No Face


eliot_icon.gif minea_icon.gif

Scene Title No Face
Synopsis Eliot and Minea have a little lovetap session.
Date April 12, 2009

Pete's Gym

The gym, when viewed from the outside, hardly looks? reputable. Given some of the folks that stand outside, talking, taking a drink, whatever, most wouldn't find this place to be inviting. But at second glance the atmosphere without is a bit more than it appears. People talk, chat, laugh. There are no gang tags, or even colors. Above the door is a very simple black and white sign, that announces this as 'Pete's Gym'. Hanging on the sign are a pair of boxing gloves that have been bronze plated, perhaps 'Pete's' old gloves from yesteryear."

Inside is another story altogether. While it's far from the cleanest of places, there's an aura of 'welcoming' within, most folk appear friendly enough, if a bit on the 'tough' side, and only a few have an appearance of territoriality. The equipment left out for members to use is a wide variety of old and new, heavy bags on one side, off to the side of those are speed bags. In the back is a full compliment of free weights and various tools there-in. In the middle of the room is the boxing ring, the old mat stained with sweat and blood. Hanging from another wall, off to the side by some lockers and the entrance to the changing rooms are some jump ropes for public use."

Minea's back in Pete's, only there's no math nerds in here this time. There's no well dressed woman either. Just her in her cotton shorts, layers tank tops, hair back in a ponytail and as sweaty as everyone else in this room. A turn on for some, a turn off for others. SHe's played with the weights, and she's onto skipping rope, an ipod strapped to her upper arm, with black ear buds making their way up to her ears. She's ignored the looks from the few others, the ones who haven't seen her in here, just concentrating on getting her workout done. She could work out at the company's facilities, but there's something to working out here and strangers and the anonymity.

And sometimes, the old faces. Eliot grew up in Brooklyn, and Pete is an old acquaintance. He hasn't been here in a while, though, but he's still got his nominal membership. Nobody would end it: everyone likes Eliot. He steps inside with his gym bag, heading for the side, giving a few people here and there a nod. He's in a pair of nice, loose-ankled track pants and a taut white wifebeater.

"Mr. Ford" Slightly breathless, the whir of the jumping rope in it's perpetual circumnavigation of the brunette followed by the slap of it skimming the poured cement floor beneath.. She's on one foot, the other tucked around her ankle, little hops that make her ponytail bob in rhythm with the rope.
Eliot lifts his eyes up and raises a brow. "Ms.…" oh, crap, what was her name again? Right! "…Dahl. This is a very welcome and unexpected surprise." He smiles. "I didn't know you came to Pete's."

"Since I moved here. I stumbled across it" She's still hopping away, conversation is not interrupted by her exercise, nor vice versa. Waste of time. "Since you're here, It would seem to be that you are a member as well?" Beads of sweat dot her forehead. No ladies and gentlemen, Minea doesn't perspire. She sweats. You would too in here.

Sweat is nice. Eliot, at least, seems to be enjoying the view. "Yeah, since I was a kid." He rolls his shoulders back and smiles at her, leaning against the wall and taking his sneakers off. "So what, you come here to jump rope?"

"If I wanted that only i'd go to the Balley's and jump rope with the stay at home mom's who won't break a glow" She switches feet, now jumping on her left, right curled around the ankle. "You?"

Eliot smirks, and reaches into his gym bag, pulling out a roll of bandage wrap meaningfully. He holds it so she can see it, and says, "Sparring."

"What's your poison?" Just fifteen more revolutions and she stops. She belongs here, it's easy enough to see, not hidden by layer of labeled clothing. The ropes wrapped up, tossed into the bucket that holds the others, working out a few stretches when she steps back onto some mats.

"Muay Thai." Eliot brushes his hands a bit and starts to bandage them, raising a brow at her. "Why? Do you fight?" He grins a little, somewhere between amused and impressed.

"Krav Maga" That seems to be her poison. "Bored pastime for a man with money?" Raised brows as she gives one last dip to stretch a leg and fetches her own bag and bandages to work around her own hands.

Eliot finishes bandaging up, and stretches slowly, shaking his head. "Noooo. Active practice of a kid who grew up in a Brooklyn orphanage. You can't be too careful."

"Makes sense. Who's your usual sparring partner?" She's meticulous in wrapping her hands, working it just right, alternatively keeping an eye on him, her hands and everyone else in the room. She's hanging out in Brooklyn for other reasons as well. "Or do you just show up and hope there's someone here to exchange love taps with?"

"I usually just hope there's someone around, or I start taking bets, or I take my frustrations out on the bag." He grabs a pair of gloves from his bag and puts them on, standing up and walking onto the mats.

And he's coming closer, which warrents the upturn of a smile from the other woman as Eliot nears. "Sounds like what I do. Though they tend to shy away from actually fighting a woman. Worried they'll hurt my sensibilities"

"D'you have sensibilities to hurt, Minea? I won't fight you if you'd rather I be chivalrous about this whole thing." Eliot's smirk is sly, and he curls his fingers a few times into fists.

"My sensibilities are tucked away with my purse in the lock over younder. If I had sensibilities, I sure as hell wouldn't be here, where i'm likely to walk away with a bruise if not a cracked rib or two"

"Oooh, good." He lifts his hands up, and makes with the Bruce Lee 'bring it on' gesture. "Let's go then, Ms. Dahl. See what you're made of." He spreads his legs evenly, and starts to walk sideways slowly, in a circle.

Challenge! That makes her smile, even as she's taking a pair of gloves herself out of the black bag. She'll let him sit for a moment while she finishes getting ready, a shake of her head, ponytail swinging side to side. "Didn't think the streets of Brooklyn were so dangerous that you have to learn Muay Tahi. Who taught you?" She contemplates a mouth guard, but tosses that out of her mind. "No face" It's a given.

"I like to be prepared for any eventuality. And my teacher's not around anymore." He was very good, though. "No face." He agrees completely, lifting his hands defensively and waiting for her.

The other woman eases back onto the mat, keeping loose, close to herself, protecting her torso, slightly turned the side. Her whole demeanor gone serious from the relaxed that it was before. This isn't a game for her, she actually throws the whole of herself into this. Minea shuffles forward a little, working to get a rise from Eliot, to see how he moves, get a good judge of him before she'll actually throw any punches at him. See if he's a serious trainer in what he does or whether he's just some weekend warrior.

He takes it seriously. He's also checking her out. You can hardly blame him, though. Eliot circles around her calmly, brushing off his knee with a hand lightly before bringing his fists back up to shoulder height. "Ladies first."

'"Such a gentleman" is murmured before she darts forward, one hand flashing out to test his defenses. Right hand to that respective side, fists curled beneath the glove, ready to deflect anything he chooses to throw back.

Eliot smacks the hand away, smirking. His counterattack is a bit more brutal than might be expected: he aims a kick at her thigh, with his shin. Muay Thai fighters train their shins to be powerful weapons. It hurts like a bitch if it connects.

She deserved that. Used to men pulling the punches, pulling everything. There will be a bruise. But with the gates open, as the kick connects with her shin, Minea's pressing forward regardless. She can't go for the face, she'd be all over that in a heartbeat, without a whit to the marks that would be left behind. She throws her power into her own knee, bringing it around and towards his ribs, while she attempts to distract with her fist rapidly attacking his one arm.

Another advantage of the Muay Thai fighter? Early on they are taught to defend with their knees and elbows, making close contact something of a hazard. He doesn't try to hit her back, but he curls his forearms over his chest to defend it, angling his elbow at her knee, so when it connects, it hits something hard and pointy.

and Minea's taught to get them down, get them down fast and carry on to the next person. Her knee's deflected, and she backs away, circling. "Nice job Ford"

Eliot lifts his hands up innocently. "You're the one that said she wanted something serious." He winks at her, and then sidles in, jabbing out with his hands: jab, jab, cross, and then a swinging kick from the side that could take down a bouncer.

Block, block, catch the cross and slide to the side, her hand closing on his arm and trying to use his body's momentum to flip him forward, guide him into a roll - no Eliot, she's nice, won't face plant you - and with her free hand aim a punch to his lover back, quick, nasty, aimed to just hurt, not damage the poor guy and keep behind him.

It's nice that he isn't face planting. Her fist to the small of his back makes him grunt and he tucks into a roll, turning about on his shoulder and skidding to a stop. He rises, and steps in again, waiting for her to come at him this time.

Minea obliges, even as he's getting up and stepping in. SHe steps in to meet him, foot going low, aiming for just below his knee, then back a fraction of an inch to try and aim for higher, even as she's trying to bring her same side in for an elbow to his upper arm. Something has to land.

Eliot ignores the elbow because when she lifts her leg higher, he dashes in for a quick tackle. He slides his hand inside her thigh, under her leg, and bum-rushes her, trying to get her on her back.

Hop hop hop, back she goes, trying to keep up. He's going to get her down, but she shifts her center of gravity, aiming to land on her side with an audible groan, and him down there with her on his side. So he doesn't have the advantage at least. She's not used to dealing with him, or someone not pulling punches in a safe setting. Padded fists go at his side, working to roll him onto his back when they're down.

Eliot guards his side with his arm and tries to grapple her down to where she can't punch him anymore. Aw man, is he /smiling/ about all this? Yes, he is, right there on the mat, rolling around. He uses her momentum to roll her on top of him and then try to get her on her back again.

He may have her arms tucked in, unable to use them, but there's knee's and there's a knee being maneuvered to kick in no mans land. Where no one should ever kick. She'll pull that one though, going for just a tap. Can't kill the baby maker. Think of the children, won't someone think of the children. After that, provided it succeeds, the woman's tearing herself away from him, out of his grip so she can scuttle away.

"Ow!" Eliot says, not actually hurt but surprised that she'd go for that. "Hey!" He rolls away, pushing himself up to his feet. "I thought it was implied that 'no face' means 'nowhere worse than the face either'."

"You agreed to something serious" Now it's Minea's turn to wink, mimic him from earlier. "I'm sure you can find a woman to put some ice on it for the whole five minutes before you bed her" She flex's her fingers behind the gloves. "Besides, I pulled it, and your hands sure went somewhere while you were grappling me" All's fair in love and sparring it seems.

Eliot smirks. "You wouldn't happen to have some ice on you, would you?" He looks downright smug.

"I'm sure Pete can find some for you. Giving up? Or coming at me again" Cocky, Minea's ready, tongue darting out to run back and forth over her lower lip and wet it, eye narrowed and fists up.

Eliot rolls his eyes and smiles at her. He rolls his head a little, loosens his shoulders, and then hops back in at her. He fakes a kick to her leg before lifting his other foot high at her shoulder.

Turn and block that first leg and bring her arm up under the second leg. She takes the kick to her shoulder, but her arms block him from bring that foot down and she takes the momentum that he inflicted on her and turns it into pushing that high leg higher and knock on his ass, her other foot aiding in that with a hooking of her foot around his ankle and pulling it forward, change Eliots center of gravity. She's going to have plenty of bruises regardless.

Eliot falls. It's a hard, solid thud on the mattress. As soon as he's on the floor, his legs shoot out, scissor style at hers, trying to knock her down, too.

Going down! But then, she didn't try to move out of the way. Just lands on her own back, bringing a heel down on his stomach as she does, scissored between his. "Had enough?" Spoken out towards the ceiling.

"For now, yeah," Eliot says, rolling away and pushing himself to his knees, hands pressed against the top of his head.

Fair enough" A glance to the clock. "I have things to do anyways and need to shower" She slips forward though, offer him a hand up and a small straight bow. "Your good Ford"

"Uh huh," Eliot says, smirking at her. He salutes a bit, and then pushes himself to his feet. "You too."
"Next time Ford. Leave a note about when your around. I'll spar with you. Full gear so we're not pulling punches" She unstraps her gloves, heading for her bag to grab a towel and hang it around her neck, alot more sweat wetting in a V pattern. "Enjoy the rest of your day Mr. Ford"

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