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When a team and an organization has a lot of down time, the people who run things often try to disguise it with a good chunk of busy work. For some that's made up of taking inventory, or auditing files. For others that involves running down some footwork to doublecheck facts in files and the like. Yet for field operatives who live or die by muscle memory and their skills… long parts of their days are taken up with training.
The man known as Hawkeye to some and Clint to others, he's no stranger to such a schedule. The younger Barton brother has gained his reputation as a sterling agent by spending almost a quarter of each day working on his skills. Oh he certainly has tried to pass it off at times as natural talent, but anyone who has known the man for an extended period of time will know that he works hard to operate at the level he's reached.
Today is different, however, in that he's involved someone else in his training. Normally it's an hour of calisthenics, another working weights and the heavy bag, and then another with marksmanship drills using a variety of weapons of varying calibers and ammunition types. Right now, though, it's hand to hand considering he actually has a sparring partner.
The two agents stand on the mats, dressed in loose fitting clothing. For him it's the traditional judogi that allows a close-combat practicioner proper points of grip for throws and chokes. Right now it's just those warm-up movements between two combatants where they each take turns grabbing the others lapels and pulling upon the other. Three times for him, three times for her, then one of them is tossed down hard upon the mats. Each taking turn, each moving with the motion, and each recovering easily to retake the place opposite the other.
It's as he recovers from her throw that he gains his feet and again grabs her lapels, meeting her eyes as he begins to pull… and turn… pull… and turn. But this time he speaks calmly, "You're not half-bad at this, Petrovna."
*
In a way, Clint is working with a very like-minded partner, Laynia always being serious and ultimately motivated to outperform or at least equal the men who have been her comrades on different levels along the route that brought her to become a decorated Captain in the Soviet Army. There is of course all of her non-listed accomplishments, but it's probably for the best the ACT-F, SHIELD and CIA stay out of the loop on that part. They have more immediate concerns, such as the sometimes myth sometimes real Winter Soldier. One thing would be immediately clear to Clint, Laynia is just like him in spending a great portion of her day in honing her skills and the shape of her body.
On the sparring mat, Laynia has matched Clint's gi, albeit hers, shock of shocks, is in a not very traditional red. She seems very comfortable sharing the mat with him, just as he is with her. Where in sophomoric surrounding a guy and a girl might find such close proximity awkward, here there's no tension apparent, merely a routine exercise where each sparring partner seems to respect the other.
When Clint starts to prolong the struggle for positioning, Laynia plays along, adding a bit of a curveball here and there with a foot springing forward for a would be throw, before backing out again. "Thanks for noticink," Laynia muses, "you are pretty good yourself, Barton. I thought it vasn't all bow and arrows."
*
The man's voice is light, conversational as he keeps that grip on her lapel as each of them twist their grip and turn, circling upon the mats with the fabric crunching faintly under their bare footsteps. "Nope," He agrees with her and casually lists off a few of his NATO weapons ratings, "Some fencing, close in knife work, most of the firearms that are lying around here."
There's a shift of his grip and his ankle strikes the inside of hers as he tries to turn her over his hip, but she's able to slip away and to the side forcing him to give up on the throw to maintain his hands upon her lapel, "Heck, I'm even registered A-class with harsh language."
Perhaps, if he sees at the least a ghost of a smile, he'll try and take advantage of it by abruptly turning and twisting his hands to draw and draw her against his back for a smoothly executed shoulder throw, aiming to take her down to the mats in front of him.
*
"Oh? Zen we should try some svordplay sometime," Laynia remarks, though beyond the tinge of amusement, she seems duly impressed with Clint Barton. There's something comforting in finding a member of the ACT-F who is more like her, because most of them have been more politicians or at least seemed that way, than actual field personnel. She quiets for a moment to focus, negating Clint's throw attempt, and taking a more cautious approach, making him work harder for another opening like the one he just had.
"Language? I didn't know zat vas on approvet weapon list," she laughs, and that momentary distraction seem to pay off, only instead of falling clean, Laynia somehow manages to wrap her legs about Clint's arm, forcing him to go down with her. He has leverage, however, so in a world of sports, the point would still go to him. If this was real, on the other hand, the positioning Laynia worked herself into would be deadly.
*
As they take the match to the mats, their bodies hit the ground with a series of whumpf-wha-whumpfs, the woolen fabric of the judogis whispering against them, as each tries to seize a moment's advantage. When she switches her grip to try and gain an arm bar with her legs upon either side of his, he twists with the flow, rolling up to grasp the lapel of her crimson gi and pull it tight against the side of her neck, knuckles rolling inward as he presses down and meets her eyes. She definitely has the flexibility edge, but he has the brute strength to push through.
His lip twists as a faint grunt slips from him when she tightens that grip, but he doesn't give. Instead he murmurs, "Looks like you picked up some jiu-jitsu as well," She can feel him test her grip as he cocks an eyebrow at her, even as he holds onto his own taut grip.
"What do ya say we broaden this up? Show me whatcha got, and I'll return the favor."
*
There's no doubt Clint is not a tournament fighter, he doesn't gloat, he knows Laynia has a dangerous hold on him and shows appreciation, so while they're on the mat with Laynia being pressed to the mat, she maintains her hold while he plays along. "I did…you know martial arts better than most, Barton," Laynia offers him well deserved props. She grins at the challenge he offers, and while tightening her hold while considering her next move, she asks, "everythink? Even secret technique…?" While her tone is playful, there's a serious look in her blue eyes. Looks like she wonders whether to cheat or not.
—placeholder log for paused scene, didn't want to lose the log