[ he throws punches, just as much as he brings down the blade of a hand, trying to redirect her own fists with the block of a forearm or the sweep of his whole arm. she glances off of old, hidden scars, a brush up against the new ones that are a mismatched of healed and healing. even without his power, he takes the brunt of hits without much concern.
although, he does startle when she pulls a more acrobatic move, stumbling to steady himself - and her. his hands go to her waist when she bops him in the chest, and it just
no subject
although, he does startle when she pulls a more acrobatic move, stumbling to steady himself - and her. his hands go to her waist when she bops him in the chest, and it just
makes him laugh. something much needed. ]