goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"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.

"Good," praises Reed, moving, blocking, moving, "good, vary it up, keep me guessing, use your good side to your advantage." He sees the herding but doesn't necessarily stop it, encouraging. He wants to see where this is going without making it too easy. Malcolm's mostly on the defensive this time, throwing out a few testing jabs himself.

Back and to the right, even if they're on the mats and there's nothing to get him to. Good, he's doing good and he can keep pushing. Right and left, bobbing and blocking the hits as they come and it feels right. Everything goes quiet and there's no solid pattern. Not yet. Busy learning the way Malcolm's shoulders go tight when he's swinging a left, how they bunch when he blocks.

The tiny microseconds of warning he gets before he's hit. The next jab comes in on the left and he can't see it, can't block it- tries to hook his arm over Malcolm's to haul him in close. To pull him down.

His one arm is clumsily locked but locked all the same, but his other arm is still free to keep on hitting. Which he does, with zeal. Even bring a knee up, if it'll help York loosen his grip or give him any advantage.

Okay maybe he DOES need to gain weight back the padding that used to be along his ribs that would normally cushion the blow? Kinda gone. So it makes the blows hurt and it's a beat before he tries for a leglock, which tangles with the knee that's up and it's not- graceful. The tipping over.

It means more grappling. He ought to start trying to avoid those; York seems to like them. Or aim for them. It's both of them on the floor with tangled limbs both trying to untangle and tangle further.

He could make this dirty if he wanted to, draw real injuries and then brush it off as a lesson (to the students, the would-be rangers) that the kaiju will not go easy on them either. But that would be petty.

He's playing to his strengths. Which right now is the grappling. Wrestling Kaiju wasn't entirely orthadox but it's easier to get leverage up close after you've cracked their skull with a knee and an elbow. This absolutely would not fly in a real drift test and maybe that's what he's avoiding.

Anything other than the brawling that kept him safe back before all this mess. Which isn't conductive to improving but- issues. man. Issues.

It's not wrasslin' kaiju, but Malcolm is in his own ways tenacious, and he hardly goes down without a fight. So it might be an odd sight seeing two grown men grappling each other on the mats like a high school wrestling team.

But the point is to both see what York has learned, what he's comfortable with, and to see to compensating for his blind spot. And Malcolm is happy to exploit the hell out of that spot to prove a point.

And to win.

They wrestle on the mats for another thirty seconds before Mal does something sneaky and pins him. Two one. He still got that one point and that's good enough for him. Takes Mal another three minutes of jabbing his left side over and over before he manages to get York down and pinned on his back, breathing hard and laughing even if he technically died.

Jesus.

"...I think I pulled something."

"That's why you stretch and warm up beforehand," he says easily, practically sitting on York's chest. "Which," he is quick to point out to anyone lingering, "the kaiju will not give you a chance to do, but to be fair you also aren't going to be this active inside the cockpit." Well, yes, active, but not flinging themselves across rooms or twirling like ballerinas.

Time to help him up. "Good show, Mr. Murray. Get yourself to the infirmary if need be."

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