2013.05.07 - Know Your Opponent

After trying traditional canvas and cotton, graduating to leather and sand, and finally tearing right through a combination of high-density vinyl and water, One realized he needed something specialized to use as a heavy bag. To that end, he's secured a roughly man-sized log of dense hardwood from a carver's supply store. It's been further reinforced with a thin layer of steel held on by rivets, some of which have already popped loose. This contraption has to weigh at least a few hundred pounds, plus another fifty for the thick chain that strings it up to the ceiling. Thump-thump-CLANG. Thump-thump-CLANG. Over and over, the doctor strikes the steel surface, leaving dents with his bare hands as he practices a basic three-punch combination. Two high jabs, then a vicious right cross. Rather than varying his technique, he keeps working the same combo over and over, searching for flaws and eliminating them, perfecting it in every way he can. From the look of him, he's been at it for a while. He almost never sweats or runs short of breath, but right now he's doing both. His damp t-shirt has been cast aside, leaving him wearing loose, navy trunks and matching high-topped boxer's shoes. The gloves that complete the ensemble are still hanging far, far out of his reach, so he's settled for wrapping his hands in a heavy layer of tape.

While she hasn't been 'staying' at the warehouse with One, Fern has spent the best part of her free time here. Laundry, cooking, dishes, light training.... she always finds something to do to justify being around. She's even taken to leaving a few things over, so she doesn't have to cart a bag back and forth with workout clothes. Fern has, in fact, changed into said clothes, and she approaches where One is punishing the weight bag. Her steps are all but silent, thanks to the climbing shoes One bought her, and she pauses to watch him. Without thinking about it, her feet settle shoulder width apart, her stance comfortable, relaxed. Delicate hands clasp at the small of Fern's back and she makes no indication that she's going to interrupt until he decides to stop. Instead of her typical t-shirt, for these little workouts she's taken to sporting a tank top. Gives One just a little bit less to grab onto and it's cooler. Also in the interest of not giving him a good handhold, on those occasions he decides to 'surprise' her, she wears snug fitting yoga pants that end just below her knees. It doesn't make much of a difference, but every little bit helps.

One cocks his head to the side for a half-instant, but he doesn't pause his punching for another three combos. Then, smiling, he turns to face Fern. "You got pretty damn close that time," he says by way of greeting. "I actually smelled you before I heard you. Impressive." Now he cocks his head again, this time to the other side. He mimics Fern's stance, but holds one open hand out in front of him with the edge of his palm and fingers facing her. The other remains tucked behind his back. "Well?" he says. "Care to have a go? I'm all warmed up."

Fern's smile brightens as One turns, and she looks pleased with herself at his words. "Soon, I will be Ninja Waitress." Her nose wrinkles at him quickly, and her brows go up at the offer. Immediately her eyes narrow, turning calculating as if she's sizing him up. "Sure you're not too tired?" She doesn't even attempt to mask the tease. Blue eyes lift suddenly, finding the dangling boxing gloves. "How are you gonna get those down?"

One gives both of these questions some serious thought. Then a corner of his mouth tugs up into a crooked smile. "I'm sure I'll think of something," he says, answering both at the same time. "C'mon, you going to try and hit me or not?" It doesn't seem like he's going to leave her much choice in the matter. Slowly, steadily, he advances on her, still holding one hand out in front and keeping the other tucked away.

Fern shifts, left foot sliding forward as she puts that shoulder more toward One, left hand coming up to hover protectively, extended out a measure from her body, elbow down. Right hand comes up to shoulder level, also poised. She steps sideways as he advances. "I'll give you one more chance. You can walk away peacefully." One of these days her jokes are going to get her in trouble.

Sharp, deep-set eyes study Fern's stance, then One gives her a nod of approval. "Remember," he says. "Base, angle, leverage." Then he answers her peace proposal non-verbally. When he attacks, it's with a single extended finger that he jabs toward her breastbone. A thump that might sting if it lands, but even he can't break bones with one finger.

Fern twists as she pushes her left arm out to deflect the poke, trying to minimize his target while she defends it. It's moderately successful, but she'll never be quick enough to avoid it entirely. "Ow!" She voices her displeasure immediately, "Stop poking me with your boney fingers." With that she twists again, this time leading with her right, attempting to return the volley to his midsection, flat hand pushing forward.

That outstreched arm twists, giving Fern's blow an angled surface to slide off of. "Close," One says, allowing her another nod. "You're getting better. And really? Stop poking you with my fingers. I'm letting that one go because it's too easy." His crooked smile is back in place as he attacks again, still with one finger, this time aiming for the middle of her forehead.

"Well, if you're gonna do it, then do it right," Fern counters impishly, hesitating and getting a sound jab in the forehead. "Dammit! Move like normal people." As if she's ever been in a situation where she's needed to defend herself from anyone normal. She dances a few steps sideways, bouncing on her feet more as she starts reacting to his 'threat' more seriously. "Alright, now I'm ready for ya."

This elicits a chuckle from One. "I've heard you say that before." He advances again, finally taking his other hand from behind his back. The first two pokes were the jabs. This is the proverbial 'cross' of his three-punch combo, still delivered with a single finger.

As One advances, Fern retreats, at first matching him, then trying to move faster as the third of the set comes. Her arm comes up in an attempt to block, deflecting more of the blow than she has on previous attempts. Still, she huffs out an impatient breath.

"C'mon!" One urges her. "I'm bigger than you. Faster. Stronger. That means you have to be smarter than me. What are my weaknesses? My ego. I don't think I can be beaten. I can be tricked into making mistakes." He takes a step forward, holding both hands in front of himself now. "More than that, I don't think I can be beaten by /you/. I underestimate regular people. I'm pompous. Arrogant. So put that all together and come up with something to use against me!"

Ego. That's not Fern's biggest advantage over One. She knows what'll get to him before anything else, and it's something he wouldn't expect. Lips pressed together determinedly, Fern scowls at One before she makes her move. Both her hands drop, grabbing the hem of her tank and lifting.

"Oh, now that's just unsportsman... okay. You win." Chuckling, One holds his hands out, but now to scoop her up. "Come on. Let's see what else we can get stuck to the ceiling."

Fern giggles, wrapping her arms around One's neck. "I guess it is all about knowing your opponent. I don't think that's gonna work for me quite so well every time, though." She tugs her shirt straight again, or attempts to, anyway.

"You know, it might keep working for longer than you think," One admits ruefully. Grinning, he gives Fern a squeeze and a twirl before he sets her back down. "I'm proud of you. You thought of a strategy I wasn't prepared for. Also, wow. These workouts are... ahem... treating you well, to say the least"

There's a light swat at One's arm, although Fern doesn't exactly look displeased. "All the workouts," she says pointedly. "But I'm still not gonna put on some costume." She steps back to him quickly, to pull him down as she pops up to give him a quick peck. "Well, not unless it's for an acting job," she amends.

"I don't know. I've thought about getting a costume," One muses, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "These superhero chappies have excellent tailors. My armor weighs at least twenty pounds and it only covers my uppers. I want a kevlar onesie, too." By the end, even he can't keep a straight face any longer. "Okay, okay. Granted, that'd have to be a pretty incredible onesie for me to leave the house wearing it. I'm a doctor, after all. I have an image to maintain."

Fern takes a step backward, again looking at One with an assessing eye. Then she squints. "Hm, I don't know.... I think you'd look as fetching in a costume as I look in my work uniform." She grins, eyes widening back to normal. "Or maybe I will get one of those costumes, and we can play superhero together," she adds with a waggle of her eyebrows.

"Sounds good to me. But if we're going to play superhero, can we get you a little maid's outfit for when you're cleaning the place up afterward?" One grins back, even snapping his teeth playfully at Fern. He crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs. "Just sayin'. Could be fun."

The suggestion is considered, Fern's face thoughtful, lips pursed. Finally she nods, "Alright, bring one home." She grins, then giggles at the snap. "But since I don't have one, guess we'll just have to make do..." Fern turns and starts to move away toward the steps leading up to the living area. As she moves she peels her shirt off, tossing it aside casually without missing a step. "What's taking you so long?" she tosses back over her shoulder as her foot hits the first step, she turns briefly, then trots upstairs, not doubting that he'll be close behind.