Cat Calling Leads To Mat Falling
Roleplaying Log: Cat Calling Leads To Mat Falling
Participants
IC Details
Synopsis:

Trish uses her investigative skills to find Logan's number. She contacts him to ask for a meeting, where she asks for his help in training to fight.

Other Characters Referenced:
IC Date: July 27, 2019
IC Location: Training Room, Manhattan
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 18 Aug 2019 19:26
Rating & Warnings: PG13
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

She asked him if he remembered her in the message she sent. Of course he remembered her, despite his occasional bouts of amnesia. He remembered the seeming ingenue who had made her way to the mercenary bar seeking answers and a path to find out what she needed to find out. He'd been there, seeking his own answers. And ended up giving her what he could.
And then he held the message in his hand, in the burner phone he used to deal with some of the less savory elements that he sometimes draws on. At first he shook his head and considered throwing it aside. But the facts of the matter… they were curious. She'd managed to extract information about him, to find out from what brief time they had together a way to get this to him. Which means she's passingly decent at her job.
Dangerous to leave that out there without an understanding of what made this loose end a loose end. So he'd texted back that he'd be there. And when. And then it was just a matter of heading out. Reaching that address, and then climbing those stairs.

* * *

A training studio. That's where it's been requested they meet. There's a few exercise related bits of equipment. A punching bag. It's not the biggest, nor most extravagant, but it will serve any purpose that a certain blonde has in mind. Said blonde, Trish Walker, booked out the entire place. The has the money, that wasn't an issue. She just had to make sure she found the right price that the owner was willing to accept.

She's wearing stretchy pants and a slightly loose sleeveless top, she's currently at the punching bag, just giving it the ol' one-two punch. She's mostly biding her time until her guest of honour shows up. Every now and then she glances up at a clock on the wall. It's just about the time they said they'd meet. It's the moment of truth.

* * *

The doorway is darkened, then the silhouette in the window is there. She might have a moment or two to ready herself before he twists the doorknob and enters the room. For a time he looks the place over, dark blue eyes lifting to focus on point to point to point. The training equipment, the punching bag, the clock on the wall. The blonde. She can see his face tighten a little, but then he gives a single nod and murmurs what might pass for a greeting with him.
"Hey."
Further into the room he moves. He's wearing brown leather boots, blue jeans, and a loose red flannel shirt that's buttoned up to the top save for the last button.
"Alright Walker," His lip twists a little, almost a half-smile. At least he's in a better mood than he was before. "What's the deal?"

* * *

Clucking her tongue, Trish nods. "Hey." She walks over to her bag near the wall and picks up her towel, patting away any sweat that may have built up. "Thanks for coming." She looks around and shrugs. "The deal? What deal?" She plays coy at first, smirking.

"Okay, look, first I really did want to give you my sincere thanks for helping me out at that bar." She rests the towel over her shoulder. "Second, you are a mystery, aren't you? Either people don't wanna talk for some reason, or there's just not that much out there about you. Which, you know, as someone who has lived in the limelight for so long? Kudos."

She clears her throat. "And then, well, third, I was wondering if you might give me some pointers for fighting? You know, nothing fancy." She's determined to learn fighting from multiple sources. She figures if she learns just one style, she'll never be able to broaden her horizons, or find her own style. If she learns from multiple people, in multiple styles, she can figure out what works best for her and go from there.

* * *

The blue eyes of the man follow her, watching, gauging. It's almost as if each movement of hers was being judged. Not in the way she may be used to. When a man spares a double take for an attractive woman like herself. Something else.
Each word uttered. Each emote offered. He's entirely focused on her and testing her. Testing the scent of her exertion that is carried on the faint breeze that the air conditioning offers the room. Testing the way she stands and walks across the room. Testing the sincerity that he gleans from those eyes.
And he can tell. Can tell she means what she says. There is something more there. Something she isn't mentioning. But her actions before now had been laudable. Perhaps these were as well.
It might surprise her when he gives a single nod and says, "Alright." Clearly she's serious. Clearly she's taken steps. So he just shrugs a little and says, "Alright, what do you wanna learn?" And as easy as that he starts to unbutton his shirt, taking it off of the sleeveless white t-shirt that's worn beneath.

* * *

Looking at him with curiosity, Trish tilts her head slightly. That was easier than she thought it would be. Then again, she wasn't exactly sure what to expect. Throwing the towel back to her bag, she smiles. Making sure her hair is back and help in a ponytail, she considers his question.

"Well, I mean, I'm not exactly sure." And it's true. "How do you fight? Defend yourself? Whatever it is you do, I want to learn. I've taken Krav Maga…which is this Israeli fighting style. It's great and all, but I don't feel like it really teaches me how to fight when I'm out on the streets, you know?"

With her hands on her hips, she lightly taps a foot as she gets her thoughts together. Finally she says, "Essentially, I want you to teach me how you fight."

* * *

"Krav Maga is a good system," Logan says as he pulls that shirt from being tucked into his jeans. Once it's free he tosses it aside. And perhaps it's because he was wearing such baggy clothes before, or perhaps the way he had been sitting was deceptive the first time they had met… now with just the sleeveless white t-shirt, she can see how well developed he is. How powerfully developed and with strong broad shoulders and a thick chest with a layer of thick almost fur.
He leans back against the wall to take off one boot, then the other. Setting them aside but leaving on the socks. The last thing is that leather belt set to the side as well. "
"S'good, straight to the point, lethal if you don't hold back." Not exactly how he fights, but then he nods to her as he steps out onto the blue mats that are set there for training.
"Just show me what you got. Take me down best way you know how."
And with that he turns to face her.

* * *

"I started training in it when…" Trish pauses. He didn't exactly ask for her backstory. "Needless to say, it was nice to feel empowered." She explains as she watches him get ready for their own training session. She wasn't exactly expecting him to be as big and buff as he is. Though, she can't say she wasn't expecting it. She just really wasn't sure what to expect from him.

She rubs the back of her neck and nods. "Lethal…true enough. Honestly, while lethal may have its place at times, that part of fighting kind of scares me." She lets out a slow breath. "If I have to get into a fight with someone, I don't exactly want to kill, not even by accident."

She moves onto the mat and faces Logan as well. "Are you ready for this?" There's a pause and she actually laughs. "I'm sorry. Obviously you are. I guess the real question is, am I ready for this?"

She shakes her head and takes a deep breath in. "Okay…" She gets into a fight ready stance, knees slightly bent, one leg a bit behind the other. After a few seconds, she makes a move to grab Logan by the shoulders and swipe one of her legs around his so as to cause him to fall down. If it works.

* * *

When he sees what stance she adopts he mirrors it perfectly, nodding to her as she hunkers down and gets ready. His hands are held up and his blue eyes lock with hers. "Watch the eyes, but pay attention to yer peripheral. First hint of a strike comes from the eyes. Unless they're good, then you won't get a hint."
As he imparts that wisdom he waits, then she moves in. She gets that grab on his shoulder and tries to get her leg into play. Only, mebbe unlike some of her instructors, she gets no help from the heavy guy and /pulls/ his shoulder out of her grip. "Faster." He tells her, but not pulling back. Giving her the chance to execute and execute better.
One of the reasons Logan makes a good practice dummy. He's heavy, unbreakable, and heals if you hurt him. But if she makes the next try full speed hard as she can… she might well dump him to the mats.

* * *

When her first attempt fails, she doesn't seem disappointed. If anything, Trish almost seems to become more determined. "The eyes?" She nods. "Good note." She murmurs. "Pay attention to the peripheral." She notes aloud, mostly to herself. Saying things out loud can sometimes help her remember them. She shakes her arms a bit, wiggling her body and legs as if to loosen up a bit more.

"Okay." She takes a deep breath in, getting back in the stance she was in before, as it's one she's accustomed to.

She looks Logan over once more, just with her eyes, taking him in again, assessing him. Maybe using her enhanced speed and a bit of her enhanced strength is the way to go. Maybe she won't hurt him too bad.

And then she strikes, using her full speed as she planned, as well as a bit more of the strength that she's gained. This time, she manages to fell Logan, landing him on his back, a knee on his chest. "Better?" She asks cheekily, raising an eyebrow.

* * *

The mats crunched under the movement of their bodies, her feet causing a whisper of exhalation from the fabric as she then moved and got the knee in place. He hasn't struck back, hasn't countered. His arms are held out to the sides palms open as his eyes hold hers and he nods.
"Better." He echoes the word, then his jaw tenses and he says simply. "Now what's the follow up? Your opponent is on the ground. You don't have time. Might be more even if you think it's just you and him. You take him down, you take the fight out of him. Permanently if you have to and no I don't mean killin'." It's clear he's seen his share of fights, more than his fair share of battles.
"You've made this decision. Most fights are won by the first person ta decide that it's a fight. But you've made it, and it ain't over. You got reason ta think yer life's in danger otherwise you wouldn'ta done this."
His features narrow. "What's yer next move?"

* * *

"I suppose," Trish answers slowly, thinking about her answer. "I want to know him out? A swift knock to the head would probably do the trick." There's a pause. "And I guess I'd want to keep an eye on my surroundings, as best I can, to make sure that there's nobody else, yeah? If it so happens that there's more people than I thought."

With another swift movement, she standing up again, holding out her hand to Logan so she can help him back up. "Yeah, I guess knocking him out would be my next move, so I don't have to worry about him any longer. That's probably what I'd do."

* * *

Shaking his head, Logan meets her gaze and then grasps her forearm with one hand. "If you got time… And yer tryin' ta keep quiet, several moves from here. But this is a mindset thing." And then, with no warning she'll feel him plant a sock-covered foot against her hip while pulling down on her arm and twisting smoothly to the side. It's a blur of movement and then their positions are reversed as he takes her to the mat with a /thud/ hard enough to cause a hiccup of breath but not knock it from her lungs.
"You got an opponent here, you maintain hold of their arm, it's a fulcrum, it's gonna do some of the work for you." He draws her arm back and taut and then rests a foot very gently against the side of her enck. "Pull back, press with your weight to the throat, they pass out, hold counta twenty. Release, evac."
"Not trusting your balance, kneel on their throat, same deal. Better leverage, closer to attack though." He lightly shifts position and rests his shin over her throat but makes sure again not to exert pressure.
"But, if speed is most important. You don't want them gettin' up. Quickest," He rises and once again extends her arm. "You want to shatter their collar bone. If you only got time for one strike, you do that. For me it'd be with a punch, you prolly got more strength in your legs," He gives her a nod and then lifts his foot, "Stamp down, or an axe kick if you know how."
He then gently twists her arm until it catches, "You got a few seconds more, break the arm, dislocate the shoulder, then turn…" He does so, "And stomp the knee. Though you might need more leverage, pick up the ankle…" He takes her ankle in both hands and then presses his shin down against her knee, though without pressure. "Shatter the knee."
Once that's done he extracts and offers a hand to her to help her rise. "But main thing here, Walker. Is yer not playin' games. Knockin' someone out ain't easy. Sometimes it can be, but ya can't trust it for sure."

* * *

Taking his words and example to heart, Trish nods and accepts the helping hand back up. This goes on for the next few hours, him getting her to show him what she knows, and then him turning around and giving an example of what she could do instead. She learns tactics and techniques that she wouldn't have known of before, paying keen attention to what she's being taught.

While her enhanced endurance has allowed her to go for quite some time without a break, a time does come when she knows even her own new limits. At least until she can truly scope out the extent of her new enhanced abilities. For now, however, she calls for a time out. But after a few hours nonstop, it's longer than some people may have lasted.

"This is really teaching me a lot." She says as she heads to her bag. She pulls out two bottles of water, offering one to Logan. "I can't thank you enough for agreeing to take me on. As you can tell, I need a bit of teaching."

* * *

It had been a good amount of time, and Logan didn't seem like he needed a break though there was a healthy sheen of sweat to his brow and that made that t-shirt somewhat see through. And, to be fair, he definitely could use a shower. But he had given her some good angles on what she knew. Things she could execute to hopefully make her movements more effective. Practical advice that might serve.
So now, with a time out called, he accepts the water and settles back against the wall, sliding down it to rest at the bottom of it with his legs slightly raised, forearms resting on his knees.
A glance is given to the bottle and his lip twists, smiling perhaps the first time she's seen it when it's not twisted with something sardonic or cruel. "Got a beer?"

* * *

Sliding down against the wall next to Logan, Trish lets out a long breath and opens her water, taking a sip. She chortles, shaking her head, a little grin on her face. "I'm afraid not. It's not like this is my gym at home." Not that she makes a habit of drinking after working out there either. "But I'll keep that in mind for next time…if there is a next time." She looks at him as if to ask whether he'd be open to more lessons.

"What was the beer we had at that bar? Melvin? Morestore?" She taps the side of her water bottle as she thinks. "Molson?" She shrugs. "Whatever it was, maybe I'll have a minifridge stocked with it, just for you."

She chuckles as she takes another sip of her beer. "So, did you learn all that before or during your time as a mercenary?" She can't help but be curious about his past.

* * *

"Molson's," Logan tilts his head to the side, eyeing her sidelong. But it's less a growly wary eyeballing and more a slightly smiling companionable thing. You can't work out for four hours with someone, straining and striving against each other in a sparring match and elaborate lessons… without building some measure of camaraderie.
He takes a deep breath, and he's so damn warm, the heat coming off his body almost as if he had a fever even as his healing factor counters the toxins such exertion builds up in him. He brings the bottle up to his brow and wipes it slowly over it, his hair slicked back from all the effort and exercise.
He looks at her sidelong and then says with a wry half-smirk, "Mebbe." About there being another time. "If ya twist my arm." Figuratively. Probably. "You keep a fridgea beer around and that's definitely a reason fer a visit now and again."
But then she asks of his past and he holds up a hand, "That's a long story, Walker. But the Krav Maga? Was after."

* * *

Even Trish's own Krav Maga classes were never quite this intense. At least not for the same length of time. Usually they'd be an hour a session, give or take. "Molson's. Right. Well, if you think you have more to teach me," she glances sidelong to her sparring companion, "then I might be able to finagle some Molson's for ya."

She leans her head back against the wall and sighs softly. "You know, I might just twist that arm of yours one of these days." There's a humour behind her words. "Or I'll just give you a bunch of Molson's and see if that loosen's your lips at all." She takes another sip from her water.

"You know, I never could resist a good, long story. I might just have to keep asking until I get you to tell me that story of yours." She smiles and turns her head to look at Logan. "Of course, there's a chance you may just tell me nothing."

* * *

"Mmm," He says again, looking up towards the ceiling, eyes widening a moment, then relaxing as he takes a drink of the water, holding the bottle light in one hand as he eyes her sidelong. "I've been doin' this a long time, Walker, and I'm still learnin'. Always good ta train." His lip twists a little as he then turns his had to meet her gaze. He really does have very blue eyes, "Even if it's with an insufferable reporter gal."
At that he turns his head away, grinning as he does so, and takes another nice long drink of water. But he takes a deep breath, letting his eyes close as he rests his head back against the wall. "And mebbe you're right. Maybe I will tell you everything somme day. Far off in the future. If we're still friends."
Which might be the first she heard of the whole friend thing. Is that what it is? Maybe.

* * *

"Still learning, huh?" Well, at least Trish knows that even if she's not perfect that it doesn't matter. She has to remind herself that there's no such thing as perfection. It's all just a state of mind. No matter what she learns, or how much she practices, she'll still have plenty to learn.

She takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly, occasionally glancing toward the man at her side. "Aww, you really see me as a reporter?" She places a hand on her chest and makes a sound as if she's choking up with emotion. "That is so sweet. Of all the insufferables I could be, that is by far the best one.

"Wait, did you say 'still friends'?" Her grin widens.

* * *

A small snort comes from him, a sound that might almost be a laugh if it was given just a bit more life. He shakes his head and looks up to the ceiling, eyes almost rolling as he then looks over toward her. "Don't push it."
But his eyes do look into hers and his head tilts slightly to the side. There's a faint furrow to his brow as he looks at her there in that particular moment, bedraggled all ragged and worn from the efforts of training. His eyes narrow slightly and then he leans over to reach a hand out.
Maybe there's an ease of boundaries between people who have fought for a bit together, practiced, trained, whatever. They had each thrown each other around bunches of times, and his arm had been around her throat a few times, and her foot had been on his neck. So there was some familiarity there.
But whatever it was, might make it no less weird when he leans over and almost gingerly brushes a small bit of escaped mat fluff out of her hair. Just a brief movement as he murmurs in that low rumble of a voice. "You got some… schmootz there."
And as quick as that he smirks and then looks back away.

* * *

"No? Don't push it? But…just like Salt-N-Pepa, all I know how to do is push it, push it real good!" Trish giggles softly into her bottle as she takes another drink from it. There is a bit of curiosity in her gaze as he begins to reach out. What's he about to do? Where is this going? It feels too late to shake hands. She watches intently as the hand movies.

When he he gets rid of the fluff, she tilts her head. "Schmootz, huh? Well, it's a good thing you were here to get rid of it. If I ended up walking around out in public with something in my hair, the press would just have a field day." She jokes. Well, half-jokes.

* * *

Pushing himself to his feet, Logan grimaces and takes the last swig from the bottle, then crunches it up in one hand. He tilts his head to the side and considers the room as a whole then gives her a nod. "Alright, Walker. You need anything more you send a message. But for now…"
He walks over and starts gathering up his clothes, though the first is the belt that's slid around his waist. Doesn't take long, then the shirt is buttoned up and he starts to pull his boots on.
"If you only remember one thing from this whole mess, just remember when yer out there. Don't take it easy. Go hard on them, because they'll go hard on you." That said he straightens and thumps his boots down a bit before he lifts a hand.
"Take care of yourself, Walker." And with that he steps on out the door.


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