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James T. Kirk absolutely loves marketplaces.

It's not necessarily because he's looking for anything, per se, although he does often keep an eye out for interesting books to add to his collection, or maybe a bottle of some kind of exotic alcohol, or some kind of pointless alien gizmo with which to annoy Spock with its purposeless existence. No, he just loves the sheer diversity each bazaar brings to the table.

No two markets have ever been alike, in his experience. Sure, it's not quite as exciting and mysterious as exploring deep space, but it's something of a microcosm of the same, all sorts of goods and cultures thrown into close quarters, and one never knows what one might find just down the street.

His shipboard gold uniform may stand out a bit in the crowd as he meanders along, a faint smile on his face as he leans in to examine someone's wares on display, just enjoying being out and about in the fresh air.

[OOC: Retconning Jim eating bacon in this thread. Hadn't fully considered some of the elements in his backstory at the time.]

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He was being facetious, but finding out that Narnia is around here somewhere honestly comes as no surprise at this point. "Noted."

"Proof tends to be pretty helpful when you're in charge of a boatload of scientists," he says with a wry grin. "But seriously, I kinda hope I don't have to explain it, because dealing with one alternate reality was enough trouble."

*That gets a raised brow.*

You've dealt with other Facets before?

Jim just nods a bit. "Yeah, future Spock wasn't the only one to come back in time, and the other guy changed a lot." His tone is deceptively casual, mostly because every time he starts seriously reflecting on that Romulan bastard and the future that Jim could have had, he still gets fairly upset. It's the stupidest fucking thing, really.

*She gives a sympathetic wince.*

Time travel. My sympathies. I'd ask what happened, but...

*She trails off, letting some things remain unsaid.*

"Probably for the best," Jim agrees, grimacing slightly. "It's a long story." And not a pleasant one, naturally.

The hard ones always are, and you've seen death recently. What's your preferred remedy?

"Still trying to figure that out," he admits, not wondering how she'd know how rough they've had it. Anyone familiar with his universe, his timeline, would find it obvious. "I used to go get really wasted and find someone to fight over something stupid and trivial, but I'm a captain now, so it doesn't really work." There's a somewhat self-deprecating smile attached to that statement.

*She doesn't need to be familiar with his universe to recognize the signs of trauma.*

Well, I'm not one for drink, but I've got time to spar.

*A smirk touches her lips, and a teasing note enters her voice.*

And it'd hardly be fair of me to fight you anything less than sober.

He perks up a bit at that. Getting a straight-up offer to spar, and from someone this easy on the eyes? Sold. "I thought this place doesn't allow violence."

It does if all parties consent. There's a good spot in the Gardens, not far from here, if you're up for it.

"Absolutely. Sign me up." He grins at her, and even though he knows damn well that he won't be able to really tell how strong she is until they start the actual match, he can't help sizing her up on reflex.

This way.

*Her skin-tight garment does Jim a favor there, highlighting a lean, athletic build that flows with a grace usually found in professional acrobats and predatory cats. Slight movements of her head give signs of the constant track of her gaze, side to side, up, down, steadily assessing every part of her surroundings. Her stride is quick and confident, but her feet seem to avoid noisy obstacles almost by reflex--even strolling a thoroughfare she seems almost to stalk, crunching on the occasional piece of her snack as she goes.*

*The shops and bustling streets soon give way to wide lawns and groves of trees, gardens of statuary and arranged flowers. Samus' destination is a grassy patch shaded by several trees, including one with a bench encircling its trunk. She places the remains of her toasted grasshopper there before stepping away to limber up.*

So. I'm guessing you've got some kind of training?

Jim strips off his gold uniform top, though he decides to keep the long-sleeve black undershirt on, and begins a few warm-up stretches himself. His motions aren't quite as predatory as Samus', but he's not a complete amateur either. "Some. I've done a bit of boxing and Spock's been teaching me some Vulcan moves. No teacher like experience, though," he adds.

From what he's seen so far, he's fairly certain he'd be outmatched in a fair fight. She walks like she does this a lot, compared to him anyway. But far be it from Jim to turn down a challenge this interesting.

That depends on how closely the student pays attention.

*When she thinks Kirk has had enough time to stretch, she turns to him, taking a casual ready stance. Is she teasing him? Underestimating him? Time will tell--but she seems to expect a conversation while they spar, as she poses a question.*

You went to a military academy, and they didn't teach you how to fight?

Jim easily slips into his own defensive stance, hands loosely curled and up near his face, and he smiles a little, showing teeth. "Like I said. No teacher like experience. I was the assistant instructor in advanced hand-to-hand my first year."

Whether or not that'll help him has yet to be seen, but no matter the answer, he's keen to find out.

"Assistant instructor," is that like "ambulatory practice dummy?"

*She flashes a smile of her own and throws a couple quick jabs--testing his guard, his reactions.*

"Could be," he agrees. He ducks and weaves, his moves very much like a boxer's, but the open-handed palm strike he throws her way is most certainly not. His reactions are nothing superhuman, but he knows how to protect the vital bits and he doesn't stop to think about his next move, just reacts on instinct.

*Reaction and instinct? Her lips curl in a smile. Oh, she is going to eat him for lunch. Or she would, if this were anything more than a light sparring match. As it is, she's going to throw out a series of strikes, testing those instincts of his--leading his guard toward one particular place, so she can snake an arm around it and poke the tip of his nose with a fingertip.*

Granted, Jim likes to make people underestimate him and then surprise them later, but even then, her skill is a bit above his. He's been learning to better spar with a more physically powerful opponent, thanks to Spock, but there are downsides to skipping an entire year of training at the Academy, as it turns out. Go figure.

The nose-poke is a bit of a surprise, though, and he steps back out of reach, re-evaluating his approach. "That an official move?" he asks, watching her a little more warily, more seriously.

Edited 2017-05-27 14:45 (UTC)

*She smirks, seeming to drop her guard as she shrugs.*

You going to complain to the referee?

He doesn't take the bait, figuring she's got a nasty surprise up her sleeve if he does. "Just trying to figure out what martial art uses nose-booping," he answers, and feints an attack towards her side, watching to see how she reacts. He hasn't often gotten the chance to actually study an opponent, given that probably eighty percent of his actual fighting experience has involved broken glass and being bodily thrown over bars.

The instructive sort. Or the merciful. I imagine you'd prefer either of those to just being beaten bloody and left for your crew to find, hmm?

*She barely reacts to the feint, shifting her weight just enough that, had it been an actual strike, it would have missed--a minimal effort to let him waste all of his, it could say interesting things about her combat philosophy, if Jim is the sort to read philosophy into combat. She does accept that Jim isn't taking the bait, and raises her guard again, throwing a light mix of feints and strikes. She's not trying to trick her way around his guard again, yet, just trying to get his blood moving, and make him work to keep from getting hit.*

He barks out a short laugh. "Wouldn't be the first time. But sure, let's go with that."

Vulcan martial arts quite often focus on evasion and redirecting attacks, and while Jim's not an expert, he's picked up a few things from Spock so far. He mostly abandons the boxer's stance, trading it for the defensive posture of kheile'a, a somewhat more fluid technique of dodging and moving out of reach, forcing one's opponent to reposition themselves if they want to attack.

As you like.

*She reads the change in his stance; it's an unfamiliar style, neither something from her Facet, nor one of the martial arts of Earth that she's had a chance to observe, but form follows function, and it isn't hard to recognize the shift to evasive defense. If Kirk wants to play defender for a bit, then she'll oblige him by taking the role of aggressor. Her own stance shifts as well, and she'll test his new stance with a few strikes and combinations--she surges forward, driving with fists and elbows, each movement both a strike and the setup for the next one. When she thinks he's starting to get used to dealing with her arms, she changes it up again--dropping back for just a moment, all the warning she'll give him before charging his position with a series of scything high kicks.*

He doesn't manage to evade all of her strikes, of course, but part of kheile'a also involves learning to ignore pain and channel it into something more useful - like a renewed determination not to get hit again. And when she changes her attack strategy, he decides to take a chance, and drops low, aiming his own sweeping kick at the leg she's still standing on.