[The assertion that it sounds familiar to him gets a cant of her head a shine to her eyes that's as clear a question as his had been, though she's willing to let it end there, too. Interested, but not quite pushing, willing to let this lapse back into what it had been before. That easy silence that felt like a kind of understanding, where sparring was always easier than words. At the question she sighs, shrugs her shoulders a little.
What she really means is no, but that's not what she says. It does help, being able to spar against him, to push herself, to have a gauge as she pushes herself to do better. Even if it's only a little, she decides to try not to deny that, even if it's almost a kneejerk. What she really means but can't bring herself to say is that it doesn't help enough, but Wash is smart, and she figures he can see between the lines.
That she wouldn't push herself quite as far as she does if she could see how it comes together, see the payoff. There might not be that outright desperation that tinges it all. Because it's more than just her physical ability, it's her senses, her reaction times and all these little things that add up to the fact that she feels weak in a way she never has before. She has to relearn her limitations, adjust her skills to fit.]
A little. It helps with the focus, at least.
[She hates the way she feels, but sparring with Wash is good. It's a point of normalcy. He's good, and she'd have enjoyed sparring with him even before, back home, impossible as the thought is. Then all at once it's just not enough. Too many words, or too many things given away and while she doesn't entirely pull away, she shifts on her feet, looks at him with a lift of an eyebrow and a twist of her lips.]
Want to find out?
[She caps her water bottle, even if she's been ignoring it for the past several minutes. She wasn't so much unwilling to keep playing their game as she just. The more they talked, the more it built up this tension, and hitting something was easier because there were so many pieces she wasn't giving, so much anger about all of it. Men with plans and perfect soldiers. Memory.]
no subject
What she really means is no, but that's not what she says. It does help, being able to spar against him, to push herself, to have a gauge as she pushes herself to do better. Even if it's only a little, she decides to try not to deny that, even if it's almost a kneejerk. What she really means but can't bring herself to say is that it doesn't help enough, but Wash is smart, and she figures he can see between the lines.
That she wouldn't push herself quite as far as she does if she could see how it comes together, see the payoff. There might not be that outright desperation that tinges it all. Because it's more than just her physical ability, it's her senses, her reaction times and all these little things that add up to the fact that she feels weak in a way she never has before. She has to relearn her limitations, adjust her skills to fit.]
A little. It helps with the focus, at least.
[She hates the way she feels, but sparring with Wash is good. It's a point of normalcy. He's good, and she'd have enjoyed sparring with him even before, back home, impossible as the thought is. Then all at once it's just not enough. Too many words, or too many things given away and while she doesn't entirely pull away, she shifts on her feet, looks at him with a lift of an eyebrow and a twist of her lips.]
Want to find out?
[She caps her water bottle, even if she's been ignoring it for the past several minutes. She wasn't so much unwilling to keep playing their game as she just. The more they talked, the more it built up this tension, and hitting something was easier because there were so many pieces she wasn't giving, so much anger about all of it. Men with plans and perfect soldiers. Memory.]