Only one of the practice rooms was occupied, and it wasn't hard to tell which one it was. Cam paused outside the door, listening to the sound of a punching bag serving its intended purpose. There were no kiyais to accompany the blows. Of course, considering who it was, it was probably more an aggressive outlet than a focused training session.

He almost turned and walked away. He really didn't want to do this. But he had been given the chance to do things the easy way yesterday, and he had turned it down. He hadn't recognized it at the time; that was the problem. Now he owed not only an effort of his own but also, maybe, an apology. At least an explanation.

Cam stepped into the doorway before he could talk himself out it. The Crimson Ranger was attacking the punching bag with savage determination and almost incidental technique. As he'd expected, then: Hunter was blowing off steam, not practicing. He didn't bother to stop when Cam made his presence known, though his gaze did flicker toward the door in mute acknowledgement.

"Hey," Cam said warily. He was never sure how Hunter would react to things, but the Crimson Ranger seemed to thrive on confrontation. He had to remind himself that his own reaction yesterday had been somewhat lacking, and Hunter could be forgiven a cool welcome.

Hunter put one hand on the punching bag as if to steady it. The bag in this room was anchored at the top and bottom, but it was easy habit to get into when one practiced elsewhere on a regular basis. "Hey," he replied evenly.

Cam tried to swallow against a suddenly dry mouth. "I thought I'd get some coffee," he remarked, with forced casualness. "Do you... uh, you want to come?"

Hunter was staring at the punching bag now. "I don't know," he said, taking a step back and lifting his fists in a standard guard position. He spun, slamming his heel into the bag viciously. "That's not really my thing," he added with a sneer.

Okay. Hunter took everything personally. He should have known he'd have those words tossed back at him in the near future. "I thought you were asking everyone," Cam muttered.

Hunter caught his eye again, a suspicious look on his face. "What are you talking about?"

"I thought everyone was going to the film festival," Cam explained. "And I was thinking about Dustin talking the whole time and Shane bragging that he was better than those stunt doubles... I didn't realize--I didn't know they weren't going."

"They weren't invited," Hunter said bluntly. "Blake asked Tori, and I asked you. That was it."

It had only taken him an entire day to figure that out. Only when he'd connected the skate demo and the start of the film festival had the possibility occurred to him. "Yeah," he muttered. "Well, I didn't know that."

Hunter was studying him, his face unreadable. "Would you have come if you'd known?"

"Yeah," he said, returning the look without flinching. "Yeah, I would have."

Hunter braced an arm against the punching bag again, not taking his eyes off of Cam. "Next time I'll spell it out for you," he remarked. "I'll make sure the word 'date' is in capital letters. Highlighted, even."

"A simple, 'do you want to go out with Blake and Tori' would have been enough," Cam retorted.

"I wanted to know if you'd go out with me," Hunter countered. "Not them."

"A point which you didn't exactly make clear," Cam informed him, ignoring the attempt at humor. "I didn't really expect subtlety from you."

"I can be subtle," Hunter shot back. "I just figured you'd pick up on stuff like that."

"Do I look like a social butterfly?" Cam demanded.

Hunter snorted, but his lips quirked as he looked away. His eyes focused on the floor, and he shook his head--still smirking, Cam thought. Then, without lifting his head, he looked up. "So, coffee, huh?"

Cam folded his arms, uncomfortable under that knowing gaze.

"Give me ten minutes," Hunter said abruptly, pushing away from the punching bag. "I'll meet you upstairs."

He lifted his chin in acknowledgement. Taking a step back, Cam turned and headed down the hall. He found himself trying to suppress a smile of his own, knowing it was ridiculous and probably looked it, but at least there was no one here to see it.

He slowed down as he approached the control room. He was trying to make himself look a little more serious, but the sound of voices from inside made him stop altogether. He had forgotten that Tori was doing her "community service" at Ninja Ops this afternoon. It sounded like she had company.

Blake. Blake was trying to convince her to drop the mop and go out with him. His aside to Sensei made Cam freeze, grudgingly admiring Blake's audacity and simultaneously wondering if he should take a different route to the surface. He didn't really want to tell his father where he was going, and somehow he knew the subject would come up.

Great. Now he was going to sneak around like a high schooler? The thought held little appeal. On the other hand, the alternative was to draw considerably more attention than he wanted right now.

"Won't Hunter go with you?" Tori was asking, her voice coming closer to the back of the room. "You guys didn't get to see much of the first movie."

"Nah." Blake dismissed the idea out of hand. "He's doing his brooding thing tonight. He won't be any fun until he gets it out of his system."

"I have some interest in movies which portray the martial arts," his father remarked.

Cam's eyes widened as he listened. He wasn't sure which surprised him more: that his father wanted to go to the movies, or that Blake was willing to go with him. Still, he wasn't above taking advantage of opportunity when it presented itself. Once they left, Tori would be the only one in the control room. And unlike his father, Tori didn't practice the art of idle interrogation: if he said he was going out for coffee, she would take it at face value.

As long as Hunter didn't say the same thing when he left.