goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

That- now. That's a little familiar. Doesn't come with the same kick to the gut but he gets ONE foot under him instead of the usual two (he's tired he's aching he's blind he's broken) and tries to haul Mal close. If he can't hit he sure can grapple. Maybe. Unless he lost that too.

Half crouched is NOT the best way to do that but- yeah. Not really caring about that right now. "I dunno, you got room for me in there?"

That at least comes unexpectedly. So Murray isn't just a useless stooge. There's skill in there; it just needs to be retrained. Malcolm can change tactics to grappling, and given their positions, he still has an advantage even without brute strength. He tries another twist. Get on the bloody floor and get pinned, ex-pilot.

Leverage is in Malcolm's favor. Brute force in York's. The twist has them dropping but Taylor tries to roll through it, roll past it and get over Mr. Reed for at least half a count. It won't be long enough to pin but long enough for him to know he can still- he's still capable. He can still do this.

Course it puts them close together and, damn, blue eyes. "You are deceptively sneaky, Mr. Reed."

A puff of exertion. Yes, Murray can still do this. Just needs...refining. Tweaking. He aims a jab to York's left side, just under the ribs, to change this back to his favour, regain control, pin him down. "Am I? Funny. Haven't done much sneaky yet."

Clair hadn't worried about refining. About polish. She wanted him raw and raging when they were in the drift, ready for anything. Maybe if he'd been more polished he would've saved her. Maybe he'd still have his eye. But he held Reed down for half a second till the jab comes unseen and they roll again, his back on the mat and his smile wide.

He can still do this.

He's not all broken. "Guess i gotta see more then, huh? Your point."

Ready for anything and polished don't contradict each other. Perhaps his partner had been more along his style. The point conceded, he rises and gets off of York in a fluid motion, offering his hand to help the pilot up. Can't treat him like a student, not really.

"I get the feeling that you and I will be seeing plenty of one another."

"That a promise?" He pulls himself up, a little more of the swagger, of the charm and it's not all broken. He's not all hollow and it's- nice. To be challenged. With him and Caro it got so damn easy but this is different. Different is good. "I'll need the help. Adjusting is- yeah."

He's not sure what to make of this. Is this an act? People, especially those he soundly shows up, don't tend to like him. Not off the bat, at least.

"I cannot bring your sight back, obviously, but you can be taught ways to compensate. And if you do happen to find a new partner," not absolutely unheard of, but then, it's rare for only one to survive on anyway, "you'll have to worry even less."

Being shown up never really bothered him. Being treated like glass? Did. Mal kicked his ass soundly and that's something he's kind of missed. "We can build giant ass robots to fight space monsters from the bottom of the ocean- can't do anything about a fucked up retina or cataract. Where are the priorities, man?"

He steps back into position, shoulders loose, hands up. "Let's try that again with me not fucking up this time."

"I'm sure if you searched for options, you could find a suitable replacement and a doctor willing to perform such a surgery. But I certainly can't do much about it."

He's so easygoing, this one. Malcolm settles into a ready position, a different one this time, more in line. "You won't sound my pride if you pin me. I'd welcome it."

"You'd think we'd get some kinda benefits package but not so much." health insurance? What health insurance. It was a thing but there's no specialist or surgeon he could find and he's still trying to wrap his head around having her missing as much as he is the eye.

But this. This works. "Alright then. Call it when you're good."

Malcolm starts off this time, not going for any obvious left-sided jabs, but steadfastly forward with powerful movements rather than his earlier floaty style. He's not a man of power but of form, but he should not be underestimated all the same. He drills a hand forward to strike, an aim at the solar plexus.

Small and quick, damn. York steps back and brings his hands up- the catch connecting with his wrist but the depth perception he's got limited so he skids and misses at the elbow, clasping at Mal's bicep when his eye finally gets with the program. Not enough force like this to stop the blow or even divert it, Mal's hand impacts with a grunt as he adjusts his grip to the initial attempt in the first place.

Putting his shoulders into it he twists, snapping a knee up at Mal's ribs.

"Use your periph--" The rest turns into a grunt when knee hits ribs, knocks some air out of him. He twists more, further into the direction Murray did, tries to get his back up to his opponent. Risky, but if he can lure him in, there might be a shot.

"Got it." Peripheral vision, okay. He's got some that'll make it useful but the whole of his left is one large blur of nothing. The back thing- it feels a little like judo, a little like akido, and enough like a warning for him to want to not. The rest of him is pretty confident if he gets in low and loops his arm around Mal's ribs that leverage is lost. So. He does that, comes in close and low, arm hooking around his ribs. Or at least trying to.

Shit. Good. It means Murray isn't falling for that trick, and Malcolm doesn't have to show off by flipping the former pilot over his head and pinning him with a roll.

It also means that now Malcolm's attempt at advantage is lost. So he drops using any particular, set style and kicks a leg back, trying to hook behind York's, to pull him off balance and hopefully backwards.

That could've been his kneecap. If Mal wasn't trying to help him be better, it might've been. As it is there' a jerk and a pull and he twists rather than falls. It's not enough to keep him on top so they land on their sides in a tangle, wind knocked out of York for half a second before he tries to roll over and pin Malcolm properly.

Well this is...something. Not what he was hoping for, and Taylor's still got at least one arm around him. If this were a less sporting match, he'd knock his head back and break a nose, but as it is--he presses his body up against his opponent, trying to muscle him off, any kind of leverage, but damn. So, lesson learned: agility with this one.

Nuh uh- that's not working. He squirms enough to get a leg around malcolm's and the leverage across his shoulders to hold him down. Getting into the grapples- that's hard. Once they're down and he's got physics on his side? It's all good. "Wanna keep trying, or is it my point?"

"One one. Not bad for someone who's been out of the game for a bit." Yes, he gives the point. With a tiny bit of humility.

"I work out." He rolls off Malcolm and to his feet, offering a hand down easily to pull him up. "Usually with people that treat me like I'm gonna break so this? A big improvement."

"I don't treat anyone with kid gloves," he says, taking the hand gratefully. "No matter what these wannabe rockstars might say." He does not say that this man has already broken; he shouldn't break again just from sparring. "I think when our training truly begins, I'll teach you more agility-based moves to counterbalance the power you can drive home."

"Lockup could turn on a dime but-" He shrugs. The Jeager was a nice blend of raw power and absolute precision but the driver hadn't ever really been him. Carolina handled that much. "Wasn't my side of the pod that handled that."

There's a huff of affectionate exasperation that he knows only he can hear and they never told you how the ghosts linger. Then again one half doesn't always live. He squeezes Malcolm's hand before stepping back into position arms up. He got a pin. He'll count that as a win for the day.

"Still, I find it better to be rounded out. Just because you'll have someone to be your left hand in the pilot seat doesn't mean you shouldn't learn to compensate in your life."

All right, settle into something more comfortable for him, then. He's loose but geared up, ready to strike, with a little bounce. Come on, Mr. Murray. See if you can't do it twice more.

There's some laughter and whispering after he mentions his Jeager. Yeah, like the scarring and the blind eye wasn't clue enough. Now it wasn't just ex-pilot. Now they knew who he was- and more importantly what happened. How badly he failed. Shoving that down is second nature by now.

he's got a target. A very pretty- no not like that damnit- target. Hands up, shoulders loose and he's darting forward- down and right and up, snapping in with two jabs before ducking to the left- herding rather than an all out assault.

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