Liam
I just want one more chance
Liam watched as Flora followed his instruction - to a point. The young woman adjusted her feet, but balked at the idea of getting her hands up. Understandable, really - he'd wondered the same thing in his youth, when he'd first started training. "Builds good habits," he told her, adjusting to better hold the punching bag. "The bag might not hit back, but a person would. And you want to have muscle memory to protect your head when that happens." He offered a crooked sort of grin, hoping to bring her out of whatever rage she seemed to be in, even if only a little. "Ask me how I know."
Flora continued to punch, and Liam continued to brace the bag. One particularly sharp jab earned a quiet, "Good," but he otherwise remained quiet. Whatever Flora was working through, she clearly didn't need too much input from him.
After a few more minutes, Liam motioned for her to pause. "How are you with a moving target?" he asked. He moved away from the bag. "Aim for my hands," he said, clapping his palms together before holding them at face height. "Try not to miss." It might hurt his bare hands, but he could take it - especially if it meant helping Flora to blow off some steam. If she complied, he'd move his hands with each blow - high, near his face; middle, near chest-height; and low, by his hips, always moving, forcing her to concentrate more on the movement and (hopefully) not punching him in the face.
Flora continued to punch, and Liam continued to brace the bag. One particularly sharp jab earned a quiet, "Good," but he otherwise remained quiet. Whatever Flora was working through, she clearly didn't need too much input from him.
After a few more minutes, Liam motioned for her to pause. "How are you with a moving target?" he asked. He moved away from the bag. "Aim for my hands," he said, clapping his palms together before holding them at face height. "Try not to miss." It might hurt his bare hands, but he could take it - especially if it meant helping Flora to blow off some steam. If she complied, he'd move his hands with each blow - high, near his face; middle, near chest-height; and low, by his hips, always moving, forcing her to concentrate more on the movement and (hopefully) not punching him in the face.
To put my arms in fragile hands
Table inspired by the lovely Skylark <3
