Wow, this is called... good to be back? Or should I duck and cover instead? Heh... no, I don't know where this plot bunny turned up, or why it's not for Bleach (where I'm supposed to be writing), but I guess I needed a break. Hope I managed to do justice to everyone after my very, very long sabbatical!
FIGHTING DIRTY
The first thing he became aware of was a throbbing ache in his chest.
Blinking rapidly, he managed to get the steel-girdered, white-painted ceiling into focus a moment before Rachel's amused face appeared in his line of vision, flushed from exertion and damp with sweat.
"Jeez, Hood, I didn't even hit you that hard."
"You may not have," he grumbled, pushing himself up on his elbows and trying to ignore the resultant twinges in his back, "but the mat certainly did. Have you got steel rods in your feet or something?"
"Wuss," Rachel snorted, holding out one boxing-gloved hand for Hood. He took it awkwardly in both of his, but cast a mutely pleading glance to beside the ring, where Felix was doing his own sparring against a punching bag.
"Hey, don't look at me, Doc. I'm not stupid enough to get in the ring with her."
"Lot of help you are," Jacob muttered sourly, and allowed Rachel to haul him back to his feet - then leaped backwards to avoid an elbow to the groin. "Hey! That's cheating, Rachel!"
"Which is why I'm on this side of the ropes," Felix muttered, and netted himself a glare from both of them. Raising his gloved hands in surrender, Felix quickly backed away, mumbling vaguely about hitting the showers.
Rachel watched his retreating form with narrowed eyes until the door to the locker rooms shut behind him, leaving the pair of them alone in the gym. Once it did, she turned back to Hood and spread her arms slightly.
"Look at me, Hood. Pretend you've never met me before, and just look. What do you see?"
He knew what she was getting at - the same erroneous conclusions he'd drawn, the first time he'd seen her outside Frank's office. Tiny and blonde and more suited to being someone's pampered secretary than being a field agent - or so he'd thought at the time. Stupid of him, really, to judge so much by appearances. He'd begun reevaluating those assumptions a few minutes later - when she'd shaken his hand and tried her damndest to break every one of his fingers in doing so - and he hadn't stopped reevaluating to this day.
"Predators look at people like me, Hood, and they see a victim. I'm five-foot-six and barely a hundred and twenty pounds. You've got six inches and fifty pounds on me, easily -"
"Was that a poke at my weight?"
Snorting in exasperation, Rachel shot him a narrow-eyed glare from under her eyebrows, and continued. "From a purely statistical standpoint, you have all the advantages." Staring up at him, eyes serious, she added simply, "Sometimes, for people like me, Hood, a fighting chance means fighting dirty."
"Is that so?" he murmured back, tone speculative. Before Rachel could really consider what that implied, he had dropped back to the mat and knocked her feet out from under her with a sweeping kick, sending her sprawling onto the mat with an indignant yelp.
"Hood, what the hell?"
"Well," he answered cheerfully as they both sat up, she fuming and he smirking, "I was fighting an opponent who had a clear advantage, and took my handler's excellent advice."
"That is not," Rachel growled, swiping hair out of her face, "what I meant."
"Of course not," he agreed, holding out his hands to her, so that they could help one another up. "But at least this way, we've both got a fighting chance."
O
A fast internet search does actually turn Mr. Sewell's weight up at 78 kg, which translates to around 171 lbs. For those interested, he's also an even six feet, while Marley Shelton is five-six and a half. Her weight was guesstimated against my own, since I couldn't find it in a round of Googling.
