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“I also use the heavy bag,” she says, hands now on her hips. She tilts her chin towards the well-worn bag in the corner and then down towards the bag at her feet, and Blake blinks down at the lazily wound-up handwraps shoved into the end pocket, well used and worn.
“Oh,” Blake says stupidly, because she’s been underestimated before, because she knows how it feels, because it’s 4:30 in the morning and her day’s now off to an excellent start.