[attr="class","beck"]he's expecting a punch, a kick, anything else but the shove she does the moment she catches his leg. he simply falls back, hits the ground, and rolls right back up.

he supposes he should have been more clear.

"hit me, briarwood."

[attr="class","noodles"]Alexandra Briarwood

There’s visible disdain in the thought of hitting him manifested in the way she curls her lips into a scowl. It’s not that she hasn’t hit people, Theo watched her strike Rowan Wrynn, she just doesn’t want to. She is fighting every instinct in her being that tells her to run by picking a fight.

“Fine,” she inches closer, with her fists raised, considering an approach. Just got for it, yeah? She steps forward with a quick right jab to left side of Theo’s face.

THEO BECKETT

[attr="class","beck"]she fights southpaw; so he shifts to do the same, mirroring. it makes leaning back to slip her jab a bit easier. surprisingly, he doesn't throw one in return.

"again."

[attr="class","noodles"]Alexandra Briarwood

Lex isn’t surprised he easily slips away from the jab. She hadn’t put much effort into it. Alright, time to try a different strategy. She thinks for a moment before stepping forward with another right jab followed by a swift left hook to meet his side if he slips past the jab again.

THEO BECKETT

[attr="class","beck"]he does slip past the jab again but this time there's a left hook that follows that manages to catch him where it hurts. her fist jabs into his side, knocking the wind out of him.

he snaps a hand out to grab at her wrist, leaving him vulnerable to a counter hook.

[attr="class","noodles"]Alexandra Briarwood

The strike hits but she’s quickly put in another predicament. She doesn’t recognize the opening to strike with another hook as the strong grip curls around her wrist. A subtle panic sets in and she twists her arms in an attempt to loosen his grip enough to free her wrist of his hold.

THEO BECKETT

[attr="class","beck"]she twists only for him to immediately tighten his grip, forcing her to stay in place. his expression thins, darkens, and he finds himself curling his other hand into a fist.

"hit me."

with her wrist still in his grip, he bends his arm and throws an elbow across her face.

[attr="class","noodles"]Alexandra Briarwood

“Ah!” she winces under the tightened grip. Her escape attempt failed, and now she finds herself trapped. A mild panic sets in, even more so when sis expression turns dark. Fuck.

“Fuck!” she grunts painfully after the elbow firmly drives into her cheek. That would bruise – at least it was on her terms. The small spark of frustration ignites and her right fist raises and hooks towards his face in one quick motion.

THEO BECKETT

[attr="class","beck"]he clenches his jaw, bites down hard to lessen the severity of her fist against his cheek. his grip tightens as a result, unwilling to let her slip out after such a simple punch. she'll have to do better.

and he'll force it out of her if he has to.

his head snaps back along with a hook that aims for her face once more.

[attr="class","noodles"]Alexandra Briarwood

The punch hits, but the hold on her wrist remains unforgiving. Still trapped, it’s infuriating. Frustration threatens to boil over. She attempts to lean back to avoid the hook but his grip on her arm is impedes her ability to dodge. The hook strikes harder than the elbow, rattling teeth and cutting the inside of her cheek against them. The taste of blood on her tongue is foreign. She’s too dazed to say much, only snaps a glare back at Theo. He wants more. The fist shoots out again with another hook, more powerful this time. It’s followed quickly by another, and another, until he lets go or finds an opening to strike her back.

THEO BECKETT

[attr="class","beck"]finally.

she throws a hook, catching him across his jaw. and again. and again. her wrist slips out of his grip as he stumbles back. his foot catches his weight, and he's shifting forward with both hands to shove her back, separating.

[attr="class","noodles"]Alexandra Briarwood

Every time a punch strikes, she prays he’ll let go. She hates this, hate’s punching him. She shouldn’t, she doesn’t feel much towards the man. Indifference at most, perhaps some resentment now. She stops as soon as she feel his grip slip from her wrist. A quick shove pushes her back and creates space. She’s grateful. She takes it further with another step back to shake out her hands. There’s an ache in her knuckles she doesn’t recognize. Her fingers flex and extend, but she doesn’t take her eyes off him. He’s a predator, she’s prey. He’d strike as soon as the opportunity arises.

THEO BECKETT

[attr="class","beck"]where he expects her to advance, she does the opposite, and though his natural instinct is to close the distance, he stands his ground, too.

his gaze holds even as he drops his arms, shifting out of a stance.

"why aren't you throwing?"

[attr="class","noodles"]Alexandra Briarwood