[Fully recovered from his bout with the horrible illness that had swept through the capitol and rendered him pretty helpless for a long time now, Joly felt a bit, a lot, unsteady in terms of his ability to do much of anything physical. So far, both of the arenas he'd entered had ended with him not needing to actually fight, but he was not going to have that luxury forever, and even though the almost-doctor in him recoiled at the idea of killing anyone in this sick farce, he knew perfectly well that it would come to needing to defend himself, or any of the others eventually. And now there was Eponine, as well. He did feel something of a duty to defend her if it came to it, even though she did not seem exactly likely to join their group in the arena.
There were simply too many factors now, pushing him toward improvement for the sake of the others if not himself. And then, there was District Three, and the horrific lies being spread about what had happened. If anything, that was a call that could be used to spark rebellion, and he ought to be ready for that fight as well.
So, here he was, grim faced, and standing before a training dummy, knife in hand as Venus and Enjolras had taught him, strategically stabbing and slicing those key areas of his target that would ensure almost instant death, and well, that were as painless as possible for a living victim. If his grip slipped from time to time into the one he'd used in the dissecting rooms, or in the minor surgeries he had been tasked to do in Paris, well, that one could still help a little, couldn't it?
Re: The Training Center
There were simply too many factors now, pushing him toward improvement for the sake of the others if not himself. And then, there was District Three, and the horrific lies being spread about what had happened. If anything, that was a call that could be used to spark rebellion, and he ought to be ready for that fight as well.
So, here he was, grim faced, and standing before a training dummy, knife in hand as Venus and Enjolras had taught him, strategically stabbing and slicing those key areas of his target that would ensure almost instant death, and well, that were as painless as possible for a living victim. If his grip slipped from time to time into the one he'd used in the dissecting rooms, or in the minor surgeries he had been tasked to do in Paris, well, that one could still help a little, couldn't it?