were wasn't quite sure he wanted to do either at this point.

Ronan stretched flexing his sore muscles. He hadn't even started for the day and he felt sore. It must be from sleeping on the couch. Stiffing a sigh he slipped on his trainers before stepping out of the men's change room. This would be the first time in weeks he'd done any sort of physical exercise in this form, and after having broken his training regime Ronan wasn't quite sure where to start.

The gym was rank with the scent of sweat and if it weren't for the torrential hail outside, Ronan would have found a small clearing with a tree or something to hit. Shouldering his towel, the tall man strode over to the punching bags. He had little desire to begin there, but for now the area seemed empty with the exception of one girl.

But she's just sitting there. He frowned offering no acknowledgement as he dropped his bag on the bench. Something inside if of it  - probably his water bottle created a dull hum as it hit the bench. Ronan paid it no heed as he carefully unstrapped his collar, pulling his hair into a pony-tail.

Even clad in the tight-fitting muscle shirt, it didn't take a genius to guess he was no stranger to this gym-like setting. His time spent in the military and as a SARTECH agent had given him a strong, powerful build. There didn't appear to be a trace of fat on him at all. His broad shoulders and muscular forearms were not the only tell-tale signs of his military training. From his strong chest to his rigid posture, even as he strapped on his gloves implied he wasn't your average gym junky.

Rolling his shoulders with another  wince, Ronan tossed a glance at the female beside him. "Are you done? Or are you just here to cry?" He asked rather bluntly. As he finished speaking, he parted his lips just a little to take in her scent. Not a cat. He thought immediately, closing his mouth without comment.

Ronan followed her gaze to the butchered sand bag. His brow twitched in an unhappy frown but he decided not to inquire how the bag ended up in such a sorry state. Instead, he found himself watching the girl across from him observing her body language quietly. Was that nervousness he caught in her face, in the way she refused to look away, or even how she seemed to draw herself up placing her hands on her hips to make a statement?

Curiosity etched it's way into his features before the man turned to the punching bag. "Would you like me to carry it out?" He thought he'd seen a dumpster in the parking lot outside. While he didn't fancy heading out in the hail, anything to have the space to himself and he didn't care about a stupid fine either. If anything, he would be doing them a favor.

The mention of frailty had him concerned once more. Rising to his full height, Ronan gave one of the bags an experimental push watching it sway back and forth. The creaking from above grated his ear drums and he brought the bag to a sudden stop. It did feel fragile, as though the material had been stretched beyond its capacity to encompass the sand inside. "I'm not here to destroy public property," he said with a sigh.

There was no response to her earlier inquiry, he didn't really think it was any of her business anyway and Ronan wasn't looking for a partner.

There was something about this girl, something about her scent that was sickly sweet. Ronan studied her carefully, lips parting ever so slightly as he drew in what he could of her scent. There was an underlying 'prey' scent about her, something that made his mouth water. Not a cat, so maybe something smaller? A mouse or a bird or something? But there was another scent that bothered him, something sweet like medicine but not. Perhaps it was just her natural aroma but there was something about it that unnerved him.

With a light shake of his head, Ronan uncrossed his arms. He was the hunter here. The were didn't move an inch as she took a step towards him, though if she hadn't turned her back she may have noticed his lips beginning to twitch in the beginnings of a snarl. Too close.

The hollow thump was a familiar sound to him though and he found himself flexing his hands impatiently. "If I hit it will you go away?" He made no effort to disguise the faint annoyance in his tone, why would he? He didn't come here to socialize. He came here to be alone.

Only wanting some peace and quiet, Ronan eyed the bag warily before his hand shot out. Rather than deliver a punch to the bag like he normally would have, the were uncurled his fist to deliver a sharp palm strike instead. He'd made no effort to ease the blow and the moment his palm came in contact with the bag he recognized his mistake.

She was clever. And that's when he realized, she smelled like poison. Sickly, sweet, and toxic. Without even waiting to see the damage he had probably caused, Ronan began to remove his gloves. "I suppose that makes two trips now," he murmured softly. Two trips to the dumpster in the hail...great.

After being on his own for such a long time, Ronan felt clumsy in the presence of another person. This wasn't like his encounter with Boris where he had truly felt the more dominant of the two. This was something different, and yet familiar. He'd felt this way before a long time ago, back in the reserves. But he didn't like to talk about it anymore. He didn't like to feel like this anymore.

A warning growl rumbled in his chest as she jabbed him lightly. Clenching his fists Ronan had to fight back the urge to grab her hand. Too close....Too close. Normally the ex-serviceman would have had the decency to scowl or frown, not outwardly growl at someone. But this was a Haven, it didn't matter if people knew he wasn't human, no one was. Especially not her.

He found himself irked by her willingness to destroy the bags so easily as if it wasn't even her problem. "Cut it out," he muttered carefully nudging the destroyed bag with his toe. If he picked it up carefully, he might be able to get it out without spilling sand all over the floor. What a drag this was turning out to be.

Watching her taunt him was even less amusing. This problem could have been resolved quickly if she were some common bloke, but Ronan didn't operate well in the female department, he never had. So rather than brute force, the were was forced to rely on verbal tactics alone."Do me a favor and piss off would you?"