(no subject)
It wasn't that training was hard - not any more then usual, anyhow. Jill was sweating, working. Sparring with Tim, right this second. She'd meditated and stretched and run- did all the things she did every morning. But today, Tim was pushing her harder then usual, and it was starting to wear on her.
And the words slipped out, without her thinking. "That hurt-" She wasn't usually one to complain, and it startled her enough that she shifted her weight incorrectly, seconds away from twisting her ankle.
Because she didn't usually complain, he backed off, eyebrow going up, studying her carefully. "Something I don't know about?" She wasn't working that much harder than she usually would have been, but if she'd sustained some kind of strain that he didn't know about he wasn't about to continue on aggravating it. They would train on working around it instead.
She dropped rather then letting the muscles pull, rolling to her feet seconds later. She shook her head, her brows knit... even as her mouth didn't cooperate. "Lots of things. There's no way you'd know about everything, and you seem occupied, lately."
"Pertaining to why you can't train properly," Tim clarified a bit shortly.
"No, it's not any different then usual." Jill shrugged. "It hurts. I deal with it." Her brows knit for a moment, before she shrugged it off. "Run through it again?"
Tim frowned and then adjusted, ready to run through it again. "Go." He gave her no more warning than that, paying more attention to her movements this time around, testing her with a series of moves that would show him her range.
It was the same as usual- the low ache of bruises over bruises, but she'd gotten used to it. She still shifted, dropping down to swing her leg out to (even though he'd dodge, she knew) knock his feet out from under him. "Damnit- I wish you wouldn't-" She managed to stop herself from talking, but it was a close thing - and especially odd, since she usually didn't talk while they were doing this. She had other things to think about.
He flipped over her head, "Why so chatty?"
She spun, rising to her feet as he landed behind her. "Because I have things to say." She shifted her weight, ready for the blow she knew would be coming. "But I don't know why I'm saying them. I usually don't bother. I don't think that what I have to say would make a difference in anything."
"What is it that you have to say?" He aim a kick squarely at her head.
She shifted down - easier then back, less energy. "All sorts of things. That what we do hurts. That you should be more social, and-" She threw out a punch, taking a chance. "And not just with Bart. That we're not- That we need to do more disaster training then just fighting-" The words just kept coming. "Situational things. Something so that people-" Shift. "Listen." She didn't think he'd particularly care or listen; Tim seemed to know his own way of doing things. "You should relax, and Bart's too tense. You both worry too much, and that's saying something, if it's coming from me of all people." She wasn't done talking, she just was continuing, the words falling out of her mouth.
It was a loaded question, when she couldn't stop herself from talking.
Tim was silent, moving with the spar, letting her babble herself out, dodging punches and yanking her forward in a dead simple throw. A great deal of what she was saying had occurred to him as well and he had some ideas in that directions. That she saw it meant that his options were greater than they had been and gave him a few more links in his plans.
The thing was, it was scaring her now. She couldn't not talk, and when he yanked her forward, she let him - managing to override the continuing litany with, "Stop. Robin-" She apparently had a lot to say, but whatever it was that was pushing her to talking was satisfied. For the moment.
"I think something's wrong."
He let go, frowned, "What color is my shirt?" He was wearing a black tank-top, rarely suiting up for any training session unless it was against someone who could conceivably do significant damage. Clothes were far easier to clean.
She stared at him like he was crazy. "... Black?"
"Tell me that it's pink." Inability to not answer questions, unexpected honesty in situation where you'd normally have remained silent? He suspected that it didn't take training with the World Greatest Detective to piece this one together. The only anomaly was that it was happening twice in one month. That wasn't usual behavior for the island.
"But it's not pink. It's black. I mean, saying 'Your shirt is p..." She stopped. "Your shirt is p...b...black." She tried again, with similar results.
"Hm." He didn't smile. It wasn't funny, not even remotely. "I think you'd better go shower and change. You're in for a long weekend."
"A long weekend?" She paused, and her mouth slipped open. "... It's... it's that thing, isn't it. That truth thing."
"That's my guess. I'll give you a few hours to get used to it. Then I'll need you back here. We still have a lot of work to do." Tim checked his watch.
"It's not going to change, is it? I mean, I'm not going to suddenly get better in the next hour? It's pointless for me to go, cool down, shower, and then come back. I would just sit and worry anyway."
Tim eyed her for a moment then shrugged, "Do what you like. How are you feeling right now?"
"Scared, and kind of annoyed at you." She winced, and looked down. "I meant that, but I'm sorry I said it."
"I expected that. I'm not offended." It would take a lot more than that to upset him. He'd been through this and he didn't expect anything terrible pleasant to be revealed. He accepted that. "I'm not going to cater to this. I told you when it was me, I'd take advantage of it if I needed to."
"I know. You and I aren't alike. That's why we balance each other." She rubbed her hand over her face. "I just don't want to go and be home. I mean, I obviously can't go to work - one 'what do you think' would doom me for life." She shook her head before shrugging. "Training is still on the table, right?"
"Discussion of team dynamics. You're going to be honest with me, I want to know how you think the team is working. The things you don't tell me because you're too polite or English to tell me." He folded his arms. Tim didn't need to remind her that he'd given her a chance for a reprieve. She would only get one.
And the words slipped out, without her thinking. "That hurt-" She wasn't usually one to complain, and it startled her enough that she shifted her weight incorrectly, seconds away from twisting her ankle.
Because she didn't usually complain, he backed off, eyebrow going up, studying her carefully. "Something I don't know about?" She wasn't working that much harder than she usually would have been, but if she'd sustained some kind of strain that he didn't know about he wasn't about to continue on aggravating it. They would train on working around it instead.
She dropped rather then letting the muscles pull, rolling to her feet seconds later. She shook her head, her brows knit... even as her mouth didn't cooperate. "Lots of things. There's no way you'd know about everything, and you seem occupied, lately."
"Pertaining to why you can't train properly," Tim clarified a bit shortly.
"No, it's not any different then usual." Jill shrugged. "It hurts. I deal with it." Her brows knit for a moment, before she shrugged it off. "Run through it again?"
Tim frowned and then adjusted, ready to run through it again. "Go." He gave her no more warning than that, paying more attention to her movements this time around, testing her with a series of moves that would show him her range.
It was the same as usual- the low ache of bruises over bruises, but she'd gotten used to it. She still shifted, dropping down to swing her leg out to (even though he'd dodge, she knew) knock his feet out from under him. "Damnit- I wish you wouldn't-" She managed to stop herself from talking, but it was a close thing - and especially odd, since she usually didn't talk while they were doing this. She had other things to think about.
He flipped over her head, "Why so chatty?"
She spun, rising to her feet as he landed behind her. "Because I have things to say." She shifted her weight, ready for the blow she knew would be coming. "But I don't know why I'm saying them. I usually don't bother. I don't think that what I have to say would make a difference in anything."
"What is it that you have to say?" He aim a kick squarely at her head.
She shifted down - easier then back, less energy. "All sorts of things. That what we do hurts. That you should be more social, and-" She threw out a punch, taking a chance. "And not just with Bart. That we're not- That we need to do more disaster training then just fighting-" The words just kept coming. "Situational things. Something so that people-" Shift. "Listen." She didn't think he'd particularly care or listen; Tim seemed to know his own way of doing things. "You should relax, and Bart's too tense. You both worry too much, and that's saying something, if it's coming from me of all people." She wasn't done talking, she just was continuing, the words falling out of her mouth.
It was a loaded question, when she couldn't stop herself from talking.
Tim was silent, moving with the spar, letting her babble herself out, dodging punches and yanking her forward in a dead simple throw. A great deal of what she was saying had occurred to him as well and he had some ideas in that directions. That she saw it meant that his options were greater than they had been and gave him a few more links in his plans.
The thing was, it was scaring her now. She couldn't not talk, and when he yanked her forward, she let him - managing to override the continuing litany with, "Stop. Robin-" She apparently had a lot to say, but whatever it was that was pushing her to talking was satisfied. For the moment.
"I think something's wrong."
He let go, frowned, "What color is my shirt?" He was wearing a black tank-top, rarely suiting up for any training session unless it was against someone who could conceivably do significant damage. Clothes were far easier to clean.
She stared at him like he was crazy. "... Black?"
"Tell me that it's pink." Inability to not answer questions, unexpected honesty in situation where you'd normally have remained silent? He suspected that it didn't take training with the World Greatest Detective to piece this one together. The only anomaly was that it was happening twice in one month. That wasn't usual behavior for the island.
"But it's not pink. It's black. I mean, saying 'Your shirt is p..." She stopped. "Your shirt is p...b...black." She tried again, with similar results.
"Hm." He didn't smile. It wasn't funny, not even remotely. "I think you'd better go shower and change. You're in for a long weekend."
"A long weekend?" She paused, and her mouth slipped open. "... It's... it's that thing, isn't it. That truth thing."
"That's my guess. I'll give you a few hours to get used to it. Then I'll need you back here. We still have a lot of work to do." Tim checked his watch.
"It's not going to change, is it? I mean, I'm not going to suddenly get better in the next hour? It's pointless for me to go, cool down, shower, and then come back. I would just sit and worry anyway."
Tim eyed her for a moment then shrugged, "Do what you like. How are you feeling right now?"
"Scared, and kind of annoyed at you." She winced, and looked down. "I meant that, but I'm sorry I said it."
"I expected that. I'm not offended." It would take a lot more than that to upset him. He'd been through this and he didn't expect anything terrible pleasant to be revealed. He accepted that. "I'm not going to cater to this. I told you when it was me, I'd take advantage of it if I needed to."
"I know. You and I aren't alike. That's why we balance each other." She rubbed her hand over her face. "I just don't want to go and be home. I mean, I obviously can't go to work - one 'what do you think' would doom me for life." She shook her head before shrugging. "Training is still on the table, right?"
"Discussion of team dynamics. You're going to be honest with me, I want to know how you think the team is working. The things you don't tell me because you're too polite or English to tell me." He folded his arms. Tim didn't need to remind her that he'd given her a chance for a reprieve. She would only get one.