Sparring session for Nick

[1stmacleod]

For some reason, Connor never expected the holidays to be this hard. Thanksgiving passed by without much notice, he's never really celebrated that, but Christmas has had him on a private roller coaster. One minute he's blissfully happy to have a home and a woman he's in love with who loves him back, even knowing the truth of what he is, the next minute he's remembering holidays with John and Rachel and even Brenda and he just wants to go bury himself in a dark corner with a bottle of whiskey. All the scotch he's been given as gifts is going at a distressing rate. It's not even New Year's yet, and then it'll be his birthday soon after that, which he just hopes nobody will notice at all...

Just a few days after, and he's pacing, resisting the urge to crack open the next bottle. He needs a distraction. He needs to get out. He needs something to do.

The message that comes on Nick's pinpoint is typical Connor, brief and brusque and to the point.
Want to spar?
There's coordinates attached, and he's got the sense to have picked somewhere it's night. Connor's waiting in a grassy field on a quiet world he ran across in a Nexus guidebook. There's an almost full moon that gives him enough light to see by, and it's not the dead of winter, here, so he can stand around in t-shirt and jeans and sneakers without freezing his ass off. He swings the katana slowly, working his way through kata. There's a couple of rapiers and a western broadsword on the ground nearby... and a bottle of scotch, because his willpower gave out already.

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[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

Connor gives that little raspy chuckle, but it's through gritted teeth. "Hell of an arm you've got..." He's panting a little, looking for a way to break the deadlock, but he's pretty sure the face to the nose trick won't work again, and he doesn't dare take a hand off the sword. That limits his options, so he turns in a sudden spin, to one side. That means the resistance of his blade is just suddenly gone and his shoulder brushes Nick's as he goes past. He's hoping the amount of force Nick was using will send him staggering forward.

[det-debrabant.livejournal.com]

Nick takes a lurching step forward when Connor spins, the pressure suddenly lifting and leaving him unbalanced. He doesn't dare leave his back to Connor and so he turns as he takes another step in the same direction, raising his sword to the ready in case there's an incoming attack. He takes the momentum he'd used against Connor to help get him away from him.

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

((Staying in tonight, after all.))

Connor's not about to pass up the opportunity, and his blade comes slicing Nick's way as he passes, but that extra step makes it into a near miss. He can't really blame Connor for trying to get him in the back, right? He slides back into a defensive pose, not sure if Nick's going to launch straight into the next attack, or give him a few seconds to form one of his own.

[det-debrabant.livejournal.com]

((Heh, same thing here.))

Nick is noticing that Connor's starting to tire, and since he was so willing to take a shot at Nick from behind, he's equally open to turning around and not giving him a break. He comes in swinging almost before he's finished changing direction.

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

In friendly sparring sessions, Connor might be willing to call an end to things. Duncan might even embarrass him by calling a halt, because otherwise their matches can go on too long and get sloppy. That's the trouble when you're evenly matched. Of course, he and Duncan have killed each other by accident in sparring before, but Connor's always sure he'll wake up again to his kinsman's sheepish smile. He's less sure about Nick, who he's still getting to know.

He healed from a cut on the arm, so he'll probably manage something worse, too. Connor braces, slides sideways, and aims a low thrust at the last minute, He may get cut up himself, but that's a risk he's willing to take to get in a potentially crippling strike.

[det-debrabant.livejournal.com]

For having flashed his eyes earlier, Nick's not sparring with all his abilities, and Connor's move takes him by surprise. His blade tries to follow Connor but the low thrust catches him. There's the sound of a pained grunt as he stops, and looks down at Connor's sword. He stands still a moment, and then looks up at Connor with his yellow eyes again, and a sheepish, fanged smile.

"Alright, you win."

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

He wasn't quite expecting that kind of surrender, and he pauses face to face with his sword still going through Nick's body, possibly into a kidney. He didn't want any risk of hitting the heart, after all. Connor blinks, and gives a smile that's genuinely apologetic. "I thought- Ngh. Steady on..." He's still on guard, just in case it's some kind of trick, but he does put a hand on Nick's shoulder to steady him and pulls out the katana as carefully as he can.

[det-debrabant.livejournal.com]

Nick doesn't give him any resistance as the blade is drawn out. Once it's out, he fingers where the wound should be, and comes back with a clean hand. The skin has healed, keeping the blood from getting on his clothes. He straightens up a little bit, his ego thoroughly bruised and closes his eyes a moment. When they open again, they are back to their normal color, and his fangs are gone when he speaks.

"Normally, I'd stop using the sword after that point."

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

"...How do you do that? No blood?" Connor steps back, since he seems stable on his own feet, and frowns. Immortals heal quick, but it still leaves blood on their clothes, which can be inconvenient in so many ways. Plus it takes longer to heal if they do get an injury so bad it bleeds out.

[det-debrabant.livejournal.com]

Nick looks a little uncertain as he turns toward the weapons.

"I don't have much blood to start with."

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

"...Oh. Hunh. Guess you have to avoid doctors getting a close look at you, too." He follows, katana held low in a non-aggressive way.

[det-debrabant.livejournal.com]

"Yeah. I have a friend who is one, but she knows what I am. She likes to joke about how I would create a panic just by letting anyone else look at my blood pressure." Nick places his sword on the ground and sits down again. He's checking out his swords as he speaks. "Not much of a heartbeat to speak of, either."

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

"Guess you've got it worse off..." He sits cross-legged by the swords, and almost goes for the scotch again, then pauses and looks thoughtful. "The last time I was in a hospital, I ended up in the Psych ward..."

[det-debrabant.livejournal.com]

Nick winces. He really, honestly, hates hospitals and the thought of being stuck in a Psych ward is not his idea of a good situation for an immortal to find themselves in.

"How'd you manage to get out?"

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

"I told Napoleon I needed to get out so I could complete my mission and kill Wellington, and he created a diversion..." He pauses to let that sink in, then looks up with a grin.

[det-debrabant.livejournal.com]

Nick snorts and shakes his head.

"So you were friends with Houdini?"

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

"Heheh. No, never met him. I fought against Napoleon, though. The real one, not the man with the paper hat in the Psych ward..." He does reach for the scotch this time, and takes a drink. The bottle's about half empty.

[det-debrabant.livejournal.com]

"I stayed away from those battlefields, if I could." He eyes that scotch though as Connor drinks. Not that he's interested in a drink, but being significantly wounded usually leaves him a bit hungry from the effort needed to heal.

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

"...Navy." He looks distant and thoughtful for a moment, then notices the way Nick's looking at him and offers up the bottle. He does feel just a tiny bit bad for running him through.

[det-debrabant.livejournal.com]

He hesitates, he won't stomach it well, but it would be rude now that Connor's offered it. He reaches out and takes the scotch. He takes a small swig and hands it back.

"Thanks." For a moment, he sounds like he might choke, but clears his throat, and he's alright. "So, Navy? I thought you hated the British." He smiles.

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

He wouldn't have minded if Nick said no, really. That's more for him. He watches a little, because it doesn't look like that went down easy.

"Heh. There was a time... I fought against them, at Culloden. But after a while, all the alliances against greater evils, all the wars, it seems petty to care." His comment about sassenach was mostly a joke.

[det-debrabant.livejournal.com]

It didn't but it's at least something to drink. He seems fine now though.

"It does." Nick glances up at the sky briefly. "War still brings out the worst of us, though, even if we have good intentions."

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

"There's probably a limit on how many wars one person is really meant to see." He rubs at his jaw, thoughtful.

[det-debrabant.livejournal.com]

"Probably." There's something in the way he says it, that sounds uncertain and distracted. His mind is wandering to how LaCroix seemed to thrive on war, and the many battlefields he visited to take advantage of the wounded, even after Nick began to protest such behavior.

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

Connor eyes him quietly, but he knows that look. All immortals past a century start to get that way, once in a while, and most learn to recognize it even sooner from their first teachers. He drinks a little, looks over his sword, catches his breath and lets Nick get lost in memory for a few minutes.