For someone whose strength was once her wrestling ability and her fearlessness with the required moves, Johanna has developed an intense hatred of being touched. It isn't always an issue, but when it is an issue, it's a feeling she can't ignore, as palpable as something crawling over her skin. She feels a tingle of it when Kate locks her knees around her neck. Too close, a ratchet toward an anxiety that borders on a panic--but she suppresses it for now, forces herself to work past it with her teeth gritted.
Because while Kate's maneuver lacks some measure of strength, it's enough, at least, to pull Johanna forward, to make breathing a little difficult. She twists to grip at Kate's legs--not with the intent of pulling them apart, but digging in, like she's holding on to her--in part to ground herself, and in part a gesture of false confidence, confidence that she does not really feel--and she grins, all teeth, what little inhalation she can manage sluicing through before she lets it out, unsteady--
"What now, Katie?" It comes out a little choked, but she's still breathing. You'll have to do better than that is how she might follow it up, if she thought she could spare the breath. She probably can't, but she doesn't let on. Instead, she lets her grin say that for her.
Kate has always preferred fighting from her feet to wrestling. It's more detached, more clinical, and frankly more satisfying. Taking someone down with a few quick punches or a well-placed kick, fighting a whole crowd, ducking and jabbing. It's graceful and brutal and impressive to watch. (Not that she gets to watch herself, but it feels like it is. It is when other people do it and she's as good as they are, so. Safe to assume she too looks like a badass.)
Wrestling is none of those things. It's messy and confusing and sweaty and instinctual. It's not at all what she prefers but somehow right now it feels right. It gets her out of her own head in a way nothing else has lately, too demanding to let her brain get away with its usual constant noise. It's too visceral, a thousand pieces of sensory input from the mat sticking between her shoulder blades to Johanna's pulse against her knee, her breath on her chest, sweat collecting at her sternum, the fingers digging into her legs, the pounding of blood through the new scar tissue at her throat and arm.
What now? "Now I choke you out and win," she replies through her teeth. Her voice is thickened by the fact that it's not actually very easy to breathe from her position either, but it's missing the raw-nerved fury she came in with, which has faded as they've gone on, as she's gotten more invested, more distracted. She locks her ankles and pulls until they're basically both nose to navel, which is absurd and far from comfortable, but if she can just keep that hold on Johanna's throat, she can win. She could use a win.
She struggles to breathe out, a short, sharp sound--a laugh, really--because if there's one thing she both hates and appreciates, it's balls. Kate has proved herself. It has not endeared her to Johanna, necessarily; there's nothing that can endear anyone. But she appreciates it, which counts for a hell of a lot more.
All of that amusement is in her response. One word, bitten out: "No."
With a grunt of effort, Johanna digs her fingers in a little deeper--and uses that momentum to arch her back, raise her head as much as she possibly can. It isn't much, but it stops a little of the pressure on her throat, releases a bit of the dizzying feeling working against her. It also distances herself from Kate, warmth and damp sweat--and then she hoists her hips as high as she can, digs her knees in against the mat and pushes, her shoulders against the back of Kate's thighs, pushing up on her legs as she does. The movement jams her face against Kate's midsection for a moment, but she tries to arch her neck upwards again, alleviate the strain that puts on her neck once more. If she can get Kate to give first--and she probably can't--but the slim narrow chance is one she has to take.
"Yes," Kate replies, because that's how this is going to be. The laugh in Johanna's tone translates, and to her surprise she finds herself grinning. "And then you're gonna show me how to throw that axe. Business after pleasure, remember?" It's a tease and a taunt, shamelessly goading, throwing Johanna's words back in her face but with too much of a laugh suddenly in her throat to be mean, exactly. Ballsy is pretty spot on.
It's not an easy position to hold, as much as her bantering might suggest otherwise. Johanna pulling against it makes it easier in one way but harder in another, and Kate is forced to sacrifice a little of the clamp around her throat in exchange for just holding on at all. She's been using her arms for balance, out to each side by her hips, but reaches up now to throw them around Johanna's back and pull down against her upward pressure.
How exactly is Kate deciding which is which? Maybe this is pleasure because it's for fun--which it is, now, as deep as Johanna's competitive streak runs and as angry as she perpetually is, there is some level of fun to this. Sweaty body-to-body contact, is that your idea of fun?--but she doesn't have the breath with which to reply, for all that she's straining to keep herself unchoaked.
Only it gives her an idea. As Kate hauls her forward, it lets in a little more oxygen, it clears Johanna's head--and it shoves her face against Kate's stomach again, she doesn't have the time in which to twist away. But that suits her fine. The coupe de grâce, here: when Kate pulls her forward, when her face gets crushed against Kate, Johanna's fingertips push in on their grip, and she flat-out kisses Kate's stomach.
It's a little squashed, a little clumsy and crushed, but there's no mistaking it for what it is. Just for the hell of it, just to see how she'll react--but Johanna is pretty certain of how she'll react. And if she doesn't, well. Johanna isn't a graceful loser. But she'll make up for it. Just don't say she went out without a fight, whatever finishing move she used.
She's deciding which is which based on what Johanna said last time but she would call this fun, now. Not when she came in, but it's become fun at some point. Don't ask her why. (It might be the sweaty body-to-body contact.)
She does sort of a double-take at the kiss, a full-body startle Johanna can feel in the jump of the abs under her face and the brief loosening of the hold around her throat. "What the-- did you just kiss me?" Kate's voice can't quite decide if it's more shocked or laughing. It's leaning toward laughing, even as she's probably struggling to maintain a hold as Johanna takes advantage of her momentary lapse. "What the fuck!?"
There's no conscious decision involved in Kate leaning up and pressing her mouth to Johanna's abdomen, just some gut instinct that she has been one-upped and that can't be allowed to stand. Whatever advantage that gained she'll win back with an open-lipped kiss, necessarily a little rushed and awkward but yes that was tongue at her navel because Kate Bishop does not half-ass things even when they are really weird and stupid and poorly thought-out.
The minor success is overshadowed just slightly by Kate's return volley, a kiss that is definitely unplanned but one which also includes a bit of tongue. That brief sensation, mixed with the grip of the hold--it's a little pleasure-and-pain thing, thrilling in its way--and Johanna grins even as Kate struggles to reclaim her hold. Raising the stakes a little, Katie?
"Let go." Kate's moment of distraction didn't earn Johanna her freedom, but it did earn her a bit of wiggle room, enough that she could get in a bit more respite from the choke hold, and, thus, a bit more air. The words come out strained, but not half as choked. "We'll call it a draw, Katie." Kiss for kiss and grip for grip. There's a lingering salty taste of sweat on her lips, and it's not all her own. This sure is an exciting fight.
Kate's laugh is strained, by effort and also the what the fuck did I just do?? that is dominating her brain for the moment. Because seriously, what the fuck? But weird as it is, whatever. She did it, it's done, Johanna started it anyway. Hawkeye does not get derailed by one weird kiss-attack. (Not this Hawkeye, anyway.)
So it's definitely a laugh, and it lingers in her tone. She licks her lips. "It's not a draw, I'm fucking beating you!" Just to prove it she tightens her grip again, or attempts to, legs clamping and fingers digging into Johanna's ribs where her arms are wrapped. But she's made her point, she thinks, (whatever that is) and if she keeps pushing either Johanna's going to bite her or just get too pissed to show her axe-throwing, so. She lets go, limbs dropping, stretching out on the mat as Johanna is freed.
Stars burst across Johanna's vision at the sudden tight grip of Kate's legs--and she gasps, before her breath is cut off. She can't help herself. A sudden lack of air will do that to you, your own fucking body betraying you.
But just as soon as the pressure's increased, it's gone again--and it's for the best that Kate lets up, because a kiss is easily followed by a bite, because if Johanna had gotten her head together she would, without question, have bitten Kate. Only Kate lets up, and Johanna twists away, instantly, flopping back onto the mat with a huge gulp of a breath. She lays there for a moment, boneless--but that's the kind of laxness that shows weakness, and weakness only ever gets you killed. Still a little dizzy, she plants her palms on the mat and shoves herself up.
"A draw," she repeats, for emphasis, her breathing still a little ragged. "Ready for business, now that pleasure's out of the way?"
She licks her top lip, just a little. Still a little salty, and it's not, by the way, as casual a move as it might seem. A bit too calculated for that. Pleasure indeed.
Kate's sprawl across the mat is a casually artful splay of limbs but not actually as at ease as it seems. She hasn't forgotten what happened at the end of their last bout, and while Johanna's axe is further away this time she remains ready, one eye on her in case she makes a move for it again.
But she doesn't, so Kate regains her breath, wiping at sweat with a hand down the center line of her torso and a forearm across her brow. She smirks at 'a draw', clearly maintaining victory in her own mind, but doesn't dispute it aloud. "Sure," is an easier response. She looks up at Johanna as she rolls to her knees and gets to her feet, but it's readiness more than wariness, at this point. Her eye catches on that split second of tongue, perfectly timed as she straightens into a stand. "Whenever you're ready," she replies, gesturing across the gym toward the couple targets hung on a wall, distances measured out.
That she wets her lips as she turns away, teeth dragging across the lower, is entirely uncalculated, however it may look.
Edited (more fussing don't look at me) 2014-08-27 04:40 (UTC)
If you don't contest a draw, then the rules of the draw state: it's a damn draw. Johanna is satisfied with that, and satisfied with Kate catching even a glimpse of tongue. You don't stop playing a game with someone just because the fight portion of it is over, not if you're playing to win. If Kate knows the game--that one's more difficult to say.
But, axes. That's way more Johanna's style. She shifts to her feet and strides over to where she's left them, laying beside her t-shirt, heads gleaming in the light. Their handles fit easily against her palms--not the wood that she was used to, from childhood, but hard metal and plastic, manufactured somewhere for the Games. The thought is not a pleasant one, but axes are axes. If Johanna wanted reminders of childhood, she'd get a treeline tattooed on the inside of her eyelids, so she could see the forest whenever she managed to sleep.
As if to prove this to herself, she grips at both axes as she stands. Three seconds, to size up the targets as she approaches, gets a bit closer--and then Johanna shifts, abruptly, mid-step, sinks down into the proper stance as her fingers slide neatly down the shaft toward the bottom--brings the axe up in an arc, up from her knee, and sends it whirling through the air. Head over shaft, over head, over shaft, and then, thunk, the blade bites right into the center of one of the targets.
Pleased with herself, she turns to Kate, and holds out the spare axe. "It's not in the wrist. That's the first thing to remember. And you want them dull. They grip your target better when they're dull. More screaming." She wiggles the axe, enticingly.
A win is a win no matter what the loser calls it, says Kate. If they had a judge this wouldn't even be a question. Whatever, she doesn't need Johanna's approval!!
But axes. She's expecting the throw - she can see it coming in the way Johanna approaches, where her eyes go, the turn of shoulders and hips in the seconds before she takes that stance (and it's Johanna; it just seems likely). The telegraphing doesn't make it less impressive. As an archer and an expert athlete she appreciates that deadly aim and the obvious mastery. As a person with eyes, there's the grace and strength and it's just pretty damn cool. Axes.
She shakes out her arms as she steps up, wrapping a hand around the axe Johanna seems to be offering. She snorts softly at that advice, rolling her neck and shoulders, and turns to eye the target. She looks comfortable with the weapon in her hand, twirling it twice and re-setting her grip. She takes a step away from Johanna, steps up, and throws. It's not from the wrist, but it's also not...very good. For a first time, sure, it's great, but Kate's talked a pretty big game last time they met and now the axe thunks into the wall high above the target. She steps back with a frown.
Johanna's smirk ought to telegraph even more loudly than her intent had. There is zero attempt made to hide her expression, and she turns slowly from the target so she can look at Kate, her hands on her hips, mocking.
"Wow," she drawls. "And you told me this was your first time."
Truthfully, the throw isn't that bad, for a beginner. It probably helps that Kate is an archer, that she's got an understanding of aim and accuracy in a way that some nobody might be lacking--but like Johanna is going to say that. Encouragement might as well be a foreign thing to her. And like hell she's going to give archery any credit, for anything. Archery makes her think of Katniss, turns her smile a little wry. She'd said she'd teach Katniss something about axes, too. Will she be better, or worse, than Kate?
"You put it up there, you get to go and get it down. Bring it back and I'll show you all the things you did wrong." All, did you get that, Kate, because there are so many. Expectantly, Johanna folds her arms over her chest and stands back. "Go ahead."
Kate only turns for a second, long enough to take in the smirk and the hands on hips. She lifts her own hand as she focuses back on the target, middle finger raised at Johanna's mocking. (And she's totally better than Katniss.) In her head she's going through her best guess at what all she did wrong, visualizing what must have happened. And then realizing when Johanna mentions it that it stuck up there, since of course the gym wall is padded so things don't ricochet and kill people by accident.
It's way out of her reach, but she heads down the lane anyway without hesitation, still giving Johanna the finger over her shoulder for a few paces. When she reaches the target she first pulls Johanna's axe out of its center and chops it into the wall around hip height instead. A foot braced there gives her a boost, something to push off so she can jump and grab the one she threw, ripping it out of the wall and dropping to her feet. She considers leaving the one she didn't throw herself, but whatever. She swings them both in her hands as she returns.
It's been a while since she's found herself in a student sort of situation like this and part of her rankles at it but she shoves it down and shrugs at Johanna. "Show me, then."
The rude gesture only makes Johanna's smirk widen, pleased. Sometimes she likes and appreciates a little nastiness, in response to her nastiness. Sometimes she hates it. But her fight with Kate has put her in the former mood, rather than the latter, like they're in some sort of bad attitude club. She watches Kate cross to the target, watches the easy way that she climbs up and fetches the other axe--nice, and nice--and she keeps watching her, appreciatively, as she crosses back. It's a moment of observation that goes on just a bit too long, maybe, a study of every bit of Kate--but then Johanna shifts, abruptly, takes back both axes and drops one to the floor. Its blade bites in to the mat, with a muffled thunk, and it sticks there.
The other axe she takes in hand, an easy, loose grip. "Thumb here," she says, laying it flat against the handle. "Keep the head straight--turn it sideways and you won't have any control. And grip it like this, easy. Pretend like you're a nice polite girl, and you're shaking hands with someone you just met."
Kate is oblivious to the scrutiny, except maybe at the last second, catching some sense of movement just as Johanna looks away. She doesn't make anything of it, focused immediately on the axes. She watches, and lifts a brow. "You say that like I'm not a nice polite girl," she replies, too dryly for there to be any sense she's taken real offense. But she knows how to play the part -- if Johanna were the sort for shaking hands she'd know Kate's is practice-perfect. But she's not, and Kate isn't about to offer up that part of her life as additional fodder for mockery. Johanna needs no assistance and it's not like she's volunteering facts about herself.
She steps closer and bends to take the other axe up from where it's dug into the mat, and she wraps her fingers around it the way Johanna has demonstrated. "And? What else? I need to release later, obviously."
"Obviously," she drawls in response--and she can't help herself, she reaches to push at Kate's finger, the one flat against the handle, adjusting her grip just slightly. It's a totally unnecessary move, there's not really anything that needs adjusting--she's just proving a point, really--and she fixes Kate with an innocent little smile to disarm any offense.
"Look at the target, and swing your arm down along your side. Once it's past your knee, swing it back up. When the blade gets past your head, swing forward--and when your arm is straight, let go. Just make sure you've got a decent follow-through. Here--"
And she steps just behind Kate, like her shadow, and she lets her arm come along Kate's side so she can slip her hand over hers, echoing the grip she's got on the axe handle.
"Swing down," she instructs, like this position is the most natural thing in the world, like she's not stepped in very close to Kate, so close her breath tickles at her ear when she talks. She guides Kate's arm down, almost gently.
Kate is caught off guard by the sudden switch from making fun to actually coaching, and there's no time to really react or protest before the hands-on demonstration begins. Hair at the back of her neck prickles, and Johanna can probably even see the goosebumps race from her ear down her spine the first time she speaks so close.
Though she is focusing on the actual instruction, this has suddenly become a scene from a bad romantic comedy and Kate wonders whether Johanna's world has those, or if she's oblivious to the cliches being misapplied here to their totally platonic situation. The little she's gleaned, from cryptic comments and the fights on the network, suggests that it could definitely be the sort of sad dystopia where this scenario doesn't conjure up a hundred movie references that lead directly to make outs.
She can't resist making the joke anyway, pushing her voice a little lower, just the slightest bit breathy, so when she asks, "Then what?" it comes out lightly suggestive. Plausibly deniable in case Johanna doesn't get it, but there. And she manages not to laugh, which helps.
The last 'romantic comedy' that Johanna laughed at was the star-crossed lovers routine during the 74th Hunger Games. Hilarious, especially the way that people ate that shit up. Otherwise, the genre is sort of non-existent in Panem--to say nothing of movies in general--but lucky for Kate, basic innuendo remains universal.
What's surprising is that Kate is willing to play back a little. The goosebumps didn't go unnoticed--but that's an unwitting answer, a physical response to the physical. Whereas the sudden breathy quality to her tone, the teasing little question--those are definitely deliberate, and Johanna is sharp enough to know that they were choices Kate made. What she means by those choices is a bit more vague--just how jokey is the joke?--but it's a step in the right direction, no matter what. You want to play, Katie? Good.
"Then," she answers, dropping her voice so it's just a murmur, "you swing your arm back up," and she guides Kate's arm up, slowly, "and when the blade is up near your ear-- you let go."
The moment is very quickly ruined. Whatever tension breaks on go, as Johanna suddenly lets go of Kate's arm and steps back from her, and shoves her in the center of her back. With any luck, it will be quick enough to send her stumbling forward.
After all, the moment can't get too heavy. Not yet. Keep her guessing.
It's pretty jokey, or so Kate thinks when she makes it. But then Johanna is speaking softly against the back of her neck as she directs her arm, and she has a moment to wonder whether she has miscalculated. Maybe she should have played it broader, exaggerated the voice so that there was no chance Johanna could miss it. But if she's missed it then this little escalation makes no sense, right? She must get it but be joking back, since otherwise she's actually flirting and that-- that thought is about to make Kate laugh. She never has a chance to (which is maybe just as well because it might have come out a more unsteady sort of laugh than she'd like).
Before she can Johanna gives her that shove and Kate stumbles a step forward. But just a step, distracted but quick-footed. "What the hell?" She's clearly annoyed at most, bemused more than mad and the weird tension of the moment before - whatever it was - quickly forgotten. She turns, axe still in hand, arm having fallen heavily back to her side as she caught her balance. She gives Johanna's shoulder a shove in return in token retaliation and steps back up toward the target.
Her wind up is better this time and the release too, and this time the axe bites into the wall just southwest of the target. Kate is clearly still dissatisfied, and she cocks her head to walk back through it in her mind as she frowns. She doesn't head down the line right away, instead taking up axe number two from the mat.
Edited (de-shittifying this tag a little) 2014-08-28 22:35 (UTC)
Shoving is just as good as flirting, especially when the two acts are combined. Johanna doesn't snap back, as she might otherwise--but she doesn't let Kate's shove move her very much either, just greets it with a grin, and no explanation whatsoever, before she stands back to watch Kate give it another shot.
The miss makes her laugh. Kate's close scrutiny suggests that she won't be satisfied with that, that she's going to follow it up--and sure enough, she takes up the second axe, her eyes still fixed on the target, and Johanna heaves a chiding little sigh, her arms folded over her chest.
"Don't you have any manners? You ask a girl before you take her other axe." And there's no more helpful teacher routine, now that the flirting is done. Johanna just stands in critical observance, her mouth pinched at once side in a smirk.
Kate retorts without turning, focused on the target and the axe in her hand which she is definitely not putting back down. She does roll her eyes, just in case Johanna thinks she cares about impressing her. She kinda does, but mostly she just dislikes not being excellent. Also being called Katie.
Her next throw still isn't the perfection she'd prefer, but it's closer. It would be a bullseye if it were a couple feet higher, but at least this one makes the edge of the target. She doesn't say anything but her nose and lip twitch into a suggestion of a frown and she heads down the lane to retrieve the axes without waiting for Johanna's commentary.
"I'd love to make you say please." Yet another idle, teasing comment from Johanna. She stands, her arms still folded across her chest, her eyebrows still raised in judgement. Her gaze tracks the path of the axe through the air--another smirk, as the blade bites into the target.
And just because Kate's not waiting for her commentary doesn't mean she won't offer it. As her new friend strides away, Johanna calls after her: "Not as easy as archery, is it? But you'll get it. Keep trying."
That might almost be interpreted as encouragement, except for the heavy mockery that shades her tone. Oh well.
Kate snorts at that remark and otherwise doesn't respond, unless you count the new flash of goosebumps down her spine. Clearly there's a draft in here somewhere.
She laughs as she gets to the targets, rocking the axe handles back and forth a couple times until the heads come free. "This is so much easier than archery. It's harder than darts?" You know, if that makes Johanna feel better. She shrugs as she walks back, returning to the rough throw line they've been working with. Two more tosses, each closer than the last. She hasn't quite got the proper elbow angle down yet but she's getting there.
"Oh, that's funny." Rather than take offense, Johanna shifts her weight to her other leg, letting her hip cock out to the side a bit. She watches Kate's return; she watches Kate throw; she watches Kate miss the center of the target. She isn't bad. She definitely has the right sense. Whatever training she's had has probably helped her there--but she's still not making her mark. And even when she does, she still won't be Johanna Mason.
But really: who is Johanna Mason, except Johanna.
Anyways, Kate is still fun to watch. Johanna's not wandering off any time soon, and not just because Kate's got her axes. After the second toss, Johanna cocks her right eyebrow, just a little, her mouth still pinched in that smirk.
"So you're a good archer... and this is easier than archery." She draws an invisible line between the two points, in mid-air. "Does that mean you suck at archery, because you suck at this."
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alsohawkeye) wrote2024-01-11 07:28 pm
well IT'S WORKING
Because while Kate's maneuver lacks some measure of strength, it's enough, at least, to pull Johanna forward, to make breathing a little difficult. She twists to grip at Kate's legs--not with the intent of pulling them apart, but digging in, like she's holding on to her--in part to ground herself, and in part a gesture of false confidence, confidence that she does not really feel--and she grins, all teeth, what little inhalation she can manage sluicing through before she lets it out, unsteady--
"What now, Katie?" It comes out a little choked, but she's still breathing. You'll have to do better than that is how she might follow it up, if she thought she could spare the breath. She probably can't, but she doesn't let on. Instead, she lets her grin say that for her.
WELL GOOD
Wrestling is none of those things. It's messy and confusing and sweaty and instinctual. It's not at all what she prefers but somehow right now it feels right. It gets her out of her own head in a way nothing else has lately, too demanding to let her brain get away with its usual constant noise. It's too visceral, a thousand pieces of sensory input from the mat sticking between her shoulder blades to Johanna's pulse against her knee, her breath on her chest, sweat collecting at her sternum, the fingers digging into her legs, the pounding of blood through the new scar tissue at her throat and arm.
What now? "Now I choke you out and win," she replies through her teeth. Her voice is thickened by the fact that it's not actually very easy to breathe from her position either, but it's missing the raw-nerved fury she came in with, which has faded as they've gone on, as she's gotten more invested, more distracted. She locks her ankles and pulls until they're basically both nose to navel, which is absurd and far from comfortable, but if she can just keep that hold on Johanna's throat, she can win. She could use a win.
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All of that amusement is in her response. One word, bitten out: "No."
With a grunt of effort, Johanna digs her fingers in a little deeper--and uses that momentum to arch her back, raise her head as much as she possibly can. It isn't much, but it stops a little of the pressure on her throat, releases a bit of the dizzying feeling working against her. It also distances herself from Kate, warmth and damp sweat--and then she hoists her hips as high as she can, digs her knees in against the mat and pushes, her shoulders against the back of Kate's thighs, pushing up on her legs as she does. The movement jams her face against Kate's midsection for a moment, but she tries to arch her neck upwards again, alleviate the strain that puts on her neck once more. If she can get Kate to give first--and she probably can't--but the slim narrow chance is one she has to take.
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It's not an easy position to hold, as much as her bantering might suggest otherwise. Johanna pulling against it makes it easier in one way but harder in another, and Kate is forced to sacrifice a little of the clamp around her throat in exchange for just holding on at all. She's been using her arms for balance, out to each side by her hips, but reaches up now to throw them around Johanna's back and pull down against her upward pressure.
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Only it gives her an idea. As Kate hauls her forward, it lets in a little more oxygen, it clears Johanna's head--and it shoves her face against Kate's stomach again, she doesn't have the time in which to twist away. But that suits her fine. The coupe de grâce, here: when Kate pulls her forward, when her face gets crushed against Kate, Johanna's fingertips push in on their grip, and she flat-out kisses Kate's stomach.
It's a little squashed, a little clumsy and crushed, but there's no mistaking it for what it is. Just for the hell of it, just to see how she'll react--but Johanna is pretty certain of how she'll react. And if she doesn't, well. Johanna isn't a graceful loser. But she'll make up for it. Just don't say she went out without a fight, whatever finishing move she used.
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She does sort of a double-take at the kiss, a full-body startle Johanna can feel in the jump of the abs under her face and the brief loosening of the hold around her throat. "What the-- did you just kiss me?" Kate's voice can't quite decide if it's more shocked or laughing. It's leaning toward laughing, even as she's probably struggling to maintain a hold as Johanna takes advantage of her momentary lapse. "What the fuck!?"
There's no conscious decision involved in Kate leaning up and pressing her mouth to Johanna's abdomen, just some gut instinct that she has been one-upped and that can't be allowed to stand. Whatever advantage that gained she'll win back with an open-lipped kiss, necessarily a little rushed and awkward but yes that was tongue at her navel because Kate Bishop does not half-ass things even when they are really weird and stupid and poorly thought-out.
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"Let go." Kate's moment of distraction didn't earn Johanna her freedom, but it did earn her a bit of wiggle room, enough that she could get in a bit more respite from the choke hold, and, thus, a bit more air. The words come out strained, but not half as choked. "We'll call it a draw, Katie." Kiss for kiss and grip for grip. There's a lingering salty taste of sweat on her lips, and it's not all her own. This sure is an exciting fight.
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So it's definitely a laugh, and it lingers in her tone. She licks her lips. "It's not a draw, I'm fucking beating you!" Just to prove it she tightens her grip again, or attempts to, legs clamping and fingers digging into Johanna's ribs where her arms are wrapped. But she's made her point, she thinks, (whatever that is) and if she keeps pushing either Johanna's going to bite her or just get too pissed to show her axe-throwing, so. She lets go, limbs dropping, stretching out on the mat as Johanna is freed.
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But just as soon as the pressure's increased, it's gone again--and it's for the best that Kate lets up, because a kiss is easily followed by a bite, because if Johanna had gotten her head together she would, without question, have bitten Kate. Only Kate lets up, and Johanna twists away, instantly, flopping back onto the mat with a huge gulp of a breath. She lays there for a moment, boneless--but that's the kind of laxness that shows weakness, and weakness only ever gets you killed. Still a little dizzy, she plants her palms on the mat and shoves herself up.
"A draw," she repeats, for emphasis, her breathing still a little ragged. "Ready for business, now that pleasure's out of the way?"
She licks her top lip, just a little. Still a little salty, and it's not, by the way, as casual a move as it might seem. A bit too calculated for that. Pleasure indeed.
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But she doesn't, so Kate regains her breath, wiping at sweat with a hand down the center line of her torso and a forearm across her brow. She smirks at 'a draw', clearly maintaining victory in her own mind, but doesn't dispute it aloud. "Sure," is an easier response. She looks up at Johanna as she rolls to her knees and gets to her feet, but it's readiness more than wariness, at this point. Her eye catches on that split second of tongue, perfectly timed as she straightens into a stand. "Whenever you're ready," she replies, gesturing across the gym toward the couple targets hung on a wall, distances measured out.
That she wets her lips as she turns away, teeth dragging across the lower, is entirely uncalculated, however it may look.
LOOKS AT YOU
But, axes. That's way more Johanna's style. She shifts to her feet and strides over to where she's left them, laying beside her t-shirt, heads gleaming in the light. Their handles fit easily against her palms--not the wood that she was used to, from childhood, but hard metal and plastic, manufactured somewhere for the Games. The thought is not a pleasant one, but axes are axes. If Johanna wanted reminders of childhood, she'd get a treeline tattooed on the inside of her eyelids, so she could see the forest whenever she managed to sleep.
As if to prove this to herself, she grips at both axes as she stands. Three seconds, to size up the targets as she approaches, gets a bit closer--and then Johanna shifts, abruptly, mid-step, sinks down into the proper stance as her fingers slide neatly down the shaft toward the bottom--brings the axe up in an arc, up from her knee, and sends it whirling through the air. Head over shaft, over head, over shaft, and then, thunk, the blade bites right into the center of one of the targets.
Pleased with herself, she turns to Kate, and holds out the spare axe. "It's not in the wrist. That's the first thing to remember. And you want them dull. They grip your target better when they're dull. More screaming." She wiggles the axe, enticingly.
HIDES
But axes. She's expecting the throw - she can see it coming in the way Johanna approaches, where her eyes go, the turn of shoulders and hips in the seconds before she takes that stance (and it's Johanna; it just seems likely). The telegraphing doesn't make it less impressive. As an archer and an expert athlete she appreciates that deadly aim and the obvious mastery. As a person with eyes, there's the grace and strength and it's just pretty damn cool. Axes.
She shakes out her arms as she steps up, wrapping a hand around the axe Johanna seems to be offering. She snorts softly at that advice, rolling her neck and shoulders, and turns to eye the target. She looks comfortable with the weapon in her hand, twirling it twice and re-setting her grip. She takes a step away from Johanna, steps up, and throws. It's not from the wrist, but it's also not...very good. For a first time, sure, it's great, but Kate's talked a pretty big game last time they met and now the axe thunks into the wall high above the target. She steps back with a frown.
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"Wow," she drawls. "And you told me this was your first time."
Truthfully, the throw isn't that bad, for a beginner. It probably helps that Kate is an archer, that she's got an understanding of aim and accuracy in a way that some nobody might be lacking--but like Johanna is going to say that. Encouragement might as well be a foreign thing to her. And like hell she's going to give archery any credit, for anything. Archery makes her think of Katniss, turns her smile a little wry. She'd said she'd teach Katniss something about axes, too. Will she be better, or worse, than Kate?
"You put it up there, you get to go and get it down. Bring it back and I'll show you all the things you did wrong." All, did you get that, Kate, because there are so many. Expectantly, Johanna folds her arms over her chest and stands back. "Go ahead."
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It's way out of her reach, but she heads down the lane anyway without hesitation, still giving Johanna the finger over her shoulder for a few paces. When she reaches the target she first pulls Johanna's axe out of its center and chops it into the wall around hip height instead. A foot braced there gives her a boost, something to push off so she can jump and grab the one she threw, ripping it out of the wall and dropping to her feet. She considers leaving the one she didn't throw herself, but whatever. She swings them both in her hands as she returns.
It's been a while since she's found herself in a student sort of situation like this and part of her rankles at it but she shoves it down and shrugs at Johanna. "Show me, then."
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The other axe she takes in hand, an easy, loose grip. "Thumb here," she says, laying it flat against the handle. "Keep the head straight--turn it sideways and you won't have any control. And grip it like this, easy. Pretend like you're a nice polite girl, and you're shaking hands with someone you just met."
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She steps closer and bends to take the other axe up from where it's dug into the mat, and she wraps her fingers around it the way Johanna has demonstrated. "And? What else? I need to release later, obviously."
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"Look at the target, and swing your arm down along your side. Once it's past your knee, swing it back up. When the blade gets past your head, swing forward--and when your arm is straight, let go. Just make sure you've got a decent follow-through. Here--"
And she steps just behind Kate, like her shadow, and she lets her arm come along Kate's side so she can slip her hand over hers, echoing the grip she's got on the axe handle.
"Swing down," she instructs, like this position is the most natural thing in the world, like she's not stepped in very close to Kate, so close her breath tickles at her ear when she talks. She guides Kate's arm down, almost gently.
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Though she is focusing on the actual instruction, this has suddenly become a scene from a bad romantic comedy and Kate wonders whether Johanna's world has those, or if she's oblivious to the cliches being misapplied here to their totally platonic situation. The little she's gleaned, from cryptic comments and the fights on the network, suggests that it could definitely be the sort of sad dystopia where this scenario doesn't conjure up a hundred movie references that lead directly to make outs.
She can't resist making the joke anyway, pushing her voice a little lower, just the slightest bit breathy, so when she asks, "Then what?" it comes out lightly suggestive. Plausibly deniable in case Johanna doesn't get it, but there. And she manages not to laugh, which helps.
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What's surprising is that Kate is willing to play back a little. The goosebumps didn't go unnoticed--but that's an unwitting answer, a physical response to the physical. Whereas the sudden breathy quality to her tone, the teasing little question--those are definitely deliberate, and Johanna is sharp enough to know that they were choices Kate made. What she means by those choices is a bit more vague--just how jokey is the joke?--but it's a step in the right direction, no matter what. You want to play, Katie? Good.
"Then," she answers, dropping her voice so it's just a murmur, "you swing your arm back up," and she guides Kate's arm up, slowly, "and when the blade is up near your ear-- you let go."
The moment is very quickly ruined. Whatever tension breaks on go, as Johanna suddenly lets go of Kate's arm and steps back from her, and shoves her in the center of her back. With any luck, it will be quick enough to send her stumbling forward.
After all, the moment can't get too heavy. Not yet. Keep her guessing.
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Before she can Johanna gives her that shove and Kate stumbles a step forward. But just a step, distracted but quick-footed. "What the hell?" She's clearly annoyed at most, bemused more than mad and the weird tension of the moment before - whatever it was - quickly forgotten. She turns, axe still in hand, arm having fallen heavily back to her side as she caught her balance. She gives Johanna's shoulder a shove in return in token retaliation and steps back up toward the target.
Her wind up is better this time and the release too, and this time the axe bites into the wall just southwest of the target. Kate is clearly still dissatisfied, and she cocks her head to walk back through it in her mind as she frowns. She doesn't head down the line right away, instead taking up axe number two from the mat.
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The miss makes her laugh. Kate's close scrutiny suggests that she won't be satisfied with that, that she's going to follow it up--and sure enough, she takes up the second axe, her eyes still fixed on the target, and Johanna heaves a chiding little sigh, her arms folded over her chest.
"Don't you have any manners? You ask a girl before you take her other axe." And there's no more helpful teacher routine, now that the flirting is done. Johanna just stands in critical observance, her mouth pinched at once side in a smirk.
"Come on, Katie. Impress me."
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Kate retorts without turning, focused on the target and the axe in her hand which she is definitely not putting back down. She does roll her eyes, just in case Johanna thinks she cares about impressing her. She kinda does, but mostly she just dislikes not being excellent. Also being called Katie.
Her next throw still isn't the perfection she'd prefer, but it's closer. It would be a bullseye if it were a couple feet higher, but at least this one makes the edge of the target. She doesn't say anything but her nose and lip twitch into a suggestion of a frown and she heads down the lane to retrieve the axes without waiting for Johanna's commentary.
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And just because Kate's not waiting for her commentary doesn't mean she won't offer it. As her new friend strides away, Johanna calls after her: "Not as easy as archery, is it? But you'll get it. Keep trying."
That might almost be interpreted as encouragement, except for the heavy mockery that shades her tone. Oh well.
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She laughs as she gets to the targets, rocking the axe handles back and forth a couple times until the heads come free. "This is so much easier than archery. It's harder than darts?" You know, if that makes Johanna feel better. She shrugs as she walks back, returning to the rough throw line they've been working with. Two more tosses, each closer than the last. She hasn't quite got the proper elbow angle down yet but she's getting there.
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But really: who is Johanna Mason, except Johanna.
Anyways, Kate is still fun to watch. Johanna's not wandering off any time soon, and not just because Kate's got her axes. After the second toss, Johanna cocks her right eyebrow, just a little, her mouth still pinched in that smirk.
"So you're a good archer... and this is easier than archery." She draws an invisible line between the two points, in mid-air. "Does that mean you suck at archery, because you suck at this."
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