The Rendezvous // Thomas Sangster

Rosalin

We all nod. 

"Great. Meet back here in an hour and a half." Kick nods and the groups begin to disperse. 

I start to follow Berenjena, but Thomas grabs my arm, causing me to come to a halt. He mutters, "Just a minute." He looks to Kick and says, "I'm just going to talk to her for a minute. I'll meet you there in a bit." 

Kick nods, turning to go back into the range, followed by Hero. I look at Thomas curiously as he waits for the others to leave the room. Once everyone has left, he looks at me, taking my hand in his, "How are you doing?"

I raise my eyebrows, "Fine. Why?"

He shakes his head, pulling me into a hug. He nuzzles his face into my neck and I hear him mutter, "It's just crazy. Everything that's happening. Everything that we'll be going through in two days. I just want to make sure you're all right."

"I'm fine." I smile, pulling away a bit so that I can look into his eyes. The cocoa color that look almost exactly like they could be mugs of hot chocolate. They are the only things that betray his youthful features and show his age. His eyes that are so often serious and very rarely shine. His eyes that more often are filled anger than joy. His eyes that usually contain years of guilt, shame and pain are instead filled with a soft look of adoration. For me.

"Well, let's keep you that way then." He says quietly. "How much self-defense do you know?"

I shrug, "I know some. Hero taught me how to throw and block punches in high school. Plus, he taught me how to use a gun once he joined the FBI. Told me that it was important to know if I ever got kidnapped. Of course, at the time I thought it was silly and that I would never get kidnapped, but life is full of surprises." I grin. 

"All right, that's a start." He stands up straighter, smirking,  "Let's try your hand at throwing  a few punches then."

I laugh, "What, you want me to punch you?"

"Sort of." He shrugs, holding his palms up, "I want you to hit my palms."

"Dude, I don't know how to tell you this," I say, amused, "But even hitting your palms in going to hurt. You'd do better to let me hit your stomach."

"I'm not worried about getting hurt. I'm worried about you getting hurt." He says pointedly, "Beside, this is good practice for aiming your punches. C'mon, Steph."

I give him a mildly condescending look, which makes him laugh, and get into a fighting stance. He grins, "Doll face looks like a warrior. Got your feet firmly planted and everything. Now, hit my palms as hard as you can."

I take a couple of deep breaths, clenching my fists before I take my first jab at Thomas's hands. I hear the words of my brother in my head; Don't hit too hard or you'll split your knuckles. 

"Good one." Thomas says approvingly, "You know not to tuck your thumb into your fingers, right?"

"Of course," I mumble, preparing for my next punch, "I don't want to break my thumb, do I?"

I place several more punches in Thomas's palm. After a few good hits, he mumbles, "All right, now I want you to try and hit me."

I raise my eyebrows, my voice rising an octave, "What?"

"You won't hit me." Thomas chuckles, "I've been in my fair share of fist fights. I want you to try to hit me."

My mouth drops open slightly and I look at him teasingly, "Maybe I will hit you, since you're so cocky about it."

"Come and get me then." He waves me forward smirking. 

The two of use circle around one another, as if we're each others prey. I know that Thomas is only defending and that I've got to make the first hit, so I attempt to subtly edge closer without him noticing. Of course, Thomas does notice and edges away. I can't help but try to hide the grin that's plastered on my face. Finally, I take a swing, which he blocks easily with his arm.