Rosa watches him limp away like an injured dog across to the closet, and she almost feels bad for the guy. Given everything she's learned about how fucked up this village is, she wouldn't be surprised if he just woke up in the middle of the night and randomly found himself falling from 50 feet up in the air with nothing but a sprig of lavender to help him.
This place is that kind of fucked, as in real fucked.
She does take him up on his silent offer and gets close enough to get a good look, reaching down to grab on and feel its heft. A far, far cry from the real thing, but actually not terrible in terms of teaching and learning. She gives herself enough berth to try out some of the moves she can remember — no formal training, mostly just a .. personal endeavour — and, after a few moments of that, she offers a one-shouldered shrug in vague approval.
She loosely keeps her grip on it, letting the blunt top fall to the ground.
"I dunno who any of those people are," she says, looking to him. "I was a detective before I fucking wound up here." She gestures with the practice sword around them, though it's obvious she means the village at-large, not just the dojo. "Grew up doing gymnastics, ballet. Got kicked out of the ballet academy for beating the other ballerinas up when they were being dicks. I can scale walls, parkour, all that shit. I'm trained in all sorts like that, both from the academy and from my own, uh, independent studies. Fire arms too, though .. there don't seem to be any here, which is the fucking worst."
She hasn't officially offered her services, going under the assumption that this guy would even want any of them, but she's hanging the carrot out, seeing if he bites.
no subject
This place is that kind of fucked, as in real fucked.
She does take him up on his silent offer and gets close enough to get a good look, reaching down to grab on and feel its heft. A far, far cry from the real thing, but actually not terrible in terms of teaching and learning. She gives herself enough berth to try out some of the moves she can remember — no formal training, mostly just a .. personal endeavour — and, after a few moments of that, she offers a one-shouldered shrug in vague approval.
She loosely keeps her grip on it, letting the blunt top fall to the ground.
"I dunno who any of those people are," she says, looking to him. "I was a detective before I fucking wound up here." She gestures with the practice sword around them, though it's obvious she means the village at-large, not just the dojo. "Grew up doing gymnastics, ballet. Got kicked out of the ballet academy for beating the other ballerinas up when they were being dicks. I can scale walls, parkour, all that shit. I'm trained in all sorts like that, both from the academy and from my own, uh, independent studies. Fire arms too, though .. there don't seem to be any here, which is the fucking worst."
She hasn't officially offered her services, going under the assumption that this guy would even want any of them, but she's hanging the carrot out, seeing if he bites.