the_cupbearer: (modern life)
Ganymede, for the last several years masquerading as Alan Kingsley, stretched in the studio, part classroom and part dojo floor, that was his place at the U.N.C.L.E headquarters; he was employed there teaching hand-to-hand combat, and though he had a rather unusual way of doing things his students tended to be successful once past his class.

It was a job, and one he liked, though he did appreciate days off from the minor bruising and aches generally caused by men who didn't know what they were doing and tried to throw him. It never worked out all that well for them. He'd been asked to come in for an agent to train with him, not an unusual request, and so there he was, in comfortable loose pants with his hair braided back, stretching and pulling out the tension in his limbs. For a moment his pose was impressive; Ganymede was balanced on one bare foot, the other pulled up behind him and grasped by both hands, extended over his head and continuing the circle of his spine. Kuryakin was due at any moment, and he preferred to get to business. He'd never been much for the passing comments of nicety as far as Ganymede was aware, though he'd never spoken to the man himself.

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Ganymede | Benjamin Prince

September 2017

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