Owner	Pose
Ana Corazon	Anya spits out some carpet. She has eaten enough of it tonight to give her shares in several flooring companies, and has the bruises to prove it. She groans, then starts to get back up. The problem is that her opponent doesn't even appear to be trying. "Canary, you suck," she says as she wobbles to her feet. Even her vaunted sense of balance is being tested, because the multiple throws she's rolled out of have been balanced by the times she was just faceplanted. "If I wanted to get beaten up, I'd be doing the work." She hasn't given up yet, but she's shaking. Nearing her limits.
Black Canary	Some might say that Dinah is a sadist. Others might say she enjoys watching people get hurt. She says she teaches people what they're getting into and makes sure they want to be there before it's too late for them to back out. Watching Anya faceplant and bruise and suffer isn't something she enjoys (any more than she enjoyed being on the receiving end when training up). But she can't show sympathy; she can't show enjoyment either. Her face is neutral instead, even as she inwardly winces. Faceplants are the worst. "I'm not even beating you up yet," she instead says. "So far you've been beating yourself up. I haven't actually struck you." Yet. That's a dangerous word right there. "But Anya, this is the lifestyle. Are you ready for it? Is it what you want? Because what you're feeling right now is what you're going to face every time you go out and do good." She tilts her head and regards Anya with veiled baby blues. "You've got it in you physically. You could easily become one of the best of the best. Right now you're facing your mental limits. How are those?" Then, devoid of any apparently mercy, she takes her stance. "Again."
Ana Corazon	Anya's stance was solid at the start. Better than most, but exhaustion has made her hands drop and her head movements slow. She gets up, her hands in looser fists than they deserve. If this were a real fight, she'd be easy prey. Not that she's exactly a challenge at full power, but that's not the point, now is it? "Gugh," she says eloquently, then she launches a much too slow front kick that would still have done damage, if it was ever going to hit. She still isn't falling over, which is a testament to how good her balance really is, even this level of tired. But it's shakey. "A real, opponent, wouldn't.." she says, her breaths coming between words. She's working hard, and it's easy to tell, as she throws more kicks and mixes in punches that are sloppy, easy to avoid, and ...honest. She can't finish her sentence, not until she can get back some breath, but she does. "You..should punch," she manages, when she can manage it. "Then I can...hate you more." Then she throws a bad overhand, she knows better but she's tired, damnit!
Black Canary	Canary really, really doesn't like doing it, but ... She doesn't even work at the blocks. She barely moves and stops the attacks. This is a dangerous time; a time when someone could feel humiliated by the experience. So you have to bolster some too. "Well, I guess we're seeing how the mental limits are," she comments as she (mercifully) only blocks, doesn't counterattack. Until she does. With stunning rapidity, from an unexpected direction, her foot lashes out, straight for Anya's exposed throat. The bare foot stops with only a couple of millimetres to spare just shy of the girl and stays there a moment to let it sink in on Anya what could have just happened. Then she withdraws and backs up. "You've got the right attitude. Which is far more important than your current level of training. You're already good enough to handle most of what the street could throw at you, albeit with a few cuts and bruises coming at you along the way." She steps forward and pokes Anya in the chest. "But. You're. Not. Giving. Up." And now she lets the 'teacher pride' expression finally enter her face. "Today's lesson wasn't about fighting technique, Anya. It was about attitude. I had to push you to see how far you'd go." She snorts. "Like me when I was in your shoes, you took it too far. Way too far. That's a good sign. It means you're not going to let a little setback, or probably even a major one, get you to quit." She smiles then, and is Dinah-the-civilian-flower-seller once more. "Shower up. Make sure you assess your strained muscles and such and hit them with the needle jets. Then let's get out and eat something incredibly unhealthy while drinking enough to kill our livers twice over."
Ana Corazon	If her balance were any worse, if Dinah had gauged it any less finely, Anya would have leaned forward there. Been a bit too close. She literally felt the foot tap her larynx, and the urge to stop herself from attacking, right then, was more than she could actually do. So, holding herself upright through force of will alone, she watches Dinah talk. Poke her in the chest. Then turn off the jets, and become Dinah again. Which is when her body gives up. She rushes to one side, grabs a bucket, and vomits into it. The stress reaction of someone who's actually gone too far, just as Dinah said. She pukes, her hair mostly to one side, and then shakes as she gasps for breath. After the first bit, she lifts a hand. One moment, it says. Then she sits down, holding the bucket in her lap, and twitches visibly. "Sounds. Good," she says, with a weird smile. "I can't eat yet. Gimme a few minutes." To be fair, she looks like shit. But there's still mental strength, if weakened badly.
Black Canary	The urge to laugh is strong. Not at Anya, but at the echo of her own training... which wasn't comfortably long ago. "Take the time. Self-healing is part of this game. You can't go out when you're not ready. That's a lethal mistake. Purge. Clean up. Enjoy the everloving shit out of that shower. And once you're ready to face the world, we'll go and raise a little Hell together. Blow off steam." She shakes her head, and chuckles. "You must think I'm a grade A bitch right now. I know I hated Ted when I started out. He was merciless. Didn't want me hitting the streets without being ready, mentally, to face it down. Which didn't stop me from hating him..."
Ana Corazon	Anya hurks! herself to her feet, which is not as pretty as her normal ascensions. She winces, then limps a bit. "Right leg. I'll...yeah." She vanishes into the showers, tossing her clothing, and is gone for too long and too hot. As showers should be, damnit! There's a movement of the wind, though. As Dinah is out there, tidying up or whatever she's doing. Something that shouldn't be there. A presence. "New prospect?" it asks. "I bargain for her, I will take her. You will have youth again, and your dreams." Interesting. It's not threatening...you.
Black Canary	Dinah's skin crawls as the voice seeps out into the dojo, making its weird offer. The mop head is snapped off with a swift kick (she'll be feeling that bruise tomorrow!) and the handle then snapped in the middle across her knee. Armed, now, with two makeshift fighting sticks, Dinah looks around for the source of the voice. "I'm not old, and I'm living the dream. Get out." She's had enough experience with Zee to know the supernatural is real and that it's best not to assume it's 'nothing'.
Ana Corazon	There is a man, sitting in a corner now. He looks like an old trainer, the kind that dies beside the ring. He isn't smiling however. "You value her then, but not your lost youth. Do I waste my time now? Or do you wish to take her yourself? A paladin growing is in danger from forces outside of himself." He pauses then, adding, "Or herself," as if he only just remembered that sexes of the race were a thing. "I could protect her through the period of weakness." If Dinah knows what he speaks of, or not? It does seem to be something slightly out of our current time though, this spirit or demon or ghost. It uses outlandish concepts.
Black Canary	"I'm fine for 'protecting' her. Protection is kinda my thing, after all." She takes a step forward, in an ecrima stance, one stick presented, the other refused, eyes laser-focused on the intruder. "Now you've got two choices. One, you can say who you are and what you're talking about, two, you can leave. Or three, you can get your ass handed to you before you leave." A humourless grin crosses her face. "I suck at math. Live with it."
Ana Corazon	He frowns then, which is not much different from his previous expression. Balding, old, he looks older even than when he arrived! As if he's aging, he hunches more. "There it is," he says softly. "The threats. This is no bargain, you know not the rules." He looks at the doorway through which the girl had left, then smiles again. It is an aged, but strong, motion. "Perhaps I fight you? I am more than I seem. Do you offer that bargain? Winner takes the girl." He rises, weakly, but it is so obviously a ploy. "I will live with it. You will live with it. In fact, we all might live with it." He is not giving up on the bargain idea, is he? But now, is it safe to fight him? Is engaging with him acceptance of the 'deal'?
Black Canary	"I don't make deals for people. I fight for them. If you want a fight, you've got it, and you picked more than you can chew on because if I can't handle you, which I almost certainly can..." Dinah's bravado doesn't SEEM faked...? "...you've gone and pissed off Alpha Flight, the Justice League, and the Birds of Prey at a minimum, likely adding in SHIELD as well." She grins recklessly. "It'd be worth losing the fight just to watch Supes wipe the floor with you," she adds. "Pity I just can't lose." Her face hardens. "Now here's my bargain. Get out. That's it. The whole bargain."
Ana Corazon	"A BARGAIN IS STRUCK!" He smiles, showing the lack of any teeth, then bows. "I hope you do not regret the choice." Then? He turns, going to the door, which he uses properly. With a doorknob, and everything. And once he's outside, he stops. His entire demeanor changes, becoming less. Different. An actual old man, who looks dumb and confused. "How did I get here?" he asks, as the door closes behind him. And another door opens, Anya coming out of the showers, rubbing her hair with a towel. "Who was that?" she asks, looking around. "I miss something?" He is gone. Isn't he?
Black Canary	Canary is staring at the door where the old man exited when Anya comes out. The change in the demeanour of the old man, and his obvious confusion, send a troubled chill down her spine. "Nobody," she says, affecting a carefree grin. "Just some grifter trying to get my hard-earned money. It's nothing." She looks Anya over. "Feeling better? Feeling less like a pile of bruised bruises and more like a person?"
Ana Corazon	"I still have a lot of words about your parentage, if you want to hear them," Anya says grumpily. "But I get it. Let me get this off my chest." She pauses, then lapses into spanish to compliment Canary in ways that should only happen outside brothels. And by compliment I mean cussing. She did not learn these terms in church. After a moment, she grins. "Now I feel better. That option of junk food still open?" The guy's gone from the front door, and it only feels slightly ominous...
Black Canary	"If you don't hate me, I'm not doing my job as a trainer," Canary opines with a grin. "C'mon. You'll feel better after you get some food into you. I made you burn up a lot of ATP and other goodies today. Time to replenish." Her eyes twinkle, lips pursing a moment, before she adds, "You'll have a few more things to throw at me when you hate me," she says, "after watching me eat. I burn up ... a lot of energy. I eat accordingly."