master_bruce | OOM: Date

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OOM: Date

He's more nervous about this than he'd care to admit. It's not helped by the fact that when the time came to go and meet X, he couldn't find a route to the bar. He'd resorted to opening every door in Wayne Manor and...well. It's a really big house.

Eventually, it was the front door that gave in and put him out of his misery. So he'd taken a breath and gone on through, dressed casually in jeans and a plain, untucked, white shirt and sneakers. It had taken a while to decide on what to wear because he had no way of predicting what she would wear and had guessed, in the end, that she'll opt for casual as well. Especially as they talked about sparring. And...caves. Maybe.

So, here he is. Jeans and combed hair, clean shaved and just a dash of expensive cologne, opening the door from Milliways onto the expanse of entrance hall that welcomes people to Wayne Manor.

There is also an Alfred, which he was not expecting. An enquiring look at his friend receives a silent reply of I know when you're getting ready to meet a young lady, Master Bruce, conveyed neatly with just the lifting of one corner of his mouth.

Bruce looks at X, slightly off-stride already.

'This is Alfred. Alfred, this is...X.'

If the man looks suprised at the name, nothing shows. He's far too professional for that.

'A pleasure to meet you, ma'am. Is there anything you require?'

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X's style is poetic if one finds ruthless, brutal efficiency beautiful -- or if one is fond of the spare quality of translated haiku, perhaps.

But at this precise moment X is all speed as she spins out of a backhand blow, takes two diagonal running steps, and launches herself at the wall.

Behind Bruce.

She springboards off of that, twisting into a kick that she mercifully does not direct at his face. She does, however, bring her full weight to bear in riding him down, at the same time as she rests the knuckles of one hand lightly against his throat.

"Dead."

Edited 2010-05-20 21:33 (UTC)

And he does. Bruce isn't about fighting for show, or style. He wants to learn how to do a job and, as she's just proven, she's more than adept at it. That sort of efficiency is where he wants to be and he loves seeing it now.

Of course, it does hurt a bit. But he's used to that and it just proves how well it works.

'I think...I'm surprised I lasted that long. And only because you were being sporting.'

There's no hint of injured pride, no ego. He just wants to learn how to do it.

X slips to the side and stands up, head tilting as she looks down at him.

She is not sure if he requires help to stand.

Then --

"I do not want to kill you. Or make you bleed."

This is where she hesitates.

"And I am not as good at defense. Practice will help."

If he is no too sore, that is. There is a limit to how careful X can be -- to how careful anyone can be.

This is not a surprise.

He smiles properly and sits up.

'I'm glad to hear it. Not when we're on a date, anyway.'

In case that made her awkward, he rolls to his feet so she won't have to reply or see his face or anything.

'You want me to attack then? Though I have to say, with moves like that? I doubt you ever need defence.'

"I do not want to kill you when we are not on a date, either."

In case that required clarification. At least she didn't hesitate over the terminology.

Though she does pause fractionally after that, taking a few slow steps back to give Bruce room for -- whatever it is he is going to do next.

"It is better to know more than you need. Just in case."

Her style, for instance, is not as effective if her healing powers are not functioning.

He pauses too, looking sideways at her with an expression both amused and pleased.

'Well, I'm even more glad to hear that. Though I suppose you wouldn't be here if you did.'

She would just...have made him bleed already, no doubt. And he's moving back towards the middle of the tatami, bouncing a little on his toes, ready for the next round.

'No such thing as useless information. Ready?'

"You do not need to ask," she says, and she means it.

X is always ready.

She's also moving to meet Bruce in the middle of the tatami, gaze steady and watchful, arms relaxed at her sides.

It is his turn to make the first move.

This is only fair.

He is perfectly willing for the fight not to be fair. In fact, it isn't, because she's so much better than he is. And that's just fine with him.

No warning then. He sweeps a low kick, aiming to take her legs out and knowing it won't, readying himself to follow up. It's hard to be ready simply because he has no way of knowing how she'll react - a normal person is easy for him now but she? Is not normal. And not easy.

X leaps right into a tight diving roll, breaking out of it only to stand up and close with him.

If he lets her get a grip for an over-the-hip throw, that is his own fault.

Not this time. He turns ninety degrees on the spot as she stands so he's facing her side, throwing a hard elbow round at her face and aiming to kick the back of her knee out at the same time. He's also aware that she could drop and go for his legs so he's ready to move, trying to think ahead and stay one step in front.

She blocks the elbow but takes the kick, letting her knee give as she drops to the ground.

Using that leg and her free hand to brace herself, she kicks up and out with her other leg, heel striking for Bruce's upper thigh.

Purely defensive moves are just going to have to wait for later.

He's not still standing though - as she drops he goes with her, arm snaking around her throat and using his weight to try and stop her either pushing back up or throwing him over her shoulder. His other arm is trying to provide the necessary lock to turn it into a decent strangle hold; he wishes he could switch off the part of him that figures she'll already have a way out of this.

For some reason, he's having a little trouble focusing but it might be due to this being the first time he's had a full-on fight with a girl.

Maybe.

X turns her head to get her windpipe into the crook of Bruce's elbow, buying herself an extra second or two of consciousness.

Then she reaches for his encircling arm, grabbing his wrist in both hands and yanking down. In the same moment she lets her body drop as well, trying to use the momentum to twist free and out of the headlock.

If it works she'll try to keep her grip on his arm and twist it up behind his back.

If not --

Well. If not, there's always the claws.

It does work. Partly because he doesn't actually want to strangle her but also because she's damn strong and she yanks hard. He was expecting it but it still surprises him, the strength of her grip and the speed at which he's half pulled over her shoulder and off to the side.

He rolls to his feet and immediately launches a kick to her head, swift and sharp, already thinking a few moves ahead but also half resigned to none of them working.

She blocks that kick, whirling to retaliate with a spinning back kick of her own.

There is no smile on her face, because she has never been that kind of fighter. But she's starting to push faster, harder --

Because he can take it.

And because she is really and truly not built for defense. Practice or not, it shows.

The harder she pushes, the more he's able to focus, pushing everything away but the adrenaline that comes from a fight, no matter who it's with.

The spinning kick is blocked and he grabs her ankle, pushing it against its trajectory in an effort to get her off-balance so he can make an opening to strike.

He's trained as much in defence as attack. He's only human but he is good.

She goes with the push, taking the opportunity to drop her hands to the floor again and kick back at him with her free foot. Twisting her body at the same time in order to wrest her foot out of his grasp is just a bonus.

Not that she thinks about it like that, especially not in the middle of combat.

But it is --

Good, to take the measure of someone new, someone good. Someone who is not at all afraid of her -- or of hurting her.

She could keep this up all day. But out of deference to Bruce's human constitution -- and the possibility of caving -- she won't.

He's in excellent shape and he's enjoying himself. But yes, eventually, he starts to tire and she's given him more than a few bruises. He's grinning when he looks up from the tatami and pushes his hair out of his eyes.

'OK, time out. Time out.'

Not that he's admitting defeat.

But only because that was self-evident since about a minute into the session.

'I need a drink.'

She breaks off immediately, taking a half-step back.

After a momentary silence, during which she studies him very intently --

"Something with electrolytes."

Beat.

"For me, too."

It is only sensible.

'Sure thing.'

He stands and wanders over to something on the wall that looks like an intercom. Because that is what it is, only a high-tech sort of thing. And asks for some drinks to be brought down.

He should really put a fridge in here but hasn't got around to it.

'At some point, you're going to have to teach me how to beat you.'

He may also be wondering about that studied look she just gave him. Bad thing or good thing? With X, it's hard to tell.

X tilts her head very slightly, then steps off the mat to meet him.

She is still barefoot.

"That would be stupid."

It comes out matter-of-fact.

And maybe it's just a trick of the light that makes the corner of her mouth look like it curves up in a smile --

"But I will teach you to hold me off for longer. And other people, too."

-- or maybe it's got nothing to do with the light at all.

He laughs and has to concede that she's right.

Also? It's nice to see her smile.

'Well, hopefully you're not about to become a criminal in Gotham so being able to beat you wouldn't be a problem.'

Drinks arrive and he hands her a bottle before cracking open his own.

'But I see your point. And I'd appreciate whatever you can teach me.'

"Not just in Gotham."

She takes the offered bottle, opens it, and drinks -- just a small mouthful at first.

"I am a better teacher than I was. Before. I do not think it will be difficult."

Bruce is also probably a better student than a pre-teen or a seven-year-old.

X swallows another mouthful of water, flicking Bruce a glance to make sure he is drinking, as well --

Then crouches down to put her boots back on.

He is, indeed, drinking.

'No, not just in Gotham.'

And watching her too.

'Who was your first student?'

X hesitates at the question, fingers stilling on her laces.

And a moment later --

"Ingress. In Milliways."

Beat.

"I do not think my teammates count. At home."

Then she goes back to tying her boots.

"Why?"

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