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Tris' POV
Tobias walks over, uncertain of himself, though I'm not sure why- he's almost in Dauntless-shape.
He stands near me- but certainly far enough for an Abnegation. "Okay," I say, "I need to see you do some strength stuff first- that's important, and then I'll show you some fighting stuff." I haven't actually had to train any initiates yet, though that will be my job next fall as well as being a bodyguard. He looks at me with the respect so commonly given in his faction. I think of the Dauntless- how you have to earn respect.
I wonder if he will earn mine.
"Push-ups," I say quietly. He nods and forms a plank with his body. He begins to do several push-ups. They seem easy for him- and I wonder why he didn't revolt against his father. He's strong enough. He continues on… and on- without pause- without trouble.
"Um- okay," I say. He stops and sits on his knees. "You need more weight." I think of the backpacks we wear for push- ups in Dauntless- but I don't have those here. Guys like Tobias wear backpacks that are my weight or more… my weight.
"I'm going to sit on your back and I want you to try some like that. Is that okay?" I ask, knowing plenty about the whole physical-touch thing with the Abnegation. I still have a trace of it in myself, though Christina is a very huggy person.
He nods and swallows, once again in a plank position. I sit on his back like a bench, but his arms remain firm underneath him. I lightly touch my feet to the ground to maintain my balance. "Okay," I say- a tight word- I wish my voice didn't sound so Abnegation-y.
He begins to do push-ups. I feel the muscles in his back expand and contracting, and I find myself admiring his strength- though I'm also slightly jealous. Being small isn't always helpful when it comes to the physical stuff in Dauntless.
He continues for a several reps, before I begin to feel him slightly shaking under my weight.
"That's good," I say quietly, when he begins shaking a little too much for my liking. I stand up off of him, and he stands up quickly.
I make him do several sit ups and a few other strength training exercises- he excels at them all.
"Okay," I say, now that he's warmed up and slightly tired. The sweat glistens on his neck, and seeps a bit through his thin t-shirt.
"Time for the fighting," I say, and he looks down at me, dark eyes glistening in a subdued strength. I suddenly feel that although he's been tortured- he's never shed a tear, or shown any weakness.
Maybe I'm wrong.
But maybe I'm right.
"Okay," he says, looking down at his hands as if the idea of making a fist is a foreign idea.
Hey! I know this was a short chapter but please please please review! It would really help! Thanks for reading!