vor | Luceti Appointments

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He smiles back on reflex. How cute.

"You're welcome."

Buffy was absolutely the sort of person who felt utterly gratified when someone else smiled back at her. Perhaps it was a side-effect from spending so much of her life around brooding men.

"Aaaand you're welcome, too. 'Cause you can sonsider this a very belated house-warming gift." A decided nod. She stepped back and surveyed their work.

Edited Date: 2012-07-17 05:14 pm (UTC)

He glances up at the new bag. "I'd...sort of thought you...never mind. Thanks." The smile widens a little in surprise.

"I stole it from the barracks. Don't tell anyone -- I'd hate to impugn upon my village-wide honour. But they have spares out the wazoo out there, anyway. No one will miss it.

Right," she clapped her hand together. "If you're not gonna try and hit me? I'm just gonna have to try and hit you."

"Go ahead." He goes naturally into a defensive stance. A good one, too.

She noted that stance with another nod and slid comfortably into one of her own. Side-facing: less of a target. Arms up. Fists loose. Front knee slightly bent to take most of her weight but her back leg was ready to take that burden should it be necessary. Like a looser version of a soto uke block. They had talked about Judo before -- and Buffy did want to return to that thought -- but for now she simply needed to coax Gregor into showing her what he was capable of achieving.

"Solar plexus," she called the shot because to do otherwise would be cruel. Better to let him block it. "In three, two, one..."

Buffy stepped into a middle lunge punch. She didn't want to hurt Gregor but she would do him no favours by going easy on him; instead, she tried to lash out with just about as much strength as if he was being attacked by a man of his own comparable size.

Gregor swiftly blocks the attack. It's not just Judo, or twice-a-year defense courses. It's also eightish years of military and pre-military training. With his free hand, he'll attempt a jab at her throat, intending to pull at the last second.

For those who didn't know her -- or know Slayers in general -- Buffy's behaviour might come across as reckless self-endangerment. She made no attempt to stop his jab (assuming she could soak that hit even if it wasn't pulled), and chose instead to snap her elbow against his side. Just below his rib-cage.

When the jab was pulled, she glanced up to catch his eyes for the half-second. Another smile. Clever, she was telling him. Nice move.

Edited Date: 2012-07-17 05:47 pm (UTC)

He absorbs the blow with an intake of breath. While she's trying to communicate telepathically, he'll try to grab her throat, twist her arm, and take her to the ground.

Buffy was okay -- good, even -- up until Gregor went for her throat. Although they were well-healed now, the last week had seen dark and unhealthy bruises around her neck from when the General had met her with the same move. From when he'd pinned her there and sank his blood into her veins.

Her desire to not be caught by the throat inspired more strength in her muscles. Her head bobbed down; she ducked. She pushed much of her might first into resisting his twist and second into hauling him up, off the ground, and over her shoulder. He, she hoped, would be the one on the ground. Not her.

The throw was clumsily started but it had the benefit of being powerful.

He is so astonished at being picked up that he indeed winds up on the ground, winded. Then, he's simply still, trying to figure out what just happened.

Instinct dropped her down onto his torso, a knee planted firmly on either side of his torso. A hand flattened against his chest -- just in case. Buffy sat there, breath heaving for a moment until...

"Oh, jeez." She drew her hand back as if it had been burned. "I-I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

"Yes. Just...surprised." He struggles a bit to sit up, as if the momentum of the fall is still carrying him downward. "Could I...?"

She rocked back onto her heels -- standing up and off of him. At least she offered an open palm to help him up.

"Here."

He looks warily at the offered hand before taking it, carefully measuring her strength as she pulls him up.

She hauled him up -- and with considerable strength; however, she'd been playing this game long enough to instinctively moderate her power to use only as much as was needed to deliver him expediently to his feet. It was just that other instincts had trumped her when it game to Gregor grabbing for her throat.

Buffy remained sheepish. "Must have eaten my spinach today."

"Genetic engineering?"

He keeps his tone neutral.

"What? No."

She rubbed at the back of her neck with the same hand she just freed from his. "I'm totally anti-plastic-surgery..."

"Plastic surgery is reconstructive and doesn't even touch the genotype."

"...My genotype is just fine, thank you very much."

He lets it go. Maybe it's something she's ashamed of. "Okay. What did I do wrong?"

"You underestimated me. You're in Luceti, now. Even tiny blondes can kick your ass. Expect the unexpected."

"It's..." He heaves a sigh. "So I need to be less...Vor."

"I think that depends on what being Vor really means...?"

Which was an invitation to explain it, of course.

"It means a lot of things. I suppose the somewhat sexist tendency toward chivalry is more inherent than it has to be, but in general, we don't hit women."