Catalina turned her head slightly as she spun on her toes, arms moving as if she was drawing a bow, and even if she wasn't as aware of people around her as he was, she knew the moment Clint walked into the training room. After a few moments of watching her move, Clint realized what she was doing. Ballet. The dance moves translating into fighting stances, and even if they were rough, there was something to work with there.
"Good morning." Catalina said glancing at up him as he stepped into the room before stopping and turning to face him, flushed and ready to work.
"Continue." Clint ordered simply when she paused, not looking at her as he headed towards the small kitchenette that had been added because he spent so much time down there. "I haven't had my coffee yet and don't desire to see your face until I do." His voice was flat, he wasn't angry with her, he sounded tired – defeated. Which meant he'd dreamed of Natasha again last night, and while the girl looked, sounded, and acted nothing like Natasha, training her as he'd trained his best friend hurt.
"Oh, you're pleasant in the morning. Why don't you go get your coffee so you're fit to be with?" Catalina said snarkily, but her tone was gentle, not angry. Just like she knew he wasn't angry with her, she was willing not to question him on how he was, even if she knew he hadn't slept well. Everyone knew Clint Barton didn't sleep well anymore, but unlike some of the others, she was willing to overlook it unless it became unbearable. It wasn't cowardly or meek not wanting to piss him off, but because she had to work with him, and she'd rather have a relationship they could work together in, which meant finding the middle ground.
Clint watched as she danced, leaning back against the counter, sipping his coffee. While he ignored the snarky reply, he had to admit to himself he was glad she hadn't taken his words to heart. She seemed to not really care about him; he was just a means to an end, which made working with her easier.
Whilst he'd never tell her, it was impressive to see moves he'd only seen on stage twisted into a street brawlers move. One had to have a natural talent for both, had to know exactly what they were doing in both a fight and dance.
"Bring your shoulder up." He commented suddenly as she pretended to shoot another bow. "It'll give you more power." Amusement flaring through his eyes for a moment as she jumped, knowing that he might have gotten himself shot if she'd actually been holding a bow.
"Be careful of where you plant your feet, you must always be aware of your surroundings. Battle is always accompanied by rubble, and shrapnel, a misplaced step can result in a twisted ankle or something shoved through your foot."
"Now that's a mental image. Definitely going to keep a eye on the ground." Catalina said cracking an eye to look at him for a moment before twisting through another set of complicated moves.
"You have a natural talent for such a style." Clint admitted suddenly, offering no apology for his harsh words earlier. "It's rare to see dance incorporated into a proper fighting technique, but when employed properly you'll have a fighting style that no one can copy, and will be hard to defend against."
Catalina smiled slightly, "My mother was with the dance troupe in Moscow before she married my father. I learned early to dance and when I got older, I learned to fight." For a moment pain shot through her voice before it was hidden again. "I learned quickly, that it was easy to blur the line between dance and fighting." She smiled slightly as she stopped, panting somewhat before moving over next to him to get a glass of water.
"Russian ballet?" Clint asked, curious despite himself. Natasha had loved the ballet. Swallowing thickly against the emotions that it brought up he focused on the girl standing next to him again.
"Yeah. Before she moved to New York with my father." Catalina said in an off hand way as if she really wasn't paying attention to him as she focused on cooling off.
"In any case," he cleared his throat. Brushing the thoughts off, not wanting to think about Russia, because that inevitably made him think about Natasha. "You have the endurance needed for a short length fight, but some fights can last for hours, even days." He informed her as he poured himself another mug of coffee. "Right then." He muttered as he handed her schedule.
Catalina stared at him as she sipped her water, making a face at the sight of him drinking coffee, but didn't say anything. While she hated the crap, she didn't care what anyone else drank either. Taking the schedule from him she raised an eyebrow as she read it over:
6:00 - Morning habits
6:30 - Breakfast
7:00 - Endurance training (Outdoor track )
9:00 - Sensory training (Archery room)
10:00 - Meditative exercises (Archery room)
10:30 - Free time, do whatever the hell you want
11:00 -12:00 - Lunch
12:00 - Archery practice (Archery room)
13:00 - Strength training (Weights room)
14:00 - Hand to hand training (Testing room)
16:00 - End of training. Do whatever the hell you want so long as you go to bed at a decent hour so I don't have to drag your ass out of bed in the morning
Even his schedules had scathing commentary. It was a good thing Catalina didn't care what he said to her, otherwise the two were going to have issues, but as it stood, the woman was more likely to just meet him with an equally scathing retort.
"Once you get into 'the groove' of things, we'll be adding, or removing things from your schedule. For example, I'd suggest you spend at least a hour a day staying in to practice with your dancing forms. You might even consider finding a school around here to practice." He muttered. "I don't know jack shit about dancing, so you're mostly on your own there. I can only give you a few pointers here and there."
"I'll look into that. It's New York, surely there's a dance studio around." Catalina muttered looking thoughtful.
"Now. Onto the rest of your endurance training." He smirked at the blond standing next to him, "We're going to run until 8:45. Which is another hour and a half away." He grinned as they headed into the training room across the hall that had a indoor track. "Move it rookie!"
Catalina glared, panting as she stopped, scowling at the man running backwards in front of her, having listened for the last hour to him shouting the occasional order or encouragement. Straightening up from her crouch she swept out a leg to catch his, not at all surprised when the move didn't send him tumbling to the floor. Figuring he'd known she'd lash out the moment she got a chance, she glared at the man she was starting to hate as much as she liked.
"Прошлой неделе. На прошлой неделе. Дик присоски. На прошлой неделе поесть и умирают.ублюдок, "Витебского курьера" отказали." She snarled tiredly as she rested her hands on her knees, panting. Well, at least he knew she had a good handle on Russian...at least the cuss words.
Clint smirked at the woman in front of him, lifting an eyebrow. "Well then, obviously you're not to tired, if you can cuss me out. Come along. We have more work to do." He stated as he led her back into the archery room, completely ignoring her verbal tirade. Everyone he had ever trained did that eventually; it had taken Natasha a month to work up the guts to call him a 'sadistic fuckhead', and only an hour for Frank to call him a 'fucking psychotic shit-eating bastard.' Everyone cussed at him eventually; it was a good sign that she'd started so early.
"Now, we'll work on your senses." He stated holding up the black blindfold he picked up off the table. "This is obviously, a blindfold. It'll completely cut off all visual stimuli, leaving you literally blind. You'll wear it for an hour." He said handing it over to her before picking up a bow and passing it to her. It looked like a normal bow but with Styrofoam arrows. They had wooden shafts and the normal fletching, but the tips were soft and covered in blue powder.
"Now that's either a compliment or an insult. Thinking I can hit you with a real bow, or you don't want me shooting myself in the foot with one." She mused only because she wasn't certain she was going to be able to do this even as she tied the blindfold in place.
"I'm less concerned about you shooting yourself in the foot than I am you shooting your own eye out." He stated, snorting a little. "Whilst you're blindfolded I'll be moving about the room. If you manage to hit me, you'll get a half an hour reprieve from running tomorrow. You'll still have to run, but only for an hour and ten minutes, instead an hour and forty. "He smirked at her. "But that's only IF, you can hit me."
Once he was certain the blindfold and quiver were properly in place he moved out of her 'immediate awareness' zone, which was the distance where normal people lost the ability to sense him. He had to admit as she followed him with the bow, that she showed a remarkable awareness. Although she still had while to go before she reached his level of hyperawareness. It was either a result of training or an extensive childhood trauma. Given her chosen line of work, he'd lay money on some trauma being in her background, but he didn't care, as long as she worked. He was impressed with how close some of the arrows came though as he silently moved through the room, one nearly nailing him in the hip if he hadn't moved.
Cursing as she ran out of arrows without finding a mark, Catalina huffed out a sigh before she lowered the bow, turning her head this way and that, sensing the man around her. Holding the bow cross ways along her body, even without arrows the woman was using it as a defensive weapon, as if she expected him to attack her. "You're sadistic do you know that? You might want to seek help." She said shaking her head a little. While she wasn't nearly as brave as some of the others - namely Tony Stark - she also knew he didn't need coddling over Natasha's death, he'd hate it. Having dealt with other warriors, she wasn't going to treat him any different, at least until she figured out how to do so without getting him pissed, and making working together intolerable. As of now they were uncomfortable – but not horribly so.
"Why yes, I did know that, but thank you for the compliment. You're out of arrows did you know? So very easy to kill now. Helpless... You should never be without a way to defend yourself. You did at least keep hold of your bow. You can always gather arrows from the fallen, or weapons from the fallen."
"Never helpless, bow string can act like a garrote if I had to. Or the actual bow could act as a quarterstaff, they're strong enough to smack someone around with."She mused even as she turned her head, letting her body follow it around trying to keep track of him, not only by the sound of his voice but by the 'sound' of him moving around her.
"You also didn't drop any arrows, which is a damn sight better than the last two morons I had to train." He admitted still walking around, trying to distract her. "Can you believe one of them actually did manage to shoot himself in the foot?"
"That I can believe. Morons." She muttered, her voice sounding distant. Not really thinking about talking to him, not truly paying attention, as she focused on being ready for whatever else he was working up to.
"Enemies will sometimes do exactly what they do in the movies. Monologue. Where they go on and on – never shut up. This is a useful little period in time where you can start to plan your escape...or your defense. Have you prepared? No, I don't think you have."
Catalina yelped a little the bow raising as she felt a bop against her leg, scrambling back as the man was suddenly there, feeling his hip brush against hers as he bumped her off balance before he was gone again. "Too slow. You've been crippled. Focus! It's not just your hearing! You can feel me when I move, the air shifts. You can smell my soap and shampoo. You can hear my clothes as I move. Stop panicking." Clint ordered as he watched her scramble, barely avoiding it as she lashed out with the bow. While she wasn't hitting, she was actually making him work to stay away form her. "You're not helpless. You can't see, but you have other senses. You have a weapon, you always do. Your hands are deadly, your teeth can injure, use your body. Don't let me in close." He ordered giving her a moment to focus and then he was there, hassling her. Forcing her to be aware of the world around her.
When an hour past Clint smirked as he caught her arm in his hand, squeezing a little. "Stop." He ordered quietly, waiting until she stilled before letting go and tugging the blindfold off. The lights had been dimmed considerably so she wouldn't hurt her eyes. "Well at least you didn't shoot yourself."
Catalina blinked slowly, wincing even in the dim light. "But I didn't do great either." She said in response to his comment, looking annoyed with herself as much as she was with him.
"No, you didn't do great, but then, you've never fought blind either." He pointed out looking her over, holding up what he'd been batting her with – one of her practice arrows. Looking as close to laughter as he had been in months Clint looked over his chalk dusted trainee.
Tilting her head to concede the point she thought for a moment, remembering her schedule, "Now. I'm going over there and mediating on how I'm going to cause you some bodily and embarrassing harm and relax. Unless you have some other plans for your mediation time in the schedule?" She asked as she crossed the room to sit on the floor, looking comfortable and at ease despite being covered in chalk and looking sulky.
"Go for it. Mediate on whatever the hell you want. It's a cool down period where you can think about whatever you want. Later on I might give you specific things to mediate on. For now, just mediate on how you want to kick my ass." He ordered looking amused as he watched her for a moment before starting his own workout.
"I hear you're training the new archer?" Tony Stark said as he stepped out onto the balcony, a thread of concern in his voice despite the amusement showing on his face as he studied the man leaning against the railing. Whilst the billionaire was an arrogant ass, with forming the Avengers Clint had been accepted into the small group of people Tony actually cared for. And looking at his friend made Tony curse Fury for being a bastard and forcing Clint to train another woman as he had once trained Natasha. Having come to check on the man as soon as JARVIS had told him Clint was back in the tower, he wanted to know how the man was doing, and hoping the girl was strong enough to deal with Hawkeye.
Clint tilted his head slightly to look at the billionaire. Glad despite the man's attitude sometimes that he'd allowed him to move in. He couldn't bring himself to go home, because Natasha had lived with him. "Yea. She's not bad, needs lot of work though." Clint admitted, his voice listless and dull, because he knew the man wouldn't rat him out. Tony didn't care; Clint could trust Tony not to chastise him for being depressed.
"Well, you're good at getting the idiots to survive their training, I'm sure she'll be fine." Tony smirked a little, his eyebrows going up. "Is she as pretty as they say?" Tony asked, focusing on what he cared about, besides his friend. Since he knew Clint wouldn't want him to ask about how he was handling it he was going to ask what everyone expected him to care about, on how to get the new girl into bed.
"I don't know, didn't notice." Clint snorted a little, frowning as he tried to remember. Was she pretty? He supposed it didn't matter; it wasn't like she was going to be meeting Tony anytime soon. "Where's Cap tonight?"
"Avoiding you since you nearly killed him for taking your alcohol." Tony said simply before sighing quietly.
"Ah. Tell him I'm sorry will you? I was already pretty drunk." Clint said fidgeting a little as Tony nodded. People had always made him nervous, and without Natasha acting like a buffer, even people he liked made him skittish and unsure.
"I have a date with Pepper tonight... You want company?" Tony asked, willing to stay in for once if Clint wanted him to, but also willing to leave him alone. Like Catalina, the man had learned to bend to what Clint wanted him to do, because he wanted Clint to stay here, because he was afraid if he pushed, that the man would leave.
"No. I'm just going to get some sleep." Clint said waving Tony off, "Maybe smoke a few cigarettes in the bath." He muttered smirking. Well aware that Tony hated it when he smoked inside and had even gone so far as to install a specific air system to keep the smoke from 'infecting' the rest of the tower. Watching the metal man leave he smirked slightly, just thinking about what he was going to do with next.
A/N: Russian translation for everything Catalina called Clint: Asshole. Shit sucker. Dick sucker. Eat shit and die. Bastard. Asshole. Sadist.)
