Zipper’s whiskers

During FITE NITE
@charlie

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Ingrid was enjoying this, much as she had last time. She mingled here and there, touching base with what few familiar faces there were to her. It was hard not to think of the last time. Throttling Iago until he couldn't speak English, getting stitches in her fucking face, Sokol sweating from the iron rod up his ass. Not so long ago, chatting with Iago about having another spar, as friends. It threatened to sour her mood.

She chose not to linger on it for long. Instead, she focused on this, on creeping into the ring when her name rang out, wondering which of these strangers was Charlie. She'd find out soon enough, at least, finding herself staring down a man who didn't uite look like he belonged here. Cat of some variety, certainly. No claws lodged in his fingertips, at least. The lion was peering curiously in an instant, and Ingrid likely mirrored that look, eyeing the man with a cold sort of curiosity.

...sometimes you find yourself looking across a fighting ring towards an unfamiliar blonde woman who looked somehow tougher than your already kickass girlfriend, and who looked about twenty times less likely to go easy on him.

But he'd learned a few things from Isolde over their years together. One of their first sorta-dates had been a spar. They'd done these sorts of things. But where he knew Isolde, this Ingrid was a complete unknown, and getting his rear handed to him in public was definitely going to be embarrassing. But acknowledging that and embracing it and reminded himself that Mathis was here and they had medics and everything...

Worst came to worst he could just surrender. This would be over in a literal minute one way or another.

Deep breaths.

Timeshare did some very friendly chirping, as if speaking to the... cat. Cat, that was all he got at this distance and he was a little afraid to get close enough to sort here out.

"Ready?" he asked the lady, or maybe he just was asking himself.

Ingrid could pick nervousness out as well as any proper predator should. She listened to his deep breath and fixed him with a small plastic smile, nodding her head just so for his question. She didn't have much to say, really, pulling her hands up near her face and gut, shifting her feet on the mat. "Ready." But she didn't make the first move, staying planted instead, waiting for him to make the approach. 0:)

Ready, she said, and she waited.

Which wasn't great, he'd be honest. He'd rather she hit him first, maybe then he could rally or whatever. But he could make this work. He had promised himself that he would, coming into this, to put as much of what Isolde had taught him to use as he could. So... using the vibe Timeshare had, of wanting to get closer to check her out, see what this woman was, exactly, he went for it after only a couple of seconds of standing there with his fists up.

Rushed her with his one advantage, speed, and took a pretty decent swing at her shoulder.

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miss!

He seemed to hesitate. Ingrid remained patient, but tensed some as the finally moved - he came in with a hit for her shoulder, and she twisted to avoid it, feeling just the outer edge of his fist skirting by. Flashes of yellow and black, spots and stripes. Cheetah, maybe. The lioness bared her teeth, feeling superior. Using her movement of avoidance to swing back, she shifted her weight, lifting a leg to clock him in the side with the top of her foot.

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miss

Holy--!! That had been close. He'd missed the chance to hit her basically entirely, but Charlie immediately felt his luck when a foot that could have ended him too easily brushed him just enough to send his heart into his throat. He reeled backward, remembering to bring both hands up to his face. Protecting himself, realizing this woman, this... cat, wow, he still had no idea at all. Anyway, whatever she was, she was far more capable than he could dream of being.

But that didn't stop him. He had to keep at it. Didn't manage anything before she had both feet back on the ground, but he lunged with yet another strike at her shoulder, half his mind very focused on also protecting his face. Maybe a little boxery, kind of his style.

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the biggest miss

She only grazed him, and he reeled back, winding forward just as quickly. Another shoulder strike - she wondered if that was as predictable a move from the man as it seemed - which she tilted away from with a huff. It inspired some idea of jeering at him for not taking heartier shots, but she kept quiet in that sense. Maybe she needed to make a more serious move to encourage him instead.

With a soft hiss of an exhale through her teeth, she surged at him again, swinging a fist at his gut, having only a moment to regret it. Just hoping he wouldn't vomit all over her if she landed it.

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but she didn't land it lol

Alarm!! Knowing her intent was not good, not getting hit at all seemed to become the goal here. Not so sure he could actually take a mean-spirited hit, but thankfully his ability to dance backwards was intact. Blamed Timeshare and those reflexes--that feline knew how to move, and as a result, so did Charlie. Sort of. I mean, if he had been half as impressive as world's fastest cat he would have at least been able to bat at her, right?

So with her just barely missing a blow, a scuffle to the back and side instead as he avoided the bulk of it, he uh... swung for her head this time, pretty frightened of the outcome either way. White eyed? Him? Yes.

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it's a hit!

He was absolutely swift, she'd give him that. Any were who wasn't should be ashamed, but there was room for humor about cheetahs in there somewhere. Ingrid didn't have much attention for humor here, thinking only of trying to catch the damn man - only to be caught by him instead. She grunted as his fist hurled around to connect with her cheek, head and torso swinging with the impact. It was nothing personal. The nature of the act. Still, the lioness boomed her discontent, offering images of destruction.

Swiftly, she retaliated, twisting her body behind a fist that was aimed straight for the man's chin.

---

hit by the skin of her teeth

It went about as he expected. He was close enough to hit her, and did, felt strange about that, and then immediately paid the price. Because if you can hit her, she can hit you, you know? Ingrid struck back with such swift ferocity he was on the ground before he realized it. Sat hard on his rear, rattled, and pretty sure he'd just blacked out for the fall because he didn't remember getting down here.

Braced in his half-back sitting position on the ground with one hand, he brought his other hand up as if to ward her off but couldn't--anything, really. He'd never had to recover from anything quite like that before. Even Timeshare seemed at a loss.

He went down like a sentient sack of potatoes. Ingrid hopped back on her toes, watching him for any sudden strike or reach for her legs. Instead, he stayed down, holding up a hand, a silent plea for mercy. Lucky cheetah, she wasn't the sort to kick someone while they were down - not in a friendly spar, at any rate. He seemed to be counting stars dancing around his head just yet, and she stayed back, watching him. Better than claws to the face, at any rate. "You alright?"

Was he okay? He... hm. Well, his head was pounding, but he felt like he was alright. "Yeah, I'm..." mostly surprised she hadn't come after him when he was down, but seemed she knew the sort of person she was up against. He hoped he wasn't disappointing to her.

With that thought in mind, he was stable enough to try and get back up, and he did so. A little slow, not popping right back up like he'd never gone down, but he also wasn't staggering sideways or anything. Just... woo, that had been a hit.

"Think we still have about thirty seconds if you wanna....?" Come at him, lady, he was ready for you. Sorta.

He wasn't great, but he was fine enough. Ingrid nodded, giving him space to get up, for all the clock was certainly ticking. Another knock on the chin like that and she might put him to sleep. There were better matches to be pit against than Charlie, probably, but the least she could do was not kill him.

She nodded wordlessly to him, and moved into his space again when he was nice and ready, seeking a hole in his defenses to punch him in the chest.

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miss!

Oh there were definitely holes in his defenses, no doubt, but him and his spotted passenger had a single goal now that he'd been hit once: don't get hit again. At least, not that hard. He got out of the way just barely on that one, taking a rough jostling to the shoulder, but nothing that would set him back on his butt again. And he sort of took the chance there to swing in lower, towards her side.

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miss tho

Her knuckles all but glanced off him, and he was shimmying away, returning with a strike for her ribs. Deftly, she parried the blow, knocking his hand away with her forearm. Keeping momentum, staying in his space, she lifted a leg again, whipping a bent knee into the side of his thigh, aiming to strike a specific bundle of nerves just above the knee.

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hitto

Part of him was well aware there was no way he was winning this. That he had, essentially, already lost. The pain that blossomed from that point of nerves was an incredible confirmation of that, leg buckling, taking him down again. Not flat out, he managed to control it enough to go down on one knee in front of her instead of just toppling like a house of cards, grasping at her on the way down--whatever he could grab, really, just to try one very last ditch attempt of bringing her down with him.

To what end? No idea.

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but it don't matter cause he miss

Down he went, pawing at her like a drowning cat. Ingrid frowned for it, shirking whatever purchase his hands sought. He wasn't completely down, and so that was grounds enough to stay on him, as far as she was concerned. Feeling pretty intent on just shutting this down, she reared back and lifted her leg again, kicking him squarely in the chest - nothing that would break ribs, just something to send him onto his back with a little bruising.

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hit

You know, really, it could have been worse and he knew it.

In the next second, hurting from several points now, he found himself staring up at the harsh fluorescent lighting above them. Immediately he was tapping out, trying to roll onto his side with a hand up to guard again, but he knew that this time he was done. Fighting for a solid breath, Timeshare all limbs in his head, he waved her off. "Good--ow--good one," he managed hoarsely. She had it, she'd won. He may have gotten, what, one good hit in there? That was more than enough triumph for him.

Well, he would have been very easy to kill, if that had been her goal. He flattened out like a soda can under a tire, tapping out and warding her out with what little wind he could muster out of his lungs. She'd hardly even broken a sweat in all this. Next time, perhaps.

"Safe to assume you're out of your comfort zone here?" she asked of him, as genuine as she was dry, reaching a hand down to help him up to his feet.

He took that hand. And maybe if he hadn't been so rattled from the tame beating he'd taken, he might have noticed more than the idea of cat from the feline flashes between them, but honestly she could have been anything, there just wasn't anything he could identify her from. Nondescript, almost. And it hardly mattered--whatever she was, she was stronger. Timeshare chirped and Charlie was hauled to his feet, rubbing ruefully at his chest with his free hand.

"Afraid so. Trying new things, you know." He'd probably disappointed her a lot but he didn't feel too much shame. She got her victory and he had maybe learned a bit while she was at it.

Up he went, seeming certainly weaker for their brief encounter, rubbing at his chest. She nodded to his response, releasing him and flicking her hair over her shoulder. "Good for you. Keep it up." Never anything wrong with pursuing a strange new venture, if you asked her - especially one so useful as fighting. That was all she'd come here for, though, really - so if there was nothing else, she'd make her way to exit the ring.