[Ava was aware enough of property damage to try and avoid pushing it too far, but some mild damage to walls, or a broken chair or table, was more or less par for the course. Maybe a little awkward here and there, but nothing she thought that he couldn't handle. She knew she had it better than a lot of the others, when it came to Rumlow. She honestly liked him, and she might not have much contact with the others, but she was a spy, and there were whispers. She knew enough to realize that she could have ended up a lot worse off. And having been Red Room for her early years, she had an idea of just what that worse could look like.
This was easy, the combat was fun, playful, a thrill. Even as they pushed each other, she knew he wouldn't really try and hurt her and she was sure that he knew that she didn't really want to. He was stronger than her, when it came right down to it. Not by too much, and she was faster, more agile, but in a real fight, desperation and marrow, they'd tear each other apart. But they never did, not really. Cuts and bruises were always just at the surface.
He slams her back to the wall and she gasps, his hands on her smaller shoulders. Her fingers grabbing at one of his shoulders for leverage, while she uses the close quarters to try and catch him with her elbow. He goes to sweep her legs out from under her and she catches herself, but has to lean into him, her weight into his body to compensate. Her heart races and she smiles in the dark, a huff of breath that's almost laughter.]
You gonna prove it?
[Egging him on might not be the smart thing, but she's in a mood. And it's a good thing they're fighting because it gives her an excuse to shove back against his chest for asserting that sense of ownership. With Rumlow it's honestly something acceptable, occasionally something a little reassuring. He belongs to her, too. Give and take. But at the moment, she's still going to hit him for the arrogance -- even if she likes it.]
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This was easy, the combat was fun, playful, a thrill. Even as they pushed each other, she knew he wouldn't really try and hurt her and she was sure that he knew that she didn't really want to. He was stronger than her, when it came right down to it. Not by too much, and she was faster, more agile, but in a real fight, desperation and marrow, they'd tear each other apart. But they never did, not really. Cuts and bruises were always just at the surface.
He slams her back to the wall and she gasps, his hands on her smaller shoulders. Her fingers grabbing at one of his shoulders for leverage, while she uses the close quarters to try and catch him with her elbow. He goes to sweep her legs out from under her and she catches herself, but has to lean into him, her weight into his body to compensate. Her heart races and she smiles in the dark, a huff of breath that's almost laughter.]
You gonna prove it?
[Egging him on might not be the smart thing, but she's in a mood. And it's a good thing they're fighting because it gives her an excuse to shove back against his chest for asserting that sense of ownership. With Rumlow it's honestly something acceptable, occasionally something a little reassuring. He belongs to her, too. Give and take. But at the moment, she's still going to hit him for the arrogance -- even if she likes it.]