Never Falter (Nolan/Olivia)

[*]

The vibrations echo up the wooden pole. The sound of the staff hitting the mat doesn't go on for long, but the grip on the staff by her hands remains ever strong. So elegantly posed, one leg crouched underneath her body, supporting her, is accentuated by the length of her other stretched out. Her eyes remain as still as a statue upon the end of the pole and her ability to remain as still as possible would make one think that she were turned to stone. Three tiny breaths, inhaled at a rapid speed, and exhaled slowly, the girls dance began again. Grunts of power push through her lips at rapid speed. Her arms bending very lightly as the glorified staff made impressive circles around her head. With each dip of her body, the staff looked as if it were on a machine, a windmill of sorts, to never end the circular path that she draws. Perfection is so evident that the weapon seems to be not only attached to her right hand, but only an extention to something she might have been born with. Slowly, her actions slow down and the staff comes near her side then prostrate on the ground as the wooden pole falls from her grasp. A slight jerk from her hand has her eyesight falling upon her palm and the dark line left behind from the aged peice of splintering wood. "Damn." She mutters as she immediately tries to pick at the embedded splinter in the palm of her hand. Her concentration no longer at the task at hand, but instead upon her own well being. As surprising as it is, the tough skin on her palm split away just enough for the fragment of wood to penetrate her skin. With it, the difficulty to get the intruding thing out. "You've got to be kidding me?"

[Artemis]

It never failed to amaze him what some of these kids were capable of.

Normally, Nolan would have avoided the Career Training Center, for multiple reasons. While he had nothing against parents wanting their children to be able to survive if they were chosen as Tribute (Brody had attended himself), he didn't much care for the 'win or nothing' mentality. He'd spent years trying to drill it into his son's head that there was room for sportsmanship in using his fists, his feet and --specifically in the O'Rourke family's case-- the sword and shield.

But now that Brody was a medal-winning Olympian (his chest swelled with pride at the thought) and the word had gotten out that his old man had been his teacher, it had become impossible to ignore the flood of requests for his presence at the training center. Nolan had agreed, only on the condition that it would be part time and on his own schedule. They had grumbled, and they had tried to negotiate, but had given in to his demands.

So here he was.

If he was being honest with himself, Nolan could admit that it was sort of fun falling back into the teacher role... Though it had been punctuated more than once by the occasional instructor who wanted to go toe-to-toe with the 'old guy'. Nolan had been swarmed by Careers in training when one such instructor, stung by Nolan's refusal, had insinuated doing something obscene to his son to get a rise out of him.

Nolan had KO'ed him with a swift one-two punch.

Now he was hiding from the overzealous future Careers wanting to learn to do the same down at the weapons mat where a very petite brunette girl was sparring using a staff against an instructor. She was exceptionally graceful with it, but when the weapon was still he could see that it was old and had taken a great deal of abuse; the match seemed prematurely over when it dropped from her hand, a large sliver of wood embedded in her hand. Nolan sighed, standing up from the sidelines and walking over to her.

"Let me see." He said gently, taking her hand in his to assess the damage.

The girl was tiny, barely more than half Nolan's size, and his hand practically enveloped hers; the sliver was embedded deep in her palm, but not so much that a steady hand and a first aid kit couldn't get it out.

"C'mon. Lets get you fixed up."

bb7d00 - Nolan
ddf347 - Olivia

[*]

With the wooden staff discarded precariously by her feet, the instructor in front of her only stares at her without a sound. The dark haired beauty, whose forehead is prickled with sweat beads don't even take note when the dropletts fall down from her forehead, making a line down to her chin. Instead, her train of thought is distinctly pointed toward the large fragment of wood in her hand. With fingernails pushing against the skin in a harsh manner, the foreign object is refusing to move. It has her so occupied that the presence of another, other than that of her instructor in front of her, is not even noticed. "Revenue, we're not done here." His voice protrudes through her mind, breaking her concentration when a tiny speck of blook appears in the area that she's trying to push the splinter out of. "Let me see." His deep, yet ever so gentle voice, brings her eyesight upward to the new voice. It wasn't the same tone as the person she was just sparring in front of and who was still standing in one spot waiting for her to pick up her staff to continue. His hand takes hers and for a moment, her hand disappeared within his huge hand as brought closer for his inspection. Medic? "Damn staffs falling apart. Guess another wrap of tape is in order." Comes her sudden voice, so meek and small, yet not without a biting tone out of a natural way. She's particularly annoyed with the fact that her weapon is causing her a slight bit of pain, but the man in front of her seems just as irritated that she stopped. "C'mon. Lets get you fixed up." Is there any way out of his grasp? Not that she would try to, as she don't fight against him at all. She lets him see her hand. Her stance stays still the entire time because his hand is gentle. His tone is calm. With a quick head nod, she don't fight him and pulls her hand out of his. "Are you some sort of medic or something? It's just a splinter." She says, and brings her hand up to look at it again to see the damage its done. The small speck of blood still seeps through it slowly and she wipes at it. "Hang on." She stops in her step and turns back to where her staff is still laying on the ground. With a quick motion, she collects it as if it meant everything to her. In every way possible, it does. She returns to the man's side with the staff in the opposite hand, keeping it close to her person. "Got any good remedies from keeping this happening again?"

[Artemis]

Nolan shot a look over his shoulder at the instructor the girl (Revenue, apparently) had been sparring with; the man was barely older than his son, and his attitude shriveled under the older man's gaze. They were Careers, certainly, but they were kids. They were allowed to take a break and worry about themselves every once and a while.

He turned his attention back to the girl, making no attempt to hold into her hand as she pulled it away from him.

"Are you some sort of medic or something? It's just a splinter."

"No," He admits, watching her go to retrieve her damaged staff "But I've been patching scrapes and the like for my son for longer than you've been alive, dear."

Longer, even, if his catalogue of scars was anything to go by; this was a sliver, in any case. She came back with the staff, absolutely dwarfed standing next to him; Nolan wouldn't guess her to be any taller than 5 foot.

"Got any good remedies from keeping this happening again?"

"A few."

Nolan took her to one of the benches where a handful of Careers were loitering around or resting between cycles, taking the first aid kit out from under it (they had them everywhere, thankfully) and popping it open, digging around for tweezers. Thankfully, even at his age Nolan's eyesight had remained intact; he took the girl's hand in his again, gently coaxing the sliver out of her hand with his thumb so he'd be able to pull it with the tweezers.

"Well, if you can't replace it, there should be some athletic tape that will hold it together until you can retire it."

bb7d00 - Nolan
ddf347 - Olivia

[*]

The brunette's main concern was to gather up the old, splintering wooden staff from the ground. Its purpose in life was to accompany her where ever she went, and if it wasn't on her person, then something had to be seriously wrong. It was part of her in ways that no one could ever grasp the concept as to why. Though, not many even asked in the first place, nor was she the type to just come out with the reason anyways. As it was, she tightened her grip on it as she followed the man near one of the benches. She sat next to him. Her eyes once again studying him as he brought out the first aid kit that lay tucked away underneath the bench. With her hand laid palm up, she waited for him to find the device he would be needing to get the foreign peice of debris from her hand. With steady hands, he worked his thumbnail gently against her calloused and the rough skin of her hand. As dainty as she may look on the outside, her tiny hands tell another story of hard work and hours of practice. "Ouch..." She teases to mimic pain just as the edge of the spliter pokes deeper into the skin when he tries to remove it. Only her face doesn't match the word. She watches with interest and curiosity. She seemed completely fine with the process that the man was proceeding to deal with. "If you have to, a pin or needle won't hurt to get it out since it isn't budging. Don't worry, I don't cry." She flashes a grin to him. "Well, if you can't replace it, there should be some althletic tape that will hold it together until you can retire it." "Retire it? What? My staff? Are you nuts? This thing is never being replaced unless fire turns it to ash or someone has the audacity to steal it. Neither of which is ever going to happen to it, I assure you on that one. I think Saba will just have to become nothing but a staff of athletic tape." She pushes her voice out a little more than what she gave him at first. The meek and tiny voice slightly disappearing for a tone more likely to defend someone that might be her best friend.

[Artemis]

Nolan apologized softly as he tried to work the sliver out of her hand; it was poking out from under the skin ever so slightly, but not enough that the decidedly blunt tweezers would be able to pull it out. Brody had come home with much worse; that boy had been fearless from an early age. Climbing trees, picking up his father's sword, and punching above his weight class getting into scraps with other older Careers. And now that he was a Peacekeeper, well... for his own sanity, he didn't really want to know what his son got up to dealing with the scum of humanity.

"If you have to, a pin or needle won't hurt to get it out since it isn't budging. Don't worry, I don't cry."

He smiled a little; Revenue (what was her first name, anyway?) was certainly a precocious young thing. She reminded him a little of his wife.

"Just bear with me." He replied patiently, "This isn't my first rodeo, dear."

He suspicions were thoroughly confirmed at her reaction to his suggestion of retiring her staff, as if the idea was so abhorrent she couldn't contemplate it.

"Retire it? What? My staff? Are you nuts? This thing is never being replaced unless fire turns it to ash or someone has the audacity to steal it. Neither of which is ever going to happen to it, I assure you on that one. I think Saba will just have to become nothing but a staff of athletic tape."

"Alright, no offense meant." Nolan said soothingly.

He didn't look up from tending to her hand, finally starting to coax the sliver out of the girl's palm.

"In my family," He explained, "Giving your weapon a name gives it a personality, a soul. It's no longer a tool; it's wielded like an extension of the self, but it becomes your friend, your comrade. And in exchange, it gives you its loyalty; rather than break your comrade down until it can no longer fight, you retire it with dignity."

While Nolan was keeping his 'patient' preoccupied with his explanation, he gently pulled the sliver from her hand, setting aside the tweezers and offending piece of wood to press a piece of gauze damp with disinfectant to the bead of blood forming at the site.

"I'm curious where you got the name Saba from?"

bb7d00 - Nolan
ddf347 - Olivia

[*]

"Alright, no offence meant." Had she said something wrong for him to say that? Perhaps, she was a little over zealous about the topic of retiring her favorite weapon, but for him to say that? She noted the cool tone of his voice as he kept working with the splinter. Ever so often, her gaze would wander off to somewhere else in the gym, but it would always end up going back to the task at hand, that being her hand, to be precise. Gentle, even breaths escape her mouth waiting for the moment that he would finally releive her of that splinter. There had been times when she would have left the splinter in for a day or two and it would always get to the point that she'd have to dig it out. Pain never bothered her, but to deal with something so trivial? At least she wasn't burdened with the task to pull it out herself at the moment. No, she was lucky enough to have the hand of the man in front of her deal with such a delicate operation. "...Giving your weapon a name gives it a personality, a soul. It's no longer a tool; it's wielded like an exxtension of the self, but it becomes your friend, your comrade..." With furrowed brows, she suddenly becomes very interested in the reasonings behind what he is saying. The concentration between her brows tells all as if she's hanging on to his every word and if she were to miss one, then the world would come crashing down and sever the staff she hold dear into three peices. Without even noticing, the sliver of wood is both coaxed and pulled from her hand. She only notices when he quits pushing and pinching the skin and the topical disinfectant is placed against her hand. The tiny amount of sting that the solution creates only manages to bring her back to the present. "I'm curious where you got the name Saba from?" The girl merely shrugs to the guy. The gauze being pressed against her hand is kept there for longer than she thought, but maybe it was just to keep her by his side long enough to explain the need to know the name of her weapon. "No clue. You can't really ask a nine year old why she names a wooden staff, Saba and then expect her to remember the reason six years later. It was a dark time back then. The name just kinda was there." She gently takes the gauze away from the man in front of her, wiping againt the tiny spot that still looks red but without the liquid forming outside the puncture wound. "Got a bandaid in that thing?" Already, her minicule hand goes to reach into the kit, but finding the bandaid would require two hands to unzip the pouch to retrieve the bandage. "Would you mind, sir? Hey? Mind if I ask you what your name is? You know, since you've not only pulled me away from sir, never-take-a-break, but you've been kind enough to act like a medic for something as silly as a splinter." Once again, she presses the gauze against her hand for a few more seconds. "You new around here? I've not seen you train around here?"

[Artemis]

The girl merely shrugs when he asks how she decided to name her staff, brushing it off as some childish decision made in some dark place; Nolan knew his own upbringing and the life he'd given Brody at home was better than most, but it was hard to imagine anyone wanting to hurt their children. It did sort of explain the strong will for someone so young; just fifteen, apparently.

"Got a bandaid in that thing?" She asked, poking through the first aid kit as Nolan got up to throw away the gauze wrapped around the sliver he'd just pulled from her hand, struggling to open it before handing it back with an almost sheepish look. "Would you mind, sir?"

"Not at all."

"Hey? Mind if I ask you what your name is?" She asked as he peeled open the bandage and smoothed it out over her palm, "You know, since you've not only pulled me away from Sir Never-take-a-break, but you've been kind enough to act like a medic for something as silly as a splinter."

"Nolan." He replied, letting go of the girl's hand and neatly putting away the first aid supplies and returning the kit to its place under the bench. "Or 'old man' according to some of your instructors."

To be fair, he had 10-15 years or more on most of his new 'coworkers', but even at 47 years old Nolan was no slouch; Brody still lost or tied the majority of their sparring matches, whether it was with fists and feet or swords and shields. Youth was an advantage, but there was no substitute for experience, something Nolan had in spades.

"What about you?" He asked conversationally, easily leaning against the back of the bench and regarding his new companion, "Unless you'd rather I just called you Miss Revenue?"

"You new around here? I've not seen you train around here?"

Nolan couldn't help it, he laughed a little imagining how he was going to explain why he was here. Any one of his friends and coworkers could say without hesitation that talking about his wife and son were his favorite subjects, and it was difficult not to brag when he was so very proud of both of them.

"Sort of," He started, looking out at the training center and watching some of the sparring matches going on at various places on the floor, "It's been a while since I've been here. But after my son mentioned in his Olympics interview that I trained him, the Training Center wouldn't leave me alone asking if I'd come in as an instructor."

He looked at the girl next to him.

"Fancy yourself a boxer or a swordswoman perhaps?"

bb7d00 - Nolan
ddf347 - Olivia

[*]

Having the kindness of a stranger she'd just met was mezmorizing, to say the least. In her own home life, she only dealt with seclusion or anger. Rarely was there ever happiness and laughter just never occured. Today, seemed different as for once, a true grin spread across her face when the man smoothed the bandage over her palm and released her from his care. She flexed her fingers, testing the limitiations with the tiny wound covered. "Nolan. Or 'old man' according to some of your instructors." Again, something sparked inside of her a ray of amusement as she let out what sounded like a form of a chuckle. It didn't last but just a mere second, but the moment felt like a lifetime. "That's cute. I think I like that. Old man... Kidding. I have more respect for someone who treats me with respect, Nolan. At least you deserve to be called what your mother gave you." For her, it seemed almost casual how he leaned back against the bench as if he were already tuckered out from doing that small medic job on her hand. A question arose though for her to answer. "What about you? Unless you'd rather I just called you Miss Revenue?" She shakes her head and voices her opinion out loud. "No! Too much association with... let's just say, my identity is taken away when my trainers think it's cute to refer me to someone else. Olivia will suffice, if you please." She states with a harshness in her voice. Without waiting on him, she stands and takes hold of her staff again, looking to the point on the wood where it splintered off and left the fragment in her hand. It's then that she heavily sighs because as she surveys the pole, it's clear that the years and beating is taking it's toll. "Sort of. It's been a while since I've been here. But after my son mentioned in his Olympics interview that I trained him, the training center wouldn't leave me alone asking if I'd come in as an instructor." Her interest peaked. So much, that she takes her sights off her staff and looks at him with some sort of giddy expression. "Your son was in the olympics? I don't pay attention to the names, but the faces I'd remember. What was his sport? I might have watched it unless it was something like swimming or dance or whatever it is that all those other girls do. Fencing? It had to be an exciting event..." "Fancy yourself a boxer or a swordswoman perhaps?" She shakes her head with earnest. "Neither. I usually stick to the staff. But don't think I"m weak at all. I've had my fair share of fist fights. Plenty of those. Why? You wanna try to spar with little ole me in the ring?" A cheeky grin appears on her face like never before. It would seem as if for the first time she were actually enjoying herself with this older man in front of her. "If so, it'll give me a reason to get away from sir never-take-a-break. It'd be nice. You wanna tell him or should I?"

[Artemis]

Nolan rolled his eyes in jest that his new companion seemed to like the idea of calling him 'old man'; Brody only ever called him that when he was joking, but some of his fellow instructors had taken it to heart. Most of them meant well enough, though; he'd only been here for about a week, and already it had become a term of endearment. Well... most of the time. The instructor with the filthy mouth had been the exception, but then again he was the first person to even blatantly disrespect him.

"That's cute. I think I like that. Old man..."

He pretended to be hurt by her remark, laying a hand over his heart and putting on an exaggerated expression of offense.

"Why does everyone insist that I'm old? I'm forty-seven, just a young goddess." Nolan replied, fighting the urge to smile; he'd made that joke at McKenna when he'd turned forty, and she had laughed harder at that than he'd seen her laugh for a long time.

"Kidding. I have more respect for someone who treats me with respect, Nolan. At least you deserve to be called what your mother gave you."

Fair enough. Though Miss Revenue (Olivia) seemed much more insistent on her first name to fray away from any number of implications attached to her family name; Nolan could only imagine what would drive a daughter to want to distance herself from her family, especially at such a young age. It explained a lot though; she was fifteen, looked maybe thirteen, but her boldness and the way she carried herself weighed with many more years than she had.

"Your son was in the Olympics?" Olivia asked. Did Nolan detect a hint of excitement? "I don't pay attention to the names, but the faces I'd remember. What was his sport? I might have watched it unless it was something like swimming or dance or whatever it is that all those other girls do. Fencing? It had to be an exciting event..."

"Brody was in boxing and wrestling," He replied, "He just took home the silver medal in wrestling, tomorrow he's supposed to have his final boxing match for the bronze."

Nolan had seen the disappointment in his son's eyes when the young man from District 1 had been declared the gold medalist, but he'd been impossibly proud of Brody's taking it like a champ and shaking his opponent's hand at the end of the event. It would seem that all his years of trying to instill sportsmanship in his ferociously competitive son had finally paid off. He shifted his weight to pull his wallet from his back pocket, where he always kept a handful of pictures of his wife and son. He was sentimental, certainly, but after the cave-in that had caused him to meet McKenna, they had something of a shadow behind them; god forbid he were ever to be involved in another, or trapped inside the mountain, he wanted the reminder of what he had to live for.

He pulled out one picture that he'd had to laminate from years of wear; the edges under the plastic were worn in the spots where he always held it in his hands, and there was a white smudge along the bottom half of the picture from the quarry dust that had coated Nolan's hands during the infamous cave-in a couple of years ago. He'd come away from the collapsed tunnel unscathed, but had spent the better part of two days helping dig out his friends and coworkers, pausing only to look at his wife and son's faces when he needed a second wind. It was a picture from Brody's graduation from the Peacekeeper Academy; they had many pictures of it, but this one had been an impromptu photo and had properly captured the O'Rourke family. Eighteen-year-old Brody was standing with his mother to his left, his father to his right, his golden hair cropped short in that signature military style and proudly wearing his badge on his chest. Nolan couldn't remember what he had said, but in the picture it showed McKenna with a smile on her face looking affectionately at Brody while his son ducked his head laughing helplessly, blue eyes lit up with mirth.

"Look familiar?" He asked, showing Olivia the picture, "It's a little old and his hair is longer, but otherwise he looks much the same."

bb7d00 - Nolan
ddf347 - Olivia

[*]

It was as if the magic word had been said. The olympics had given the dark haired girl something to talk about. At least, with her new companion, she wouldn't be thought weird to only be interested in only the exciting sport events. Her eyes seems to spark something anew about her when Nolan had mentioned the two sports that he was in. Immediately, her attention was off her staff and placed into a casual position beside her. "...boxing and wrestling. He just took home the silver medal in wrestling, tomorrow he's suppose to have his final boxing match for the bronze." A smile graced her lips, from one ear to the other for a split second after realizing who this man might be. "Seriously? That's pretty cool. Lucky me. I got you for a medic." She teased him slightly, pretending to be a fangirl and hold her hand to her heart when he started to fish around for something in his wallet. Back to her normal appearance, she instantly leaned over closer to Nolan to get a look at the picture he pulled out. "Hmmph" came her first reaction to the picture. "You guys look happy." She says with a bit of hurt in her voice. The sight of the smile on the mother's face and Brody's reaction was something to be jealous of. That picture almost dipicts her family as well, with her out of the picture; just like normal. Without asking, she gently pulls the picture from his hand to get a better look at the guy and slowly, but surely, she began to see the resemblance of the guy she had watched on screen. "Yup. That's him. Though, this picture makes him look sweet. On screen, he's a bad as... umm, he's one heck of a fighter." She hands the picture back to him and shakes her head. "That'll be me in a few years, I'll tell you that. Couple more years of practice, and you'll be seeing me there." With a quick glimmer in her eye, she cocked her head to the side. "You training anyone anymore?"

[Artemis]

"You guys look happy."

Nolan didn't miss the hint of unhappiness in Olivia's voice at seeing the picture. He repressed the urge to sigh, not knowing exactly what inspired such a response from her but knowing all he needed to; she was probably unused to the kind of closeness that tied the O'Rourke family together.

They were especially glowing in this photo. Brody's graduating the Academy had been one of the proudest days of Nolan's life; it was outdone only by when Brody had been born and when McKenna had agreed to marry him. He knew for his son, though, it was his first major milestone to becoming his own man.

He let her take the photo from his hands, watching her for a moment as she studied Brody's face. That kid had grown up so fast... in the picture, he was very obviously a teenager with his short hair and still-boyish good looks. The Peacekeepers had only had Brody for a few years, but lately he'd looked older than his twenty-one years; it worried Nolan, but Brody was still as vibrant and strong as he always was; he'd let it go, for now.

"Yup. That's him. Though, this picture makes him look sweet. On screen, he's a bad as... umm, he's one heck of a fighter."

Nolan laughed, taking the picture back as she handed it to him.

"Brody is sweet. Just don't tell him I told you that, he likes people to think he's a hardass."

Brody would never admit it aloud, but that boy had a kind heart; he'd seen it during the same cave-in that left the smudge on that photo. His son had worked bravely and tirelessly to help dig the buried workers out of the mountain and had refused to stop until Nolan had made him lie down and sleep before he collapsed.

"That'll be me in a few years, I'll tell you that. Couple more years of practice, and you'll be seeing me there."

"I'll be counting on it."

"You training anyone anymore?"

Nolan looked around; the handful of Careers that had been haranguing him to teach them the punch he'd used to KO that instructor had either found something else to do, or were hovering nearby hoping to catch him alone for one-on-one training.

"Not presently." He replied, "What say you then, boxing or swordsmanship?"

bb7d00 - Nolan
ddf347 - Olivia

[*]

"Brody is sweet. Just don't tell him I told you that, he likes people to think he's a hardass." With the picture taken from her hand, she gives him a few, short nods of her head and shrugging her shoulders. "Don't know if I'll ever get to meet him face to face unless you arrange it some how?" She suggests, putting that little hint in there for a future meeting with his son that she had seen on tv. Maybe, just maybe, her luck would change enough that she might be able to be trained by an earned metal's father. "I'll be counting on it." A first! Someone actually that spiked some sort of interest in something she wanted and possibly in the future without the negativity that usually followed by words of a dream. A smile crept upon her gentle youthful features as she dips her head hiding the grin. As for asking him if he was training anyone, the responce she got was slow. "If not, that's fine. I dare not bother you..." She started. She watched as his gaze was off her in a matter of seconds and glancing around. Surely, in her mind, she figured he was trying to let her down like anyone else would have. She had a hard enough time trying to convince sir never-take-a-break to mentor her just twice a week. Just when all hope was lost, his deep, soothing voice seemed to break the ice. "Not presently." A flutter of hope crept back into her soul, sparking a tiny bit of joy within her. With a solemn face, though, it would appear as if that news didn't interest her in the least. "What say you then, boxing or swordsmanship? "You are going to train me?" The gentle part in her voice comes out as merely a child in denial. Her eyebrows even expressing the shock, but in a playful format. "Well, considering you've trained your own son in boxing... might we start with that, good sir?" She stands without another thought, and extends her right hand out for him. "Challenge accepted. Now, to get the needed gloves. Can't be hurting my new trainer two minutes in." She chimes out with a cocky grin and tilting her head upward to look at him with pure enthusiasm.

[Artemis]

Nolan couldn't help himself but chuckle a little at Olivia's apparent eagerness to meet his son.

"I'll see what I can do. He'll be flattered that he has fans."

To be more honest, he wouldn't just be flattered; it would probably stoke Brody's ego to the point of making him cocky that his performance in the Olympic had won him the attention of fans. Oh well... he might need it, knowing how disappointed his son probably was that he didn't take home the gold medal.

"You are going to train me?"

Nolan smiled.

"You sound so surprised," He replied, "What, did some instructor put up a fight doing their job?"

But he wasn't about to go on that tangent; though it was apparent that Olivia was trying to keep up a cool facade talking to him, the excitement that he was willing to train him was definitely there.

"Well, considering you've trained your own son in boxing... might we start with that, good sir?"

"Very well."

Nolan stood up, beckoning for Olivia to follow him; some of the Careers loitering around followed them to the boxing ring, probably in the hope of a turn with the new instructors themselves. He opened up the locker, pulling out a pair of suitably-small boxing gloves for his new student and retrieving his own, helping Olivia lace up her gloves and catching a glance of the instructor he'd punched out earlier, just coming around where Nolan had left him sprawled out on one of the benches at the sideline. If he hadn't figured out not to insult Nolan's family after the first offense, his student and spectators were going to get a very different type of lesson.

"First and foremost," He started, "The most important part of boxing is the stance."

He shifted his weight up to the balls of his feet, fists coming up like a reflex; Nolan had been fighting longer than these kids had been alive, it was a nearly impossible habit to break.

"Keep your weight on the balls of your feet, knees bent," He coached, demonstrating with a few feinted punches and moving easily around to follow through with his fists. "Keep your balance in the center, don't favor one leg over the other."

Nolan lowered his fists slightly, still bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"The stance is the most important for several reasons. A flexible fighter is harder to throw off-balance, so don't forget to keep your knees bent; keeping your weight on the balls of your feet allows you to retreat, advance and dodge more quickly and effectively." He demonstrated another punch, this time in slow motion to emphasize how his entire body rotated into the punch. "It also allows you to draw kinetic energy from the ground to add power to your punches... when your form is correct."

He lowered his fists entirely, dropping back to let his weight rest on his full foot.

"Show me your stance."

bb7d00 - Nolan
ddf347 - Olivia

_{Fight Science FTW}

[*]

The cocky grin and words are totally ignored by her new mentor. What she didn't know was that if this boxing match would be a one time deal or something more than she was expecting. Whatever the amount of time she was going to be given, she wasn't going to waste it, that was for sure, because from one second to the next, she seemed to take off in spirit and followed him to the locker where he helped to lace up her gloves and get her prepared for a roaring round of boxing. The smile was ever present on her face. It was too good to be true, but she tried to hide those features of excitement. "First and foremost, the most important part of boxing is the stance." He went on to show her a few moves, and as he did, she tried to mimic what he was doing. Very lightly, she sprung to the balls of her feet a few times before standing normally, feeling almost like an oddball for the new training. Boxing was definately not her thing, and feeling out of place was new as well. Still, her honey, brown eyes studied his movements and watched as he bounced back and forth between feet. Even the amount of bend in his knees and she also followed suit to bend as she tried execute the perfect stance. "The stance is the most important for several reasons. A flexible fighter is harder to throw off-balance, so don't forget to keep your knees bent." She nodded to each informative statement he said and in return, did as he said. She bent her knees and kept the weight off her heels. Even when he punched, she reacted slightly in case she was suppose to but the glove got no where near her. "Would you ever kick in boxing?" Her question seemed liable but a little off topic. He wasn't showing her anything but her stance and maybe to punch. It never hurts to ask though as she's found out. "Show me your stance." He beckons for her to repeat what he's told her. Since she was already mimicking what he's shown her already, she shifts her weight from left to right as if she were ready to bounce away at the first punch to her face. "Like this?" She questions as she suddenly jabs outward and up, an uppercut to be exact, and then bringing it back to her side. The smile is there on her face as if she were proud of what she just did. "What else you got, Nolan?" "Revenue!" Her name is suddenly called out and she turns immediately to see the trainer she had before when the splinter dug deep into her palm. "We're not done here. You and I are still on the clock for another thirty minutes, or do you want me to drop you as a student?" Stopping, she glances from Nolan to the other trainer, Bryan, and back to Nolan. Torn between two choices, she's at a loss at what to do. "No. But can I spar with Nolan, then get back to training with you? It shouldn't take long. I just want to try something new." He crossed his arms in front of him, shaking his head. "Revenue, you are my student. Not his. Now, I advise you if you want to continue training with me, then you get your ass over here and quit fooling around. You can play pretty little boxer later. I mean it. NOW! You're lucky that I'm even training you." His face contorted with anger and his brows furrowed. "Sorry, Nolan... another time, I hope?" She immediately brings her hands up to mess with the ties on her left glove.