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“I’ll come and keep you company,” Emmy says.

“You’re gonnae keep her company…in the lassies’ showers?” Liam’s eyebrows shoot up. “That sounds⁠—”

He catches my disapproving look, then one hand drifts back to cover his crotch.

“—completely normal. Good for youse.”

Ten minutes later, I’ve done my cooldown stretches and I’m pulling on my trainers. Ryan talked me through every stretch, then insisted I put on his hoodie to keep my muscles warm. The more I get to know Ryan, the more convinced I am he’s part lethal MMA fighter, part mother hen.

I’m tying my second lace when three boys approach. They can’t be more than thirteen, all elbows and knees, in T-shirts a size too big. They’ve clearly spent some time deciding who has to speak first, because the one in front gets a shove between the shoulder blades.

“All right?” Ryan says.

“Could you sign our T-shirts?” the boy asks. “Please.”

“Aye, course. Got a pen?”

The three of them look at each other.

“Hang on a sec.” Ryan disappears into an office and comes back with a Sharpie. “What’s your name?” he asks the one who spoke.

“Callum.”

Ryan uncaps the pen and signs across the front of Callum’s T-shirt. “You just started here? I’ve no seen you before.”

“Last week.”

“All three of you?”

They nod. By the time he’s signed all three T-shirts, the other two have found their voices.

“Can you do the axe kick?” the tallest one asks.

“He means can you show us,” the other says quickly. “Obviously you can do it.”

Ryan smiles. “Aye. Give me a bit of space.”

They step back. He moves onto a clear patch of mat, lifts his leg astonishingly high, and brings it down in a controlled sweep.

All three boys make a noise of approval. I would join in, but my jaw appears to have become detached.

I’ve seen him do it before, of course. At the arena. But here, a couple of metres away, without a fight happening around it, I can actually appreciate how extraordinary it is for a man of his build and height. I’m a foot shorter and can barely touch my toes, let alone get my leg anywhere near that high.

He shows them again, more slowly, talking them through it as he moves. One of the boys starts to lift his own leg, wobbles, and sets it down.

“Work up to it,” Ryan says. “And keep working on your jiu-jitsu. Getting your leg up there’s no much use if you cannae get somebody off you when you’re on your back.”

They nod with the serious expressions of boys receiving information directly from a higher power.

“Can you do the splits?” I blurt, completely interrupting his moment with the lads. I didn’t even mean to ask, but as soon as the thought entered my head, it came out my mouth.

He looks at me, then slides his feet apart and lowers himself all the way to the floor. Just like that. No preparation. No dramatic exhale. None of the noises I made in the cage with Niamh. He simply sits there, legs stretched out to either side, and looks up at me as though he’s waiting for the next question.

I blink. “Goodness.”

Callum laughs. His friend says, “That’s class.”

Ryan gets back up, which seems nearly as impressive as getting down.