Rule# 17 "Take the cheap shots if it means you're the one that walks away."
There was air of seriousness around them, a tension between them as they stared at each other. She shifted and he moved in kind, a little slower and more uncertain than her.
"I don't know much about fighting," she began slowly, licking her lips. "What I do know is how to hurt someone, how to make them let go so I can get away. So, that's what I'm gonna teach you: how to escape. Ready?"
He nodded, tensing as she moved, and before he could blink she had him trapped, arms pulled behind him and a knee digging into his back.
"Now, get away from me!" She ordered. He tried, but every wiggle and squirm only made things worse.
"Stop!" She yelled and he stilled. She let go and stepped back, giving him room to relax and rub his throbbing shoulders. "You're being too gentle. Stop worrying about hurting me. If I was anyone else you'd be dead right now."
He paled and she sat down, one hand on his shoulder.
"New rule: take the cheap shots, fight dirty, do whatever it takes to get away and stay alive. Be the one that walks away, got it?"
"Got it."
She smiled slightly.
"Doesn't mean I want you pulling a knife on me in practice, though," she teased.
"You have a knife?"
"What makes you say that?' She asked, tugging at her hat. He squinted at her.
"You do have a knife!" He shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "Can I have one? Please! Please. Pleeeaaassse!"
"Stop yelling!" She shouted, covering her ears. "Sheesh! I'm not even going to show you a knife until you've learned how to get out of hold."
"Aww man!"