Doesn't mean you need to swing at me like you're in there. 'less you want me to do the same for you.
( a step back, and jason rubs at his throat with a hand. returns the stupid smirk with one of his own, and pauses to press his tongue up against his upper teeth. shifts back into a fighting stance, adjusts hips so his weight's centered back on his leg furthest from cain. )
[Falling into seriousness, he mirrors the pose, weight centered and feet planted solid on the ground. Hands come up again, fingers forming quick fists and flexing back out, loosening tendons.
It takes a reminder: he's not fighting for his life here.
So he tries again. This time, fast movement forward, open palm out to strike - he aims for the side of Malone's head through his guard.]
( but he still goes for the face shots, thanks a lot cain. jason has both arms up ready to guard, takes a step to the side just enough to get his forearm in place to block the hit. cain's scrappy but not weak, his arm'll probably bruise from the impact later, but.
jason grins regardless, shifts the hand that isn't holding back cain's forward for an uppercut towards cain's jawline. it's fast, powerful but not even close to all the strength jason can put behind a punch. )
When that hand cuts across the lower edge of his vision, Cain shifts to brace against it and take the hit with his own forearm, but even that isn't enough. The power slams up his arm, elbow to wrist, and he's sent stumbling backward - at least he catches his weight and doesn't go down.]
Fuck! [A sharply vented expletive accompanies his retreat. Cain shakes out his arm, still feeling it tingle in reverberating pain. He's used to blocking, not dodging, but that hadn't worked well here.] Fuck, that hurt.
cain takes the hit and backs up, curses and shakes out his arm; jason reacts merely by shifting his weight back onto heels and loosening his stance up. lowers his arms a bit. cain has decent reflexes, a snarky mouth, and jason has been around him long enough to recognize all the little things in cain. he'll ask him more bullshit later, figure out what the hell's going on with this gangly loser, why he's in the military, what the hell he was fighting shit with, but for now: )
Two days. Train with me in here for two days, rest half of one, and I'll take you down to the fight rings.
[Not a long stretch of time, but Cain isn't daunted. It'll serve enough to accustom him with the idea of going into the ring, to exercise his body, to sharpen his reflexes. He's panting from exertion. After the blank gap in his memory for however long he was out, it feels good to have his head clear. ]
Two days, got it. [He swipes a wrapped hand across his brow of sweat. Strange not to have hair matted to skin, but pleasant in this heat.] Can I use this place whenever I want, after?
( two days is long enough to figure out cain's strengths and work with them. it's long enough to show him how to start building up muscle better, how to work his body in ways that'll benefit him; definitely not long enough to teach someone to street fight, but cain's already got that bit down. jason isn't too concerned over it; the ring fighters are enhanced, full of metal bits and strong. powerful. cain'll figure it out. )
's yours. ( with a wide-swept gesture with both hands. ) Just don't stay in it for long, it's got eyes on it from unpleasant sources.
[He may not be a navigator or a pilot or an engineer, but he can think on his feet in a fight. Sounds like that's all he'll need to puzzle out the mechanics of the ring. Nothing to do but jump in, hot and ready.]
Yeah, heard that. What about powers? [Cain's gaze spans across the room.] Some weird shit happened back at the safehouse. Pretty sure it was me - how am I supposed to practice that?
[He's temperamental, and arrival after the events of the party had hiked Cain's emotions to a great height, triggering his ability earlier than many. He's not ashamed of it.]
( with a hand on his hip, lips pursing. he's got people for that though, people he can ask for some assistance. kara's. . okay with him. hasn't had an issue, outright told him if he killed those involved she wouldn't give a shit (not that he's particularly interested) about it. )
Just some asshole bothering me. [More to it, but like hell he's dumping the gritty details and exposing the depth of that whole issue.] The plate was on the counter, then it wasn't. Almost like it disappeared.
Maybe later, yeah, just... send her my info. [Appreciative as he is, the power aspect of this brave new world is more challenging to wrap his head around.] You got a lot of connections.
( he does. too many. too many people willing to help him on a whim, too many individuals willing to do near anything for him. it's unsafe, jason hates it. )
[Cain's worse at that: connecting, intentionally or otherwise. Feels like he's harbored isolation too long to change the habits now, but at least Malone's network sounds useful.
Straightening, he holds up his fists, minding the new bruise on his forearm from that last punch.]
C'mon, round two. Let's go.
[We can fade to black into training-montage-scenes, if you want...]
( he favors the hurt arm, and jason notices. grins widely in response, but--repositions himself. takes more of a boxer's stance, considering they're training for the fucking rings. he's mindful of cain's own stance, too; shifts to mirror it when he can. )
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( a step back, and jason rubs at his throat with a hand. returns the stupid smirk with one of his own, and pauses to press his tongue up against his upper teeth. shifts back into a fighting stance, adjusts hips so his weight's centered back on his leg furthest from cain. )
Try again.
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It takes a reminder: he's not fighting for his life here.
So he tries again. This time, fast movement forward, open palm out to strike - he aims for the side of Malone's head through his guard.]
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jason grins regardless, shifts the hand that isn't holding back cain's forward for an uppercut towards cain's jawline. it's fast, powerful but not even close to all the strength jason can put behind a punch. )
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When that hand cuts across the lower edge of his vision, Cain shifts to brace against it and take the hit with his own forearm, but even that isn't enough. The power slams up his arm, elbow to wrist, and he's sent stumbling backward - at least he catches his weight and doesn't go down.]
Fuck! [A sharply vented expletive accompanies his retreat. Cain shakes out his arm, still feeling it tingle in reverberating pain. He's used to blocking, not dodging, but that hadn't worked well here.] Fuck, that hurt.
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cain takes the hit and backs up, curses and shakes out his arm; jason reacts merely by shifting his weight back onto heels and loosening his stance up. lowers his arms a bit. cain has decent reflexes, a snarky mouth, and jason has been around him long enough to recognize all the little things in cain. he'll ask him more bullshit later, figure out what the hell's going on with this gangly loser, why he's in the military, what the hell he was fighting shit with, but for now: )
Two days. Train with me in here for two days, rest half of one, and I'll take you down to the fight rings.
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Two days, got it. [He swipes a wrapped hand across his brow of sweat. Strange not to have hair matted to skin, but pleasant in this heat.] Can I use this place whenever I want, after?
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's yours. ( with a wide-swept gesture with both hands. ) Just don't stay in it for long, it's got eyes on it from unpleasant sources.
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Yeah, heard that. What about powers? [Cain's gaze spans across the room.] Some weird shit happened back at the safehouse. Pretty sure it was me - how am I supposed to practice that?
[He's temperamental, and arrival after the events of the party had hiked Cain's emotions to a great height, triggering his ability earlier than many. He's not ashamed of it.]
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( with a hand on his hip, lips pursing. he's got people for that though, people he can ask for some assistance. kara's. . okay with him. hasn't had an issue, outright told him if he killed those involved she wouldn't give a shit (not that he's particularly interested) about it. )
What happened?
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[Superpower: shattering all your mother's fine china.]
Made it move, I guess?
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( it'd be easier to figure out what it was if he could make the incident happen again, but, )
What stressed you out enough to cause it?
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Just some asshole bothering me. [More to it, but like hell he's dumping the gritty details and exposing the depth of that whole issue.] The plate was on the counter, then it wasn't. Almost like it disappeared.
Never been able to do anything like that before.
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Give me a bit, I'll call my girl. She's got a bit more experience--helping others adjust to crap like that.
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Maybe later, yeah, just... send her my info. [Appreciative as he is, the power aspect of this brave new world is more challenging to wrap his head around.] You got a lot of connections.
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I get around. Helps with figuring this shit out.
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Straightening, he holds up his fists, minding the new bruise on his forearm from that last punch.]
C'mon, round two. Let's go.
[We can fade to black into training-montage-scenes, if you want...]
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Round two.
( let's get down to business. )