driftfleet | (no subject)

[ Shaking her head, Raven is quick to nudge him again, fighting the urge to laugh. ]

You're - honestly, Hank.

[ But she isn't complaining. Really, she's just looking at him and feeling so many soft, fond emotions that it's hard to untangle them - it's hard to do anything except stare at him and know she's in the right place, suddenly, as if she's meant to be here. She doesn't like the idea of Hank being here without her and she's glad, despite the distance between the two of them, that they've found each other here in the middle of space.

If she was here alone she's sure she'd lose her mind.

Tilting herself up, she kisses him again before she huffs a noise, turning her head to look around the gym. Last time she'd been here she had spoken to Erik, and it still gives her a strange feeling somewhere in her stomach, as if she's expecting something else to go wrong. ]

You won't spar with me, will you?

[ Already expecting the answer she heads over to investigate the weights. ]

That's me, honestly Hank.

[he tries not to think about what it'd be like if he was here alone. If Charles or Erik weren't here, if Raven had never shown up - he'd be more of a mess than he's ever been. They were a big part of how he managed to make it through Kyriakos, and Charles was quite literally part of his every day, and the thought of being without that was - it just didn't register.

And Raven being here? For all the issues he had, for all the problems they still had to work out, he hasn't been this happy - ever. In a long time didn't seem right, with the threat of Shaw hanging over their heads the last time he was even this close. There was none of that here. No threats, other than themselves.

He's a bit thrown off by the question and he considers it as she looks around. He - isn't sure he could spar with her, not the way he does it, but it would benefit her, to have a moving target. A punching bag, so to speak, as much as he knew other people hated that he thought of himself that way at times.

So he shrugs, and:] I could try? If you want me to.

You're very funny.

[ It's said dryly, and she shakes her head as she looks him up and down, considering. She doesn't want to spend too long dwelling on the what ifs and the possibilities, not really, because she knows where her thoughts will end up and she's afraid to think about it, afraid to consider what type of person she might have become in the short time she'd been here if Hank, Charles and Erik hadn't been there to soften the raw side of her. She might not be as comfortable as she is, certainly, and there's no way she would ever be as happy.

She wouldn't be able to try, and that's one thing she knows for sure. There would be few attempts to branch out and try to talk to people and anyone she did meet would be given the same bland, dangerous side of her that had carried her through so many years of isolation, so many years of being alone by her own choosing. Raven knows herself, better than she ever had before, and she knows how terribly she would have handled the fleet.

Tilting her head up, she examines him quickly - she knows how strong he is, and fast, and she doesn't expect him to hold back on her account even though she's almost certain he will. She has to learn to fight things bigger than herself, though, especially if she's going to still be alone for a while after the fleet is over, and - well, she might as well start with a target she knows.

Crossing her arms, she raises an eyebrow. ]

Do you think you can take me?

I'm hilarious, thank you.

[he tries not to spend too much time dwelling either, as obvious as he is. Keeping busy, keeping his mind occupied - if he took the time to really consider all of the things bothering him, he'd be an utter disaster, letting his insecurities and worries overwhelm him. And he can't do that, not with so many people here important to him.

All he knows is that he'd probably still be hiding, if he were here alone. Hiding away from people he knew now didn't care what he was. But it's hard to think logically when you're by yourself.

He stands up a little straighter as he watches her examine him, eyebrows raised. He's seen that look before, on Logan's face, on other faces sizing him up to consider how much of a threat he is. He doesn't squirm - he just squares his shoulders a bit.

. . . of course, it's Raven, too. And that allows him to be a little more confident and a lot more of a smartass]

Do you think you can land a hit on me?

[ The problem is that up until now Raven had never stopped to think of Hank as a threat or as a danger; he had always been an ally and a friend, even when she had been separated from them all and fought to be out by herself, only echoing in memories of being mutant and proud. She only knew a little bit about Hank's strength from her own experiences here on the fleet, and she'd been a witness to his agility as she had fled Paris - but it was nothing compared to fighting properly.

Of course, she had sparred Azazel and Angel and even Janos, sometimes, when Erik and Emma were off being leaders and spying and doing whatever they needed to do. Angel had been dangerous, true, and so had the always silent Janos, but Azazel had been the worst; his speed and his teleportation had made her come face to face with her own hesitation, leaving her learning how to shift her body to try and fight back against the impossible.

Erik had helped too. Who else would have taught her hand to hand combat? Who else would she have let close enough to touch her the way she'd let him?

Now, she watches him for a moment before her expression softens into a smile. It doesn't take her long to nod, something sharp in her eyes, and then she's stepping forward. ]

I think we could do best to three touches.

[he's volunteering knowing full well that Raven isn't familiar with everything he's capable of. He's come a long way since what he could manage in Cuba, still unsure of his new body and everything he could do. Now, he knew the limits of his mutation, almost down to the numbers in some cases; how far he could jump, how hard he could hit, how much he could lift. He knew he'd been limited here, but it wasn't nearly as much as Kyriakos. Those limits didn't leave him feeling completely helpless, and nothing would come along to take his powers away, either.

But he'd never sparred with someone else before. Surely not with Charles, who even after began taking the serum could walk and run once more. By then, they'd both been swallowed by their loneliness and bitterness with the world. It was always by himself, and never where anyone could see. Even now, in a place where he could spar with people he wouldn't or couldn't hurt, he still preferred doing it by himself.

It worries him, a little, but not because he'll hurt her - he could never do that. He's worried that he'll impress her. The stupidest worry in the world]

That's fine. [a small smile] I hope you won't hold back.

[she doesn't have to, after all]

[ What Raven knows Hank doesn't realise is that she already knows he's going to be incredible; she's not worried about being overwhelmed by his talent or how remarkable he is. She knows, and she had always known, from the moments in Cuba to when he had fought in Paris, the little things here and there that had proven how far he'd grown. She remembers seeing him in Washington, lifting up rubble and metal to free Charles and then holding her brother as if he was weightless and she'd known that even if he struggled to accept himself he was growing into his gifts.

Her body shifts as she reaches out to stretch, blue overtaking her as she changes from Raven to Mystique; it's easier, even now, to separate the two with names, to let herself think of them as one or another. She's always going to be Mystique but the dangerous parts of herself, the ones that threaten others and make them afraid of her are going to be tucked away when she looks demure and innocent and like she couldn't hurt a fly. It's almost like it's a trap and she's glad to be back in her own skin, feeling more flexible already.

It's not something that makes sense, really, because changing her skin doesn't change who she is, but there's a kind of freedom that comes from being blue that she can't deny nor hide.

She offers Hank a smile in return, adjusting her weight before she nods, once. ]

I never hold back.

[ And then she's shifting, backing away and sliding so she can watch Hank before he makes any movement at all. ]

[far be it from him to say anything about using names to separate aspects of a person. He's started getting into the habit of referring to himself as "Beast" when he's like this, after all, with lack of a better way to explain it. It was a code name and a descriptor, sometimes accurate, and in a way he was glad he still had it, and that it survived over the years. It never failed to remind him of the day they were coming up with code names - a bittersweet memory, but a good one all the same.

He's already warmed up, having been here for an hour or so already, so now it's just a matter of waiting for her to make the first move. He's already familiar with the area so there's no need to assess what's available to him, where he can move and how, so all of his attention is on her. He can't help but feel just a little thrill of excitement; he was going to see up close what she was capable of, and as much as he didn't want to impress her, she was certainly going to impress him. He didn't doubt she could keep up with him.

He just tilts his head, eyebrows raised as she moves back]

We'll see.

[ It is exciting, and Raven can't hide the way she looks over everything and practically basks in it, the thrill of a fight even if it's not a real one. After feeling trapped and cooped up for so long the chance to let herself go, to really feel the excitement and the rush that comes with actually doing something. She can't complain about being able to spend time with Hank and Charles and Erik, not really, but she's never been very good at sitting still and accepting things - she had to fight back somehow and, so, she did.

Her eyes scan Hank and she watches, letting her gaze drag over him. She knows that she could flip over his head if she wanted, or use some of the equipment to push her to one side, but a part of her wants him to make the first move. Considering she issued the challenge, though... She feels as though it's her prerogative to try and make the first hit. She has to consider for a moment, knowing that Hank has sharp reflexes and speed to match his strength if he needs to use it, and it means she has to plan at least a handful of moves ahead.

What she does is move to the side, darting to roll behind a set of weights before she twists and moves forward, sliding against the ground - it reminds her of Paris and she has to stop herself from laughing as she turns, lifting a leg to see if she can hit him in the back of a thigh. ]

[for all the confidence he lacks, and all the uncertainty he has in himself otherwise, when it comes to this he's at least certain in what he's capable of. He's tested his limits time and again, and while actually keeping up some manner of training regiment is fairly new, he hasn't been inactive since Washington or Kyriakos. Not when the world seemed to conspire against them the moment they let the guards down.

He watches her move and she goes low, which means his own response is to go high; he isn't sure exactly how he plans on retaliating to all of this, so playing a moving target suits him just fine for now. And honestly, as much as she's assessing him he's doing the same for her. As a scientist, as someone who admires her, as a fighter himself -

Her leg sweeps for the back of his and he flips backwards over it, a low rumbling noise slipping out. There's equipment there and he's thankful it's the heavy sort, as his feet grasp onto the side of it and a hand grabs the top to perch there. It creaks in protest of the extra weight, but he holds still, watching her. Waiting.

And grinning like an idiot]

[ The chance to actually move her body and do something rather than stagnate and feel like she's wilting away is incredible, and Raven basks in it. She's free to move and shift and twist her body to make up for the inches that the gym floor doesn't forgive and she tilts, using the force of her movement as Hank jumps up to stop herself, to twist and near enough leap to her feet. Her heels press into the ground and she lurches backwards, her eyes darting over his body before she tilts her head up and fights her own grin, the laughter bubbling in her chest. ]

Show off.

[ But it's incredible all the same, and she's sure that he knows just how she feels. She's always had a rather incredible appreciation for Hank's mutation and seeing it in action now is wonderful - but it doesn't stop her own movements. She's going after him, after all, and she intends to get the first hit even if he is showing off by leaping around the gym with all of his strength.

Moving forward, Raven ducks and twists, her hips moving before the rest of her body as she grabs the equipment and uses it to try and force herself up, to swing to try and land herself opposite Hank; she can stand on something a little lighter than him if only because she is a little less weighted than he is, less bulky and more flexible - not that she minds his weight or his strength, of course.

Leaning forward, she breathes out, tilting her head to one side to assess the room. It's small, but there are weights and machines that give room for them to dart and shift and push, and she thinks she can use her new leverage to push forward and leap, to try and slam her elbow into his side. ]

[if only it were showing off. No, he's notoriously bad at doing that, no matter what he knows he's logically capable of. He showed off once for Viva, actually done it purposely, and it was pushing the limits of what he felt about it all. But then again, Viva never had an issue with his mutation, and she'd been the first to call him "cool" that way.

The weights and smaller spaces to dart behind work against him; he's quick and agile but he's still big, and were she to take advantage of that he'd be left to the equipment - or further in, where there's actually space to be doing something like this. But it's open, and it doesn't quite fit what each of them are looking for. The additional challenge of their surroundings adds to the spar, as light as it might actually end up being.

As she moves he waits until the last possible moment to let go of the gym equipment, dropping down as her elbow sails right over his head. A clawed hand catches him and he uses it to roll into a crouch. Technically speaking, the last person he fought was Erik, and that had ended up being pretty one-sided, so he has no experience to fall back on that isn't years old. He was used to people more his size, and Raven was smaller - and quicker.

There's more, larger equipment behind him and he takes off for that. He may as well give her a chase while he's at it]

[ Raven thinks that it's more of a compliment than a complaint; she likes to see Hank's power, his strength - he knows that already - and seeing how far he's come from the first time he was ever blue is marvellous to see. She basks in it, feeling a steady warmth thrum through her, something a little bit like pride as she turns her body and adjusts her weight, prepared to chase him through the gym if that's what it takes. There's something incredibly unique about seeing Hank like this, and she's glad she gets to see it.

When Hank rolls away she slams her foot into the equipment and reaches out a hand to steady herself, practically hanging by her fingers before she turns and drops down silently; a benefit of her mutation, her skin and her flexibility. She has the upper hand here and she knows it, but she doesn't want to take too much advantage, not when she knows things are balanced in her favour against her larger opponent.

Hank heads towards the larger equipment and Raven shifts, ducking behind small racks of weights and the lines of other things that she ignores - replacement punching bags and all sorts of minor extras - so that she can creep around and find him. She pauses as she peeks between two sets of treadmills, turning them on as a distraction before she heads in the other direction, attempting to move to creep up behind him.

When she does, then she can move to tilt her leg forward, to reach out and, with momentum coming from her palm flat on the ground and her body angled towards Hank, try to kick him sharply on the side. ]

[he huffs out a quiet noise as he hears her turning on equipment - a good tactic, especially for someone who has better than average hearing like he does. But he isn't a novice, either - he may not train his senses as much as he should, but he is pretty decent at tuning out background noise, and running treadmills fall into that grouping at the moment.

Not that it'll help much; he could be quiet, sure, but Raven had the advantage there, between her mutation and her training. He could never match that, no matter how much training he did - he was just too big, and it certainly didn't work with the way he fought.

But he has other ways to track her, and it's the only reason why she doesn't catch him off-guard. It'd be incredibly odd to explain he could smell her getting closer, but that's really what it is - a familiar scent, one he slept with every night, growing stronger as she stalks up behind him. It's enough that he's able to turn and catch her just in time to catch her leg with a hand, clawed fingers curling around her ankle]

[ She knows the sound of the treadmill won't really be enough, but she made the attempt anyway; her own senses are a little better than the norm, but they're nowhere near the standard that Hank's are. It means that she has to try more than just one thing to try and dart around him and grab at him, and the fact that she has to think so hard is refreshing - it's fun for her and she basks in it, tilting her head before she moves forward.

Of course, when he reaches out and grabs her leg she makes a soft sound of disappointment, slamming her heel into the ground to stop some of her momentum. Tilting her head up, she watches him for a moment before she flops back, her body comfortable on the ground as she wiggles her foot in his grasp, pretending as though she isn't almost pouting.

Hank is good, and she revels in it - because she's proud of him, proud to know him and be around him, cherishing each and every single moment she has with him and fighting her smile. ]

Round one to you.

[she wiggles her foot and he gives in to temptation, using the tip of a claw to carefully tickle at skin before he releases her, a grin playing on his lips. Had this been a more serious sparring session he'd be across the room by now, closer to the other equipment that hung from the ceiling that he could take advantage of, but instead he decides to crouch down, arms resting on his thighs.

But on guard regardless. She was keeping him on his toes and that much he wasn't used to, outside of the obstacle course and the few battles he's actually been in. It was refreshing in a way, not knowing what to expect and being alert for anything, to have to both pay attention to his own strength lest he break something or someone and still use the rest of his senses to their extent.

He hated fighting, but this? This he could get used to]

Round to me. [he repeats and he doesn't grin, but it's audible in his voice] You almost had me.

I know, that's what's annoying. Well done.

[ She's fighting a losing battle against her own laughter, too, and she has to tug her foot back and away before she loses herself in her giggles. Instead, she shifts and tilts her head up, giving him a quick kiss - a little reward, considering he won the first round - and then she's moving, pushing herself to her feet and up, stretching her limbs above her head and watching her boyfriend for a moment, staring, until the whites of her teeth show through her grin.

He might have got the first round, but that doesn't mean she'd let him have others.

Raven is quick to move away, ducking behind equipment once more, tucking herself into the smaller spaces - because this time she's going to be on the defensive, waiting for Hank to come at her. Attacking him hadn't worked well in her favour and she was learning about his ability, his style, as they continued. Creeping up on him just wasn't going to work considering his senses, and she was going to have to rethink her tactics.

Even transforming wouldn't work; she'd still smell the same. ]

Thanks. [he makes a low, rumbling noise] Too close, though. I need to work on that part.

[his senses, he means. He adds it to his mental checklist, for later when he can consider his weaknesses and a way to work on them better. It was a new thing for him, rather than simply being decent at what he was able to do naturally. And in a way, it kept him busy and his mind occupied, so that he didn't end up dwelling on all of his usual worries.

He watches her move away without standing up, waiting until she's disappeared behind equipment before standing back up. Another rumbling noise slips out as he takes hold of a tall piece of equipment and pulls himself up one handed, then perches there on one foot - another thing he was getting better at was his balance like this.

He finally huffs a noise and, because he's a brat - ]

You know I can smell you, right?

[that's what you say to girls you're dating, right, even in the middle of sparring sessions?]

That's why we're doing this, you know that, don't you?

[ Raven is doing it because she needs the workout and because she needs her body to move, to feel lithe and a little dangerous again, to practice so she doesn't lose her touch. Being able to do it with someone she knows that she's never fought before is an interesting experience, and she accepts it as she moves forward, trying to keep herself hidden and out of his line of sight.

It's not really fair, of course, on either side. Raven knows that she's lithe and able to move, that she can dart in and out and twist herself into awkward things that Hank can never manage, but Hank can see and hear and, yes, thank you, smell far better than she could, and it makes her huff a little pout, tilting her head up and turning to pause, back to some weights before she speaks. ]

Yes, and I'm still trying to figure out just how to work around that bit.

[ But, then, um - ]

I don't smell bad, do I?

Is that why? I was wondering.

[of course he knows why, but - for a reason he can't quite place, sparring with Raven, like this - it's putting him in a good mood. Maybe it's the chance to move around as himself, really himself, without fear of being walked in on or being judged, or maybe it's a combination of him being able to do all of that with Raven. He isn't sure, so he doesn't focus on it that much. Too much dwelling is dangerous, after all.

He glances in the direction her voice is coming from and an amused rumble slips out before he can stop it] I can tell you now that masking it doesn't work. At least, not as far as I've been able to tell.

[. . . of course it backfires on him]

Uh - no? You smell like you.

You can't tell me it's not fun, either.

[ The fact that they can do this, mess around and spar and have it be something gentle and fun and just... Enjoyable means something to her. All the times she had fought and practiced and messed around in the past had been for a purpose; preparing herself for war, for fighting, for defending herself. Now it's just because she wants the exercise, because she wants to stretch herself, because she wants to spend time with Hank. It's a new meaning to something that had once been bad and almost painful, and she welcomes it.

She does pout at his little laugh, though, turning her head around to speak over the weights. ] I don't even know how to mask it, and I bet my mutation doesn't let me cheat, either.

[ She shifts, leaning forward, and rolling so she can dart to the next piece of furniture to use as defence. ]

What does 'me' smell like?

I might be having a little fun.

[he's enjoying himself, enjoying the challenge - the closest he's gotten to this is running the obstacle course and that's always been by himself, in the late hours so no one would see. And forget back home or before Kyriakos - he hadn't bothered. In a way he didn't have to, and Paris and Washington had only shown him that he had to start bothering again, unless he wanted to get thrown through more cars.

There's a creak of metal as he moves closer, perching atop another piece of gym equipment as quietly as he can. Stealth isn't his forte by any means, he's too big for that, but he still tries to be as quiet as he can, equipment noises aside] Maybe that's something you should test. [because honestly, he'd be interested in knowing if her mutation allowed for it, too.

. . . why would you ask him that]

I don't - think I can put words to it?

We'll see if you're still having fun when I win.

[ Which isn't going to be as easy as she hoped it might be, but she's enjoying the challenge. When she had been sparring with the others, before, she had been matched up with people she knew, people who's styles she understood completely. Now, with Hank, she's learned once more how to read an opponent, how to shift and make herself more dangerous, how to settle with what she has at hand and learn to use her surroundings. It's not perfect, but she can work with it.

Still, she turns her head and listens, hearing Hank and huffing a little noise, making her way back to the opposite side of the room, way from him - which is an unusual stance for her to take since, usually, she enjoys being close to him. ] But you'll know where I am from the foreign scent. I can't win, really, can I?

[ All the same, she keeps going forward and shifts into some random persons he had seen on the Paris Metro, then someone else, stranger upon stranger until she settles on the familiar - Charles. ]

Then don't. At least I don't smell bad.

You're assuming you're going to beat me.

[he might be opposed to actually attacking her, but he's certainly not going to make it easy on her, either. It was only a spar, and it was a way for both of them to test themselves against each other. They'd never sparred before and it worked out, that they could not only spar, but take their time figuring out how the other ticked. It was a challenge, and a fun one, and it'd be a lie to say that Hank wasn't getting more and more into this.

He tilts his head as she moves, and he waits until he's sure she's settled to move himself, leaping down from the equipment to the ground. He follows the direction of her voice with slow, careful steps, conscious of his claws so they don't click against the floor]

That's because it's just us. Maybe we should test it out the next time we stop.

[he pauses, though, at the familiar voice]

Well now you do.

[hank mccoy: sometimes a little shit]

Let's pretend I'm being optimistic.

[ She had over-estimated how she would work in this situation, and the problem of her scent isn't going to go away, not when Hank is so sharp and she can't really hide herself. Even transforming isn't good enough, but at least she can hope that the weird mix of smells hanging around might be enough to make things a bit more confusing for her boyfriend. It's not a particularly nice thing to hope, but at least it might even things out a little.

As Charles, she pushes herself up, tense as she does her best to listen for Hank, deciding that the best thing to do now, of course, is to transform into him, blue fur and all. He's been in here longer than she has, so maybe his smell is just as prominent as her own.

When she speaks, though, it's with her own voice. ]

It'd be fun. Are you promising to spar with me more outside of the gym, Hank?

[ And then she huffs a laugh. ]

I'm telling on you.