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I can put in the work.

[Impatient she is, but Jackrum did break her down a little bit. She knows how to work now in a way she suspects few other vampires really comprehend, how to get dirty and stay dirty until something's mastered.]

[She talks a good game, anyway. Natasha eyes her unblinking for a moment longer, then shrugs minutely and walks out towards the open space of the cargo bay floor.]

Hit me.

[Seems easy enough, right?]

[It does seem very easy, which Mal finds extremely suspicious. She hesitates, eyes narrowed at where Natasha's standing, and considers backing out. Something's not right here.]

[But in the end, her ego can't take the prospect. So she shrugs, cracks her knuckles, and runs directly at Natasha, fist up, ready to hit.]

[Suspicion is good. Means she's not a lost cause, which to be fair, Natasha didn't think she would be. She's usually got a pretty good sense for that sort of thing.

Mal hesitates a little longer, long enough for Natasha to almost wonder if she's worried about hurting her, but then she's shrugging and coming at her and...Nat's just not there anymore, shifting her weight to the side and sending Mal past her with what seems like just a nudge to her shoulder. When she finishes the motion, she's turned to face Mal, weight resting easily on the balls of her feet.]

When you commit to a move like that, all you're doing is leaving yourself open. It's dangerous. Try again.

[She's attacking, and it's going fine, and then all of a sudden Natasha simply - isn't there any more. She's thrown a bit sideways and skids to a stop before she can fall, whipping her head around to watch Natasha come to a stop herself.]

[Leaving herself open. All right. She can fix that.]

[She comes at it slower this time, arms up to protect from potential blows but otherwise not giving away how or where she might strike. Once she gets within striking distance, she hits out with her right fist in a face, then her left.]

[Pretty quick recovery. That's good. Good reflexes. And she's at least a little trained, lifting her arms--elbows still out too far though, if Natasha weren't fighting clean she'd be able to get a good blow in to Mal's kidneys, break a few ribs maybe--and when she approaches again, it's with two very rapid punches. Most people she'd hit.

She does at least make contact this time. Natasha lifts her left arm to deflect that first blow upwards, turning at the waist to allow that left fist to brush past her, and moving to grab the wrist behind it. If she succeeds in grabbing it, and Mal doesn't manage to pull away in time, she's going to end up being tossed head over heels over Nat's hip, thanks to the force behind those blows.]

[Natasha is, in fact, completely successful in grabbing Mal's wrist and throwing her, just as Mal is congratulating herself on a good job well done. All of a sudden she finds herself hanging in midair and then slamming to the ground, all in an undignified pile of limbs.]

[She hops to her feet, fists up again reflexively, defensive and ready to strike back. If she had any blood to circulate, she'd be pink in the face.]

And what did I do wrong that time?

You let me get my hands on you.

[There's a hint of a smile on her lips as she watches Mal hop up, and there's a light in her green eyes as she rolls her shoulders in a small motion. She's eager. That's fun. Still willing to try, and more perplexed than pissed.]

The way you fight, you line up all your moves before you start, and anyone who knows what they're doing can call it before you even take your first swing. You need to be more flexible. Think while you're fighting, not just before.

You can try again, if you want. I'm not stopping you.

[Aside from in the obvious sense. Hey, maybe Mal will get lucky if she tries enough.]

[Think while you're fighting. Okay. She can do that. Theoretically.]

[She circles Natasha again, considering. Should she try again? Should she wait until another day? Really, there's no question. Once again, her pride stands in the way of her standing down. She's going to get this at least close to right if it's the last thing she does.]

[Which, to be fair, it might be.]

[This time, when she charges, it's not only quick but agile, dodging left, right, left again, her center of gravity low, knees bent and eyes narrowed. She doesn't strike out right away - just tries to get past Natasha without being thrown.]

[Mal is fast, she thinks, faster than she should be. Excellent agility, too, and for the first time Natasha finds herself wondering if she's enhanced, or possibly not human at all. Nat's got the benefit of years of combat reflexes, and even she's pressed to counter this time, eyes narrowing slightly as she focuses, shifts her weight, and...drops to the ground with one leg out to trip Mal. It's easily avoided, if she's paying attention, and the fact that Natasha doesn't try to grab her this time says something about that speed.]

[It's exhilirating, being able to put someone as good as Natasha on the defensive. She grins and skirts past her, barely hopping over her leg but managing to dodge just in time. She can't help a wild laugh, spinning on her heel and landing square on both feet.]

What next?

[Hey, at least she didn't feel the need to say What else have you got? She was really tempted to.]

[It's good that Mal is learning, not so good that she's cocky about it. That cockiness is going to get her killed, Natasha thinks, and she doesn't bother responding with qords. Instead, with a quick twist, a push of her hands, she's closing the yard between them on the floor and swiftly moving to tangle Mal's legs in an attempt to bring her to the floor. If she pulls it off, she looks at her opponent with arched eyebrows, green eyes irritated but amused. If not, she comes to her feet close enough to grab Mal, well inside her defense.]

Next, we teach you not to gloat while your opponent is still conscious.

[She does pull it off, easily, because Mal is focused on something else: herself. She hits the floor with a thump, all the air going out of her and leaving her in a surprised and somewhat pained pile. Her expression when she looks up at Natasha is vaguely sheepish.]

Only after they've gone to sleep, then. Understood.

[Getting up now. Ow.]

[Natasha lets her get to her feet, climbing back to her own easily enough, and she's looming thoughtfully at Mal.]

When you fight, you treat it like a game. You take your turn, then your opponent takes theirs. It's more like dancing. Or a conversation, if you don't dance. Things change. You have to adapt. Go with the flow of it, get a feel for what's coming next. I might be able to show you.

Might?

[Despite herself, she gives another cocky little smile at that. She believes herself to be eminently teachable, despite her attitude, so she feels absolutely free to tease on this subject.]

[Natasha likes confidence. But there's a thin border between encouraging confidence and enabling arrogance, and for that reason her expression remains cool and analytical as she looks Mal over again.]

Might. It'd take a lot of work. You're also considerably older than I was when I started, so it may not be worth it. Of course, if you're willing to really work for it...

[Pause for effect--]

...maybe.

[She visibly deflates. Wouldn't for everyone, but Natasha is someone for whom she has already developed a great respect and would like to see that respect returned. The fact that it clearly isn't is distinctly disappointing.]

I can work for it. [She's almost too quick to answer.]

[She can respect Mal. Does, to a certain extent, but that cockiness is going to get her killed if she doesn't watch out. Natasha would rather be cruel than responsible. Arching her eyebrows, she meets Mal's gaze, looking for a better answer.]

You say that now. Is it going to be the same answer a week from now? That's what I wonder. It's the problem with having natural gifts. You want to rely on them, and nothing else. I'm not going to waste my time if you just want to pick up a few neat tricks to show off.

It's not about tricks.

[She goes serious all of a sudden, her eyes sharp and piercing, her considerable attention fixed on Natasha and Natasha alone.]

I don't want to get anyone killed.

[That's the reason she wants to do this in the first place. If being careless is going to get people like Polly and Cassandra killed, she has to improve. No one's driven it home quite the way that Natasha has, but she gets it now. She thinks she gets it.]

[It's a look she hasn't seen on Mal's face before. Despite the fact that she's seen very little of Mal's face before now, though, she gets the feeling it isn't a look that shows up often. Good. If she can make her think, that's good. Means she's got a Reason for it, something that'll keep her on her toes and looking sharp. Studying her for another long moment, Natasha finally gives her the smallest of shrugs.]

Dancing lessons once a week, if we aren't all dead or otherwise preoccupied. If you're really willing to work.

Dancing lessons?

[She almost makes a face. Dancing is not . . . something she does. But she schools her expression quickly enough that the most Natasha might notice is a flicker. There is no point in questioning her right now. She seems to know best (something Mal is loathe to admit for most people), and Mal does want to improve.]

What kind of dancing?

[Even if her expression is only a flicker, there's plenty of dismay in her voice. Enough to make her opinion eminently obvious. She only gets a calm look in reply.]

Depends on yhe day. And on how quickly you learn. Unless you don't want to learn from me. I'm sure you know other people who can teach you.

I'm not going to beg you.

[Okay, she is a little irritated now.]

I told you I'd do it. So I'll do it.

[She's satisfied with that answer. Irritation and all. Means that Mal is thinking about things, she thinks, that it isn't just some mindless fun. That's important to her.]

Good. Look me up, next time you come to see Polly. We'll get started.

[She nods, her hackles lowering a little bit.]

I will. Tomorrow, probably. [Since she comes to see Polly every day anyway.]

I hope you're ready for me. [And another trace of that wolfish grin, one she can't quite get rid of for good.]

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tothefly - 2015-05-28 02:01 (UTC) - Expand