[ He carefully tests his joints, tilting his head one way then the other to stretch his neck. ]
Think I've got one more in me.
[ Truthful, for once, though he probably would've said the same thing if he was at the end of his rope. Sometimes he can push himself too hard, force himself past his limits due to that need to prove himself, to show he's not the useless lump the Ravagers accused him of being. It's a shitty habit, he knows, and he's trying to get better about it. ]
Unless you're getting bored of tossing me around like a sack of potatoes.
[ pushing himself too hard — it's a habit of his that gamora has noticed. of course, she's hardly one to cast stones when she does the exact same thing. she, at least, has the benefit of taking far longer to tire than quill.
in response, she just rolls her shoulder, inclining her head back towards the mat. ]
It does get predictably easy, after a while.
But I can manage at least one more.
[ she steps away from him, putting some momentary distance between them. ]
You can just say you wanna get this over quick, you know.
[ But there's amusement in his voice, rather than irritation, as he gets back into position on the mats. Turning himself slightly. Raising both arms. He offers a bright little smirk, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. ]
But, sure. Why not? Pretty sure my pride's taken enough of a beating today. Not like it can get any worse.
[ this time, her words are back to being a taunt, a challenge. her aim isn't to overwhelm him on their last round, after all, so even though she intends to speed up her movements, she doesn't want to end it on the first or second strike.
she shifts herself back into position, gives him the space of another breath to prepare—
—and then she's back at him again. she's relentless as always, coming at him with moves similar to before; while she doesn't want him to adjust specifically to her, she wants him to get better practice anticipating for the sake of dodging, until the reflexes are quick, immediate muscle memory.
she spars with him in another kind of dance, this time to a different beat, a different rhythm, but still with the underlying, tonal style that's very much the way gamora just moves.
[ That “Oh, fuck,” expression returns to his face as she charges at him (because there are brief occasions where he forgets how utterly scary she is), but he manages to dodge and block the majority of her attacks. Her increased speed means Gamora still gets in a few hits, a few grazes or glancing blows when Peter isn’t quite fast enough, but he manages to recover before she can capitalize too terribly on his mistakes.
It’s another dance, though Peter doesn’t consciously realize it, distracted as he is by not having his nose broken. He finds the rhythm anyway, moving in sync with her, the two of them weaving in and out, together and apart, spinning and ducking twirling. If he had the time for it, he’d appreciate the easy grace of Gamora’s fighting style, the elegance of it. Peter never had Gamora’s formal training – mostly his lessons consisted of “hit them until you or they stop moving” – but he had speed, resourcefulness, and quick reflexes on his side.
Not that it matters while he’s going toe-to-toe with the galaxy’s deadliest assassin, without his bag of tricks or any of his weapons.
He tumbles onto the floor a little harder this time, the rubber mats cushioning the blow to his head when he falls. Still, for a few seconds he just sees stars. ]
[ gamora doesn't follow him to the ground this time, but her foot presses securely on his sternum as soon as he hits the floor.
she stands over him, holding that finishing strike, before finally relaxing out of her posture. she leans down to look at him, appraising (like she's checking for herself to make sure the blow to his head didn't do too much damage), and then straightens back up, taking her boot away. ]
We should start at that level next time.
[ because even if he'd been tagged a couple of times, he'd still kept up well enough — and pushing him harder will make him improve. it'll be nowhere near the level of demanding (and frankly, dangerous) training gamora underwent to reach her own skill level, but she also feels comfortable pushing quill to the edge of where he can continue to avoid the bulk of her attacks. ]
[ Grumbled without enthusiasm. Even as Gamora backs away, Peter is content to simply lie there, staring up at the overhead, feeling the aches and pains earned from their rounds of sparring. He seriously doesn’t understand how folks do this on a regular basis, when just one session of this is bound to leave his bruises with bruises. And his bruises’ bruises with more bruises.
He props himself up on an elbow again, feeling along the back of his head with his free hand. There’s a bump there, sure enough, and he winces as the tips of his fingers brush against it. He’ll need to get ice on that sooner rather than later. ]
If we’re seriously doing this again, we’re getting real practice mats.
[ she looks down at him, absently crossing her arms over her chest with just a hint of a smile on her lips. ]
You do intend to keep up with this, correct?
[ she'll honestly be disappointed if he decides to give up on this kind of training, just because it's hard. she knows quill likes his shortcuts, but— there's not really one for this. just grueling, dedicated work.
she thinks he can do it, but that doesn't mean it'll come quickly. ]
[ He cuts her a low-level glare from where he lies on the floor. ]
I’m starting to get the distinct impression that you only want an excuse to kick my ass.
[ And he should probably be more bothered with that revelation, but instead, it comes out blandly, like he’s mentioning the weather.
Peter knows that Gamora’s trying to help, in her way, even if it means she gets to beat the tar out of him. Probably a win-win for her, in that case. Slap around the captain under the guise of training him. Personally, Peter can think of a whole lot of other, better options for stress relief, but decides not to give them voice.
Still, he kind of appreciates what she’s going for, even if a large part of him balks at how much time this will surely take. Diligence isn’t exactly a characteristic he’s known for, after all. But it helps that it’s Gamora offering to help, Gamora that’s pushing him, because part of him thinks she wouldn’t bother, if she thought it was a lost cause. He has no idea what it is that makes her believe he might be worth the trouble, but it’s a fact that he latches onto, all the same.
He knows his answer, but he still flops back onto the mats, exhaling an aggravated sigh. ]
How ‘bout you let me wait till tomorrow to decide? Assuming I’m not too sore to even breathe.
[ gamora doesn't waste her time — and she also doesn't lend herself to pipe dreams or false hope. she's realistic, and the fact that she thinks that peter can improve, that he has the ability and propensity to be an even stronger fighter means that she genuinely believes it. she has faith in his capabilities, and while it is a bit satisfying that she'll get to throw quill down in the process, the reason she's insisted is because she thinks he has the potential.
it means that, to her, quill is worth her time.
anything less, and she wouldn't bother. ]
Take as much time as you like. As satisfying as it might be, it's not exactly conducive to your training if I actually break you.
[ a light, throwaway comment not meant to be taken seriously, of course. if she was going to break him, she'd surely had plenty of opportunities before now. ]
[ Though he hardly sounds convinced of that little fact, the words coming out on a monotone. Sort of like paying lipservice to some stupid stereotype. (The Ravagers really liked mentioning how terribly fragile he must be, considering his origins.) ]
And please, man. I’m such a nice dude. When have I ever done anything to deserve bodily harm?
[ if gamora was prone to incredulity, this would be the perfect opportunity for it. instead, she just has that unimpressed, "that is clearly bullshit" look so often directed at quill. ]
Would you prefer the list to be alphabetized or by date of offense?
[ because she, and probably a good portion of the galaxy, could absolutely offer up a thousand and one reasons why peter quill might deserve a few broken bones.
[ He peers up at her, putting on his best kicked puppy expression. ]
C’mon. It can’t seriously be that bad.
[ Though he knows damn well it is, in fact, that bad. Which is why before she can answer, he shoves himself up into a sitting position, rubbing at the back of his neck. ]
Ugh. [ He winces a little when he hits a particularly sore spot. ] Practice pads for sure, next time. I’m gonna be feelin’ this for weeks.
I should hope not. It'll be difficult to continue if it takes you that long to recover.
[ but now with him sitting up, she offers a hand to pull him to his feet. ]
Are you going to need ice for your head?
[ the question itself belies the otherwise lack of concern in her tone. he'd taken that last fall harder than she expected, and while it doesn't seem to have left him properly injured, she does care enough to see that he minds anything minor he's taken away from the training. ]
[ He huffs out a breath, his hand feeling along the lump. He winces when he makes contact again. ]
... Yeah. Probably.
[ That fall had been pretty graceless, admittedly, but still, his pride (and his thick skull) took the brunt of the fall. He takes her hand, pulls himself up again, only this time, he stumbles a little as the room dips. ]
Shit.
[ He falls against her, one hand braced on her shoulder, the other holding his head, and his eyes screw shut for a few seconds. When the spinning sensation dies down, he lets out a slow breath. ]
[ that gamora doesn't see coming. she immediately reaches up to catch quill, helping to steady him with hands placed on his sternum and shoulder. she watches his face with what borders on blatant concern, and unlike when they'd first started to work together, she makes no move to pull away from him, letting him take the time he needs to recover. ]
Is that all it is?
[ oh, that's absolutely worry in her voice, even if the question comes out on a clipped demand for information.
she didn't think the fall had been that extensive, but, as he'd said, terrans are brittle. ]
[ "Pretty sure." That's comforting. A slow inhale, a slow exhale, as he tries to get his bearings again. There's still that slight tug at the back of his head, something that threatens to imbalance him, but he can ignore it, for now.
Balance mostly regained, he cracks an eye open, and—
Oh, that smile. Evidently someone wasn't too distracted to not hear the concern in her voice. ]
gamora's concern is instantly replaced by exasperation, and she just sighs at him, shaking her head. he's lucky she doesn't want him worsening whatever he's done to himself, or she might just shove him to watch him stumble onto his ass for the hell of it. ]
I can throw you to the floor and simply return to my bunk, Quill.
[ she lets her hands fall away from him properly, now that he doesn't seem to be on the verge of toppling over. ]
You may also benefit from taking it easy for the rest of the day.
[ she gives him an expectant little look, mildly enjoying the opportunity to tell him to rest after all of his insistence following the bullet wound. ]
[ Well, unlike Gamora, Peter simple offers a tight-lipped smile, something obliging and bright. ]
Funny. I was just thinkin' the same thing.
[ He says it as much to be an ass, considering the parallels aren't lost on him, as much out of an earnest desire to just. Not move for the rest of the day. Because stiffness is starting to settle in, along with that sharp sting across his shoulders and down his back. Bruises on his jaw, along his ribs, and Peter feels like he might actually sympathize with the hanging meat Sly Stallone tenderized in Rocky.
Not quite as serious as a bullet to the gut, sure, but enough to make him useless for the next couple of days, all the same.
(Maybe there is some merit to the "fragile Terran" thing, after all.) ]
Should probably put things back the way we found 'em, though.
[ His lips part to argue, thanks to that old stubborn part of him that insists on showing he can pull his weight, but—
One: he's pretty sure Gamora would be all too happy to give him a taste of his own medicine, and if there was one thing he hated, it was having his own words flung back in his face. And two: the aches of his body, the exhaustion in his bones, quickly shout down that lone, dissenting voice, and he slowly nods. ]
... Thanks.
[ And his shoulders drop slightly in relief. Peter could probably manage to help shove around the crates they had cleared away, he certainly didn't want to.
So he turns, making a beeline for the little space they graciously called the medbay before Gamora can change her mind. Or before she can get around him and trip him onto his ass again. Either way. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Think I've got one more in me.
[ Truthful, for once, though he probably would've said the same thing if he was at the end of his rope. Sometimes he can push himself too hard, force himself past his limits due to that need to prove himself, to show he's not the useless lump the Ravagers accused him of being. It's a shitty habit, he knows, and he's trying to get better about it. ]
Unless you're getting bored of tossing me around like a sack of potatoes.
no subject
in response, she just rolls her shoulder, inclining her head back towards the mat. ]
It does get predictably easy, after a while.
But I can manage at least one more.
[ she steps away from him, putting some momentary distance between them. ]
Would you like to try things faster than before?
[ but not too much, so as not to overwhelm him. ]
no subject
[ But there's amusement in his voice, rather than irritation, as he gets back into position on the mats. Turning himself slightly. Raising both arms. He offers a bright little smirk, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. ]
But, sure. Why not? Pretty sure my pride's taken enough of a beating today. Not like it can get any worse.
no subject
[ this time, her words are back to being a taunt, a challenge. her aim isn't to overwhelm him on their last round, after all, so even though she intends to speed up her movements, she doesn't want to end it on the first or second strike.
she shifts herself back into position, gives him the space of another breath to prepare—
—and then she's back at him again. she's relentless as always, coming at him with moves similar to before; while she doesn't want him to adjust specifically to her, she wants him to get better practice anticipating for the sake of dodging, until the reflexes are quick, immediate muscle memory.
she spars with him in another kind of dance, this time to a different beat, a different rhythm, but still with the underlying, tonal style that's very much the way gamora just moves.
elegant, but deadly. ]
no subject
It’s another dance, though Peter doesn’t consciously realize it, distracted as he is by not having his nose broken. He finds the rhythm anyway, moving in sync with her, the two of them weaving in and out, together and apart, spinning and ducking twirling. If he had the time for it, he’d appreciate the easy grace of Gamora’s fighting style, the elegance of it. Peter never had Gamora’s formal training – mostly his lessons consisted of “hit them until you or they stop moving” – but he had speed, resourcefulness, and quick reflexes on his side.
Not that it matters while he’s going toe-to-toe with the galaxy’s deadliest assassin, without his bag of tricks or any of his weapons.
He tumbles onto the floor a little harder this time, the rubber mats cushioning the blow to his head when he falls. Still, for a few seconds he just sees stars. ]
no subject
she stands over him, holding that finishing strike, before finally relaxing out of her posture. she leans down to look at him, appraising (like she's checking for herself to make sure the blow to his head didn't do too much damage), and then straightens back up, taking her boot away. ]
We should start at that level next time.
[ because even if he'd been tagged a couple of times, he'd still kept up well enough — and pushing him harder will make him improve. it'll be nowhere near the level of demanding (and frankly, dangerous) training gamora underwent to reach her own skill level, but she also feels comfortable pushing quill to the edge of where he can continue to avoid the bulk of her attacks. ]
When you're less bruised.
no subject
[ Grumbled without enthusiasm. Even as Gamora backs away, Peter is content to simply lie there, staring up at the overhead, feeling the aches and pains earned from their rounds of sparring. He seriously doesn’t understand how folks do this on a regular basis, when just one session of this is bound to leave his bruises with bruises. And his bruises’ bruises with more bruises.
He props himself up on an elbow again, feeling along the back of his head with his free hand. There’s a bump there, sure enough, and he winces as the tips of his fingers brush against it. He’ll need to get ice on that sooner rather than later. ]
If we’re seriously doing this again, we’re getting real practice mats.
no subject
[ she looks down at him, absently crossing her arms over her chest with just a hint of a smile on her lips. ]
You do intend to keep up with this, correct?
[ she'll honestly be disappointed if he decides to give up on this kind of training, just because it's hard. she knows quill likes his shortcuts, but— there's not really one for this. just grueling, dedicated work.
she thinks he can do it, but that doesn't mean it'll come quickly. ]
no subject
I’m starting to get the distinct impression that you only want an excuse to kick my ass.
[ And he should probably be more bothered with that revelation, but instead, it comes out blandly, like he’s mentioning the weather.
Peter knows that Gamora’s trying to help, in her way, even if it means she gets to beat the tar out of him. Probably a win-win for her, in that case. Slap around the captain under the guise of training him. Personally, Peter can think of a whole lot of other, better options for stress relief, but decides not to give them voice.
Still, he kind of appreciates what she’s going for, even if a large part of him balks at how much time this will surely take. Diligence isn’t exactly a characteristic he’s known for, after all. But it helps that it’s Gamora offering to help, Gamora that’s pushing him, because part of him thinks she wouldn’t bother, if she thought it was a lost cause. He has no idea what it is that makes her believe he might be worth the trouble, but it’s a fact that he latches onto, all the same.
He knows his answer, but he still flops back onto the mats, exhaling an aggravated sigh. ]
How ‘bout you let me wait till tomorrow to decide? Assuming I’m not too sore to even breathe.
no subject
it means that, to her, quill is worth her time.
anything less, and she wouldn't bother. ]
Take as much time as you like. As satisfying as it might be, it's not exactly conducive to your training if I actually break you.
[ a light, throwaway comment not meant to be taken seriously, of course. if she was going to break him, she'd surely had plenty of opportunities before now. ]
no subject
[ Still sprawled out. Moving, apparently, seems too daunting a prospect. He lifts up a hand, as if writing the contract in the air, as he recites, ]
“I, Gamora, do hereby swear to not intentionally shatter the bones of one Peter Jason Quill, known more commonly as Star-Lord.”
[ then his arm flops back down to lie across his middle. ]
You’ll pay for the medical bills if you do, though, right?
no subject
[ she just cocks an eyebrow. ]
If any of your bones are going to be shattered, Quill, it's because you deserved it.
[ and since she hasn't done it yet, she probably won't. she may threaten him, but gamora has no intention to kill or seriously maim quill.
not, like she said, unless he really deserves it. but, on a whim, probably not. ]
In which case, you will be paying your own medical expenses.
no subject
Please, Gamora. I’m Terran. I’m brittle.
[ Though he hardly sounds convinced of that little fact, the words coming out on a monotone. Sort of like paying lipservice to some stupid stereotype. (The Ravagers really liked mentioning how terribly fragile he must be, considering his origins.) ]
And please, man. I’m such a nice dude. When have I ever done anything to deserve bodily harm?
no subject
Would you prefer the list to be alphabetized or by date of offense?
[ because she, and probably a good portion of the galaxy, could absolutely offer up a thousand and one reasons why peter quill might deserve a few broken bones.
or at least a black eye. ]
no subject
C’mon. It can’t seriously be that bad.
[ Though he knows damn well it is, in fact, that bad. Which is why before she can answer, he shoves himself up into a sitting position, rubbing at the back of his neck. ]
Ugh. [ He winces a little when he hits a particularly sore spot. ] Practice pads for sure, next time. I’m gonna be feelin’ this for weeks.
no subject
[ but now with him sitting up, she offers a hand to pull him to his feet. ]
Are you going to need ice for your head?
[ the question itself belies the otherwise lack of concern in her tone. he'd taken that last fall harder than she expected, and while it doesn't seem to have left him properly injured, she does care enough to see that he minds anything minor he's taken away from the training. ]
no subject
... Yeah. Probably.
[ That fall had been pretty graceless, admittedly, but still, his pride (and his thick skull) took the brunt of the fall. He takes her hand, pulls himself up again, only this time, he stumbles a little as the room dips. ]
Shit.
[ He falls against her, one hand braced on her shoulder, the other holding his head, and his eyes screw shut for a few seconds. When the spinning sensation dies down, he lets out a slow breath. ]
Head rush. [ By way of explanation. ]
no subject
Is that all it is?
[ oh, that's absolutely worry in her voice, even if the question comes out on a clipped demand for information.
she didn't think the fall had been that extensive, but, as he'd said, terrans are brittle. ]
no subject
[ "Pretty sure." That's comforting. A slow inhale, a slow exhale, as he tries to get his bearings again. There's still that slight tug at the back of his head, something that threatens to imbalance him, but he can ignore it, for now.
Balance mostly regained, he cracks an eye open, and—
Oh, that smile. Evidently someone wasn't too distracted to not hear the concern in her voice. ]
Why? You worried?
no subject
gamora's concern is instantly replaced by exasperation, and she just sighs at him, shaking her head. he's lucky she doesn't want him worsening whatever he's done to himself, or she might just shove him to watch him stumble onto his ass for the hell of it. ]
I can throw you to the floor and simply return to my bunk, Quill.
If your head is fine, I may do that anyway.
no subject
No more throwing today, please and thank you.
[ He presses a hand to his temple feeling that headache starting to come on, and he sighs quietly. ]
Right. Ice. Lots of ice. Probably some painkillers, too.
no subject
[ she lets her hands fall away from him properly, now that he doesn't seem to be on the verge of toppling over. ]
You may also benefit from taking it easy for the rest of the day.
[ she gives him an expectant little look, mildly enjoying the opportunity to tell him to rest after all of his insistence following the bullet wound. ]
no subject
Funny. I was just thinkin' the same thing.
[ He says it as much to be an ass, considering the parallels aren't lost on him, as much out of an earnest desire to just. Not move for the rest of the day. Because stiffness is starting to settle in, along with that sharp sting across his shoulders and down his back. Bruises on his jaw, along his ribs, and Peter feels like he might actually sympathize with the hanging meat Sly Stallone tenderized in Rocky.
Not quite as serious as a bullet to the gut, sure, but enough to make him useless for the next couple of days, all the same.
(Maybe there is some merit to the "fragile Terran" thing, after all.) ]
Should probably put things back the way we found 'em, though.
no subject
I will take care of it.
[ she inclines her head out of the cargo hold pointedly. ]
Go get your ice.
[ it's a small gesture, but intentional. with how admirably he trained for the day, she thinks he deserves a moment to sit. ]
no subject
One: he's pretty sure Gamora would be all too happy to give him a taste of his own medicine, and if there was one thing he hated, it was having his own words flung back in his face. And two: the aches of his body, the exhaustion in his bones, quickly shout down that lone, dissenting voice, and he slowly nods. ]
... Thanks.
[ And his shoulders drop slightly in relief. Peter could probably manage to help shove around the crates they had cleared away, he certainly didn't want to.
So he turns, making a beeline for the little space they graciously called the medbay before Gamora can change her mind. Or before she can get around him and trip him onto his ass again. Either way. ]