[ The praise is muted, but that’s to be expected. Still, he feels a little pleased by it, even if he knows it’s not much of a step forward. He still has a great deal of work to do, still has to grapple with his own instinct telling him to retreat.
This next round, he tries, tries analyzing her movements as much as tries to avoid and counter them. Gamora is better at this, always will be, and even if she’s going easy on him, a few of her blows still land. He manages to recover enough to avoid ending the battle, then and there, and he presses forward a little more, takes on the role of aggressor now and again. It’s a tiny improvement, and while it’s not nearly enough to help him survive the caliber of fighters the Guardians typically face, these days, it might be serviceable enough in a bar brawl.
So not amazing. Not fantastic. But, well, if Peter ever finds himself in a rowdy club, he’ll be able to hold his own.
It ends, inevitably, with Gamora getting the upperhand, with Peter falling for a feint and toppling to the floor. ]
[ Gamora's biggest concern is improvement. He doesn't have to be where he was before, doesn't need to be fantastic, but he needs to hold his own and start learning how to push past that impulse to fall back, and today, at least, he was trying.
She can give him that.
But as with the other rounds, she ends up knocking him to the floor yet again, pinning him to the mat with her boot. ]
Did you see the difference it made when you held your ground?
[ She leans over him, her expression expectant as she looks down on him. ]
[ For a brief moment, Gamora finds herself reminded of another time with Peter, when they'd first started to train. She'd knocked him down over and over and over, always leaving him on his back, blinking up at her, winded and a little frustrated.
"Just— figured you'd call it before, you know."
"Why would I?"
But that Peter had been ready with a terrible joke and a smirk. That's not really the case, anymore.
She shakes the thought away, instead adding, ]
Did you think you wouldn't?
When you give me openings, I will take advantage of them, and you're easily incapacitated if I put you on your back.
[ Peter presses his lips together, eyes slightly narrowed. The words “I think you just like throwing me around” try to bubble up, but he holds them caged behind his teeth.
Instead, he just makes a quiet, resigned noise at the back of his throat, as if to wordlessly say, I see your point and also, Doesn’t mean I have to like it. He moves to sit up – though with her boot against his chest her weight still holding him down, that makes things a little difficult. ]
[ He wouldn't exactly be wrong about how much she may or may not like tossing him around, but she'd never acknowledge it, even if he did manage the courage to say something about it. ]
I could.
[ And, apparently, she will, because she finally takes her boot off him, and instead, offers him a hand up. ]
[ For a second, he thinks she means to keep him pinned down on the floor like this, and he’s a little too tired to do much about it, if she’s honest. When she finally relents, offering a hand, he takes it and hauls himself to his feet, wincing at the feel of bruises, at the dull throb at his side, making itself known again. ]
I feel like you enjoyed that more than I did. [ A mild sort of complaint, all things considered. ]
[ She offers a small nod, and it takes a good deal of restraint not to just demand he let her take a look, to not just openly try to do... something to help. ]
Good. You should be mindful of it when we train again tomorrow.
[ His shoulders sag a little at those words, face falling as fatigue settles into his muscles. ]
... Right.
[ Fun.
But he had asked for her help in training him, and if this was what entailed, then it would be ungrateful of him to complain. And she knows best, he figures, on how to get him up to the appropriate level, and if meeting again tomorrow is what she thinks he needs, then—
Well. It’s what he asked for.
(Sadist, a distant part of him thinks, accusatory and good-naturedly exasperated.)
His free hand kneads at the muscle, where his shoulder meets his neck. ]
[ Consistency is the key to successful training, after all. ]
And try to continue stretching to keep the muscles from tensing. It will make tomorrow more difficult if you have to spend additional time working through the pain — or you'll end up with more bruises when it slows you down.
[ She hasn't had to worry about basic bruises or minor strain impeding her training in... well, a very long time, but she knows from experience with Peter that he deals with body aches in a different manner and with unmodified speed. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Not necessarily good, but: ]
Better.
[ She lets his fist make contact, retreating appropriately in response. ]
Press the advantage.
[ And she's willing to give him the space of a few breaths to recover, to make up for lost ground before she pushes forward for another strike. ]
no subject
This next round, he tries, tries analyzing her movements as much as tries to avoid and counter them. Gamora is better at this, always will be, and even if she’s going easy on him, a few of her blows still land. He manages to recover enough to avoid ending the battle, then and there, and he presses forward a little more, takes on the role of aggressor now and again. It’s a tiny improvement, and while it’s not nearly enough to help him survive the caliber of fighters the Guardians typically face, these days, it might be serviceable enough in a bar brawl.
So not amazing. Not fantastic. But, well, if Peter ever finds himself in a rowdy club, he’ll be able to hold his own.
It ends, inevitably, with Gamora getting the upperhand, with Peter falling for a feint and toppling to the floor. ]
no subject
She can give him that.
But as with the other rounds, she ends up knocking him to the floor yet again, pinning him to the mat with her boot. ]
Did you see the difference it made when you held your ground?
[ She leans over him, her expression expectant as she looks down on him. ]
no subject
He peers up at her at her question, a look of faint exasperation crossing his face. ]
Not... really.
[ Honest, at least. ]
Still ended up down here, didn’t I?
no subject
"Just— figured you'd call it before, you know."
"Why would I?"
But that Peter had been ready with a terrible joke and a smirk. That's not really the case, anymore.
She shakes the thought away, instead adding, ]
Did you think you wouldn't?
When you give me openings, I will take advantage of them, and you're easily incapacitated if I put you on your back.
no subject
Instead, he just makes a quiet, resigned noise at the back of his throat, as if to wordlessly say, I see your point and also, Doesn’t mean I have to like it. He moves to sit up – though with her boot against his chest her weight still holding him down, that makes things a little difficult. ]
... Are you gonna let me up at all?
no subject
I could.
[ And, apparently, she will, because she finally takes her boot off him, and instead, offers him a hand up. ]
no subject
I feel like you enjoyed that more than I did. [ A mild sort of complaint, all things considered. ]
no subject
[ It's significantly more fun to be the one doing the knocking-down than to be knocked down, after all.
She gives him a once-over, deliberating for a moment. ]
How is your side?
no subject
It’ll be fine.
[ Not that he’s an expert on these things. Not anymore, anyway. ]
Just bruised, I think.
no subject
Good. You should be mindful of it when we train again tomorrow.
[ Breaks? What are breaks? ]
no subject
... Right.
[ Fun.
But he had asked for her help in training him, and if this was what entailed, then it would be ungrateful of him to complain. And she knows best, he figures, on how to get him up to the appropriate level, and if meeting again tomorrow is what she thinks he needs, then—
Well. It’s what he asked for.
(Sadist, a distant part of him thinks, accusatory and good-naturedly exasperated.)
His free hand kneads at the muscle, where his shoulder meets his neck. ]
Same time?
no subject
[ Consistency is the key to successful training, after all. ]
And try to continue stretching to keep the muscles from tensing. It will make tomorrow more difficult if you have to spend additional time working through the pain — or you'll end up with more bruises when it slows you down.
[ She hasn't had to worry about basic bruises or minor strain impeding her training in... well, a very long time, but she knows from experience with Peter that he deals with body aches in a different manner and with unmodified speed. ]
no subject
(Swallows down the inclination to straighten and say sarcastically, Sir, yes, sir.) ]
I'll do my best.