"Nope. I don't let students do anything. If you don't do the move right, you don't get the results. Soft pedalling is setting you up to fail later, and that's something I won't do." His tone is not harsh but definitely serious.
Ivanova raises an eyebrow at such a serious answer to her light-hearted question. "An admirable man, Mr. MacLeod." She grinned. "Anything else you can show me?"
Now that she wasn't sick or bone-tired, she was . . . frighteningly perky.
Wide grin. "I'm sure I can think of more sneaky things..." He thinks a moment then demonstrates a three move combination slowly, then quickly. The sort of thing to set your opponent up in the first two moves if they react instead of planning and then get them in the third move. "Your turn..."
With narrowed eyes, Ivanova tried to follow. She got the first two moves, but slipped on the last and ended up on her back. She rolled to her feet, shaking it off. "Let me try it again," she said pugnaciously.
Ivanova paused before she tried the move. If Duncan knew her, he might be a little worried at the expression on her face. She moved the combination, but finished it off with a twist that she had picked up from Marcus. A rather painful twist, if she had done it correctly.
She grins at him. "Thanks. I picked it up from the Anla-shok - the Rangers, to us humans." She notices him shake his arm, and asks, concerned, "I didn't hurt you, did I? Too badly, at least?"
"Most of them aren't bad," she replies. "I'm working on getting my hands on a particular weapon they use - this staff that expands from about this big," she holds her hands about five inches apart. "They manage to do some serious damage with it. I'm hoping for a care package."
Ivanova held up her hands. "Strictly as an observer. To be honest, I'm not much good with a knife, either. Hand-to-hand or ranged weapons for me. And most of my hand-to-hand experience comes from some rather interesting parties."
Re: Drills, then sparring
Re: Drills, then sparring
Re: Drills, then sparring
Re: Drills, then sparring
Now that she wasn't sick or bone-tired, she was . . . frighteningly perky.
Re: Drills, then sparring
Re: Drills, then sparring
Re: Drills, then sparring
Re: Drills, then sparring
Re: Drills, then sparring
Re: Drills, then sparring
Re: Drills, then sparring
Re: Drills, then sparring
Re: Drills, then sparring
Re: Drills, then sparring