fandomtownies | Fight Club, Atlas Gym, Sunday Evening

"Well, most of you are looking refreshingly back to your original shapes," Ghanima said crisply. "I hope many of you enjoyed your second or third childhoods, and many congratulations on not managing to kill each other with the nerf toys last week."

"Being back to normal means no ball pit this week," Tyler added. "I know. I'm crushed, too. Welcome to Fight Club. Rules are posted over there, and if this is your first week sign in and let us know what your level is."

"Like last time, we'll both be around keeping an eye on things, and I'll be over by the beginner mats for the first bit," Ghanima stated. "Now, you and you. You two. And you two too." She turned to Tyler, smiling brightly. "Care to pick the last victims?"

"You know the way to my heart, Ghanima," Tyler joshed, and looked over the group for a long moment. "You, hiding in the back, and you by the padding. And both of you. And that makes five sets. Go forth and punch."

[Preplayed with

atreideslioness. Up early for SP~~, wait a sec for OCD~~.]

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Dinah watched, and waited, and concentrated on her breathing. Wearing herself out chasing Liir wasn't going to do any more good than not being able to get him down.

She kept her stance open and ready. One one thousand. Two one thousand. Three one thousand....

He darted forward again, fast, as he did when practicing gooseball, and this time threw a tight punch at the shoulder joint.

Oh Nameless Name, let her be fast enough to stop me. And I hope she doesn't hate me.

Ha! Got him to move! Finally!

Dinah whipped her arm up to block the punch, shoving it upward with a grin and letting it slide down the outside of her arm, then powering her other arm forward in a punch to his sternum.

Edited 2009-03-23 01:53 (UTC)

His stance let him turn easily enough, but her shove overextended him somewhat and so he didn't have as much of his weight to throw as he would have usually. The result had her knuckles running across his chest in line that very well might leave a mark.

He ignored it and used what power he did have, from the turn and from his stance, to throw his elbow at the side of her head.

Lurline Lurline Lurline.

Dinah saw it coming; not fast enough to duck out of the way, but fast enough to roll with it, and while he'd thrown a good punch, it wasn't as hard as Mr. Durden's by a large measure. So it wasn't that hard to back off, blink, shake off the pain, and return to ready, still grinning.

Much better!

And a one-two combination aimed for his stomach again, if he didn't back off too.

He backed off.

He was reeling, somewhat, just from...

He'd connected. He'd connected!

Oh goodness, he was going to be ill.

Later! He'd be ill later. Right now, he'd started a fight and he should give Dinah a fight. He'd be ill later.

He settled into his stance, steadied his breathing, and looked to Dinah to make sure she was all right.

Dinah was fine; this was just playtime for her. The grin probably showed that, if not the quick punch aimed at his side, followed with a low kick to the side of his knee, hoping to catch him off-balance.

He was glad she was all right, but the grin. The grin brought up some of his bitterness, even though it was unbidden. He liked Dinah, very much, so he wasn't particularly pleased with himself that he hated that she was grinning. Like this was a game!

He expected it to make him worse, but it actually helped. He swerved around the punch and even as the kick was to land, lashed out with his own leg to try and kick her away.

For Dinah it was; after all, no powers, no imminent death, no one to protect other than herself. Simple. One two three punch and dodge and kick--

and in this case, whoops! Their legs got tangled up, more by luck than anything else, and Dinah lost her balance. Not wanting to land on him, but wanting to end this, she grimaced and grabbed for his arm, twisting as hard as she could and throwing her weight the other direction, hoping to execute the same throw that had worked on Priestly, even if it was a lot more sloppy.

He was thrown but, thanks to his training... rolled with it. When he stood, though--

"Good bout?" he asked, obviously a little, well, done. He'd played the part, he'd thrown a punch or two; now he just sort of wanted desperately to bake something.

"Awwwww," Dinah said, disappointed it was over. "Well. Okay." She grinned at him, aiming a friendly non-pain-causing punch at his upper arm. "Nice job! And you said you couldn't fight! More punching next time. You're really good at dodging, but anyone who had more patience than I do would've had you."

He didn't react to the punch much other than to smile.

"I can't hit" much and oh, roiling stomach or perhaps just the intellectual equivolent "but I can move. That's simple enough. Thank you, though. For, you know."

Dinah cocked her head, blinking a little, then grinned. "You're welcome for the spar. And thank you too! And you did hit. Not very much, or very aimed. But you can do it," she encouraged. "You just have to need to, that's all."

"I suppose I do. I hadn't actually even tried since, oh, sweet Lurline, not for almost a year now. No, maybe a few months?"

Just because it was all up there didn't mean he could make sense of it all the time.

"But yes. You're very welcome. You're, er, all right, yes?"

"Oh, sure," Dinah said, surprised. "Nothing more than a tap." She tilted her head. "You too? I mean, you're okay, right?"

He nodded with a smile.

"Just fine."

He peered into his shirt at his chest for a moment before pursing his lips and nodding again.

"Just fine, really. I'm used to worse."

It was said with a smile.

Fight Club, Atlas Gym, Sunday Evening

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