"Ms. Fiorelli," Zev responded in greeting as Elisabeth passed him, likewise tipping his head at her. It was odd to see her dressed so casually, her tight-fitting crop top and leggings a sharp contrast to the chic business suit she had worn during their last meeting. He supposed she must think the same of him, though.

He watched her begin jumping rope for a few seconds before returning to his own devices, taking a moment to drink from his water bottle before resuming his boxing practice.

Zev was surprised to find the proximity of her presence comfortable, their shared silence broken only by his grunts and panting and the swish of her rope. He noted in the back of his head when Elisabeth stopped jumping but paid it no heed, not until she spoke up. Zev relaxed out of his fighting stance and regarded her curiously.

"They don't hate me nearly as some of my opponents did, back in the cage," he replied with a laugh. Then he paused, considering Elisabeth's comment.

"You should try a fighting style that focuses on kicks," he said at last. His tone was practical, without any trace of judgment. "Women typically have lower centers of gravity and don't develop the same levels of upper body strength as men, but we're often equal in terms of leg strength. Kicks suit women better."

Elisabeth Fiorelli

NOTES
+ Social

Elisabeth's explanation made sense. Though she was of average height for a woman, she was slender, her frame delicate. Zev did not see any considerable muscle on her physique, which aligned with her upbringing — what he had researched about it, anyway. Fleeing was her best option in most scenarios. But inevitably, as a high-ranking Rocket, she would find herself in one where she'd have to stand her ground. Possibly without her Pokémon.

"You're right, it doesn't," Zev confirmed with a nod. "But even if there's a chance to escape, knowing some self-defense wouldn't hurt. If someone grabs you or pins you down, you should know how to extract yourself from a grapple."

Then he matched her grin.

"Something tells me you're not the kind of woman who's satisfied unless she has the upper hand, Elisabeth."

Elisabeth Fiorelli

NOTES
+ Social

Years had passed since Zev had taught hand-to-hand combat to another person, let alone been part of any instruction. Could he teach Elisabeth? Maybe. It depended on whether she took well to his method. Fortunately, there was plenty of open mat space for sparring next to the punching bags and dummies. He walked toward the middle of one such mat, soft enough to provide some cushion for falls.

"Sure, but don't expect me to go easy on you," Zev said, smirking. "I recommend taking off your ring, though, just in case. We don't want anything terrible to happen, do we?"

He waited until she joined him on the mat before he fell into a common fighting stance, most of his weight on his back leg. He kept his arms relaxed at his side, however.

"You want a wide, strong stance, generally," Zev explained, shifting once again to a pragmatic tone, his smile momentarily fading. "An opponent can knock you down more easily if you keep your feet together, or if you're not rooted properly."

He patted his bare chest. The smirk returned.

"Come on. See if you can get me on the ground."

Elisabeth Fiorelli

NOTES
+ Social

Elisabeth gave herself away too easily.

Zev kept the enigmatic smirk plastered on his face as she lunged, raising a fist in an amateur punch. But her eyes dropped again to his closer foot. With an economy of motion born from almost two decades of fighting, he seized the collar of her thin top with both hands a half-second before she attempted to sweep his foot out from under him.

Then he let himself fall, and he took her down with him.

They landed with a dull smack on the mat, Elisabeth on top. Zev moved instinctively, his muscle memory activating. He twisted and flipped them, shoving her onto her back and locking her in a grapple that he knew she wasn't strong or skilled enough to break out of. His smile hovered inches above her face.

"Good job. The leg sweep was smart," Zev said, a mix of amusement and praise underscoring his words. "But your glances told me everything."

He let that lesson sink in before releasing his hold on her. Standing, he reached out a hand to help her up.

Elisabeth Fiorelli

NOTES
+ Social

Zev eyed her with lingering amusement before drawing up behind Elisabeth and placing one hand on her mid-back.

"Don't slouch," he murmured, his mouth close to her ear. He pressed lightly on her back to emphasize his point. Then he gripped her shoulders with both hands and turned her upper body so that she faced forward more. "Make sure your shoulders and pelvis are stacked on top of each other. And tense your abdominal muscles slightly. This will help you maintain a stronger defense."

His hands slid down her arms to her elbows. "Chin down and hands up. Your rear arm should stay close to your body, like this." Guiding her by that elbow, he positioned her arm just so. "On the other hand, your lead arm should be more forward, but not too much. It's your first line of both defense and offense and will protect your chest and ribs." He moved that arm as well into position.

Then he stepped back and checked her legs and feet. "Make sure your knees and feet are facing the same direction, at this angle." He showed her by falling into the same stance next to her. "And pick up your heels. You don't want to be caught flatfooted. That will only slow you down."

Finally, Zev moved away to face Elisabeth on the mat. He assumed the same stance again, though he kept his arms loose at his sides.

"Throw the same punch as before, but this time, the movement needs to start in your back foot," he instructed her. "Push against the ground with the ball of your foot and allow the energy produced to pivot your body and snap your arm forward. A quick strike with a shallow arc of movement."

Grinning once more, Zev raised his hands and gave her the universal 'come at me' gesture. "One more time, Elisabeth."

Elisabeth Fiorelli

NOTES
+ Social

That second punch was much better than the first. Nevertheless, it was still amateur, without the appropriate force behind it to cause Zev any concern. Before Elisabeth's strike could land, he snapped out a hand and caught her fist, holding it in place with a strength she could not fight.

"Better!" Zev praised her, and this time, there was a glint in his eye and a crookedness to his grin, like something fierce within him had awakened at her attack. A battle lust.

He moved with an alacrity born from second nature, stepping into her range, twisting, and lowering his body so that his shoulder tucked under her outstretched arm, his back pushed against her chest. Then he lifted her completely off the floor and threw her over his shoulder onto the mat. The momentum brought him to his knee next to her so that he loomed over her again.

And then he stood up and held out his hand to help her up. "Again."

And so they danced together, filling the empty exercise hall with the sounds of exertion. They paused every so often — to catch their breath, drink water, or for him to teach her something new. Elisabeth improved with every round, yet her greenness was still evident in her slowness and softness. Zev was patient, though — more patient than he thought he could be. Perhaps her determination amused him. Or perhaps it was simply the sight of a very unlikely woman grappling with him, her skin slick with sweat from the effort of learning something arduous. Who would have thought delicate florist Elisabeth Fiorelli could be so fierce in a spar — or monstrous with a victim, for that matter?

Eventually, Zev called the exercise to an end. Elisabeth looked ready to pass out. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a towel he'd brought and sat down heavily on a bench. "Not bad today," he said, meaning it. "You'll need to practice more, but I think you have a solid grasp of the basics."

Elisabeth Fiorelli

NOTES
+ Social