Description: Target: Expensive looking Beach House. Obstacle: Owner of said house. Alias: Amelia. Summary: Drake doesn't take kindly to intruders but Ayame gets the drop on him at first, managing to not be a pushover. While she has nothing but trouble in mind for him when he gets in her way, the model wrestler ends up being far more congenial when he manages to thwart the wouldbe thief. It appears to help her cause that she's cute.
Blasted Fall! No, seriously, Fall sucks. Sure, it's colorful. Yeah, it's cool out. But it's also when things go from really comfortable outside to all of a sudden demanding a change in dress code. Worse still, the beaches start to become less appealing in the Fall. Today is a nice enough day out, honestly. There's a crisp breeze keeping the waters rather chilled, but the sun is unobstructed by clouds above, thus the sands are warm and.. well.. whenever the wind isn't blowing, it's kind of nice.
So here Drake is, trying to salvage what bits of beach activity he still can. Sure, not many people are milling about the shores (see the aforementioned "Fall Sucks" campaign), but Drake doesn't necessarily -need- people around spectating him while he does a workout. He's only just finished his lengthy jog about the area, so after a moment of being inside, he's now emerging with a beach towel slung over a shoulder - to keep from getting too gritty working out.
The model pauses on the hardwood porch of his simple, but charming two-story house. He glances aside to the vacant rocking chair - a new purchase of his, bought solely for the quaintness of it - then looks across to the other side of the porch to glance over the condition of his suspended two-seater swing-chair dealie. Satisfied that the objects haven't eroded or mysteriously disappeared since his jog, the slender professional wrestler starts down the few steps leading out onto the sand, sandals leaving oddly-shaped footprints.
The nice thing about beach homes is that owners often get complacent. There tends to be a 'small town' feel to beach-side communities, as if something terrible like robberies just don't happen there. It leads to doors being left unlocked, security systems either disabled or non-existant, or windows left open during the day to allow the crisp, refreshing sea breeze to permeate the house. All in all, an inviting target for the unscupulous likes of one Ayame.
She had already been scoping out the home for a while before Drake steps outside. Creeping around the base of the walls, trying to peek inside windows and check them for security systems, squinting through glass to spot any motion detectors, and the like. But when she hears the front door open, the girl slips to the front corner to glance carefully around at Drake, watching to see if he locks the door and if he really is going to head off on a jog.
A quiet smile settles in as she realizes she recognizes the model and professional fighter for who he is. Domino. A fighter with a pretty good record and some notoriety. That means a high likelyhood of valuable property inside the abode. The girl is patient. Waiting for Drake to hit the sand before moving over to the porch and giving the front door a shot, testing the handle to see if it's unlocked. Biting her lower lip with anticipation at what she expects to be a great haul.
Man, is she ever in for a big surprise.
But first of all, the door is locked. It's one of those button locks, which can be pressed from the inside and just tugged shut behind someone. Sure, this will sometimes lead to locking yourself out of your own home every now and again, but hey. It's convenient. And celebrities are all about convenience.
Fortunately for Ayame, Drake hasn't noticed her. He's just gonna go out and have a merry occasion on the sand by himself. He is, however, not going for a jog. That's already been accomplished. No, when he sets out the beach towel, he settles upon it in push-up position - except using just the one hand. And thus begins the workout, his side towards his home, not yet thinking to glance around. He's only just settled down, after all.
The door is tested carefully, not rattling it or trying to force it when she finds that it is well and truly locked. Drat. It's only when she makes that discovery that she realizes that she jumped the gun a bit. The man hasn't gone so far as she had expected, and in her eagerness to get inside, she had tossed away some of her patience and missed the fact that the muscular model was merely engaging in another portion of his exercise routines.
Glancing over her shoulder, Ayame retreats off the porch quickly, slipping back around the corner. He might catch notice of a black and red blur out of the corner of his eyes - a cost for her moment of carelessness for which the girl is already chiding herself.
No matter. There's more than one way into homes, after all. Back doors to lockpick, windows to test for locks, and so on. Now that Drake is busy with pushups, she can be a bit more aggressive in testing the rest of the house for security, as long as she stays away from the front yard, of course. "Hn," the girl ponders, eying the second floor of the house for any places where she can climb up and stand on the outside. People tend to be more lax about upper floor windows after all. Or maybe a balcony?
Drake starts to glance around, and he does indeed catch the blur of movement. He pauses his repetitions, left arm supporting the majority of his weight, and he eyes his porch curiously. Paparazzi? Maybe. Adoring fan? Possibly. But both of those should know by now that he's a highly personable, friendly guy - they tend to just come right up to him. So this strikes him as a little odd, maybe even a little disconcerting. His meddling in the criminal affairs of Metro City and Southtown may have made him a target for badguy shenanigans.
Drake pushes himself to his feet and saunters over to his porch to investigate things there, looking for something out of order, but he finds nothing. Not even the antiquated seats have been disturbed, so far as he can tell. So with a quirked obsidian eyebrow, he descends the porch and starts to circle 'round.
There is, in fact, a back door behind the house, though it tends to remain locked at all times. If one is skilled enough, one might be able to climb the faux logs that make up the exterior of the house - but there's nowhere to stand outside of the second floor. As for the windows.. well.. those tend to not be locked. Drake -does- have a weakness for natural air over an AC unit.
Ayame hns as she takes in the make up of the abode. Slipping in through windows can be the best way to go - typically quiet and unexpected, though it's a bit harder to tell what one is getting into until fully inside and that can be risky. She tests the back door, a sudden urgency in her actions as she becomes aware of the sound of another moving along the outside of the building.
Did she rouse his suspicion? Did he notice something? Is it someone else entirely? Knowingly targeting the home of a fighter is a bit more high risk than she tends to go for. Usually she picks on people that can't fight back as well. And right now she's beginning to suspect that she should run for it. With this much of a lead she could get far enough away before he rounded the corner...
Mouth set in a thin line, she slips back to the loose window she found a moment ago and lifts it up, glancing back toward the corner she expects someone to come around any moment now... No time to think this through further, she decides, and quickly clambers up and into the opening, feet disappearing through the window as she dives in, hoping that she doesn't land in a planter or something awkward on the other side!
Bonk.
Right onto the drier is where she's likely to land. Either the drier or the oven. Either way, the home has its simplistic charm - much like on the outside - and doesn't really proclaim any objects of notorious wealth. Not in this room, anyway. Not unless she wants to lug out his washing machine and drier.
But Drake caught noises as he rounds the corner, and he was pretty certain that window was shut earlier. He prefers warmth with a cool breeze, not temperate with a cold breeze. So Drake is now thinking his house has been infiltrated. But does he rush up to the window to peer inside? No. He turns tail and runs... right around the house and to the front door, where he proceeds to unlock and open it as quietly as he can in hopes of catching the infiltrator.
Erf. The metal appliance was the last thing she wanted to bump into. Clanging thin metal siding does NOT equate to being SNEAKY. Ayame rolls off of the drier to land on her feet, wincing at the less than smooth entrance. She freezes for a long moment, trying to listen to the home owner's actions outside... Hm. He's in a hurry. He knows something's up. Grr. She could leap right back out the window and make a break for it, but... She hates abandoning missions that are only just getting started.
Glancing around quickly, she looks for anything on any shelves over the drier that she can pull off and place atop the appliance, perhaps hoping that Drake will find the object and assume that it just fell off the shelf to create the clanging noise he no doubt heard outside. He probably won't fall for it... but it will buy her a couple of seconds as he puzzles it out for what she has in mind next.
Pulling the laundry room door completely open, Ayame hops, small hands clamping down on the top of the door before she pulls herself the rest of the way up to perch on the top of it, using the ceiling above to hold the precarious position steady. It should give her a good position from which to ambush Drake... Assuming he doesn't decide to bump the door too hard when he comes to inspect the room!
Drake is positive someone's in his home! It's just a matter of surprising them rather than the other way around. The person could be armed, after all, and he really hates that. Primarily if it's edged. Getting cut? It ain't him. Not conducive to modeling. But he just waits at the front door quietly, listening in towards the kitchen area.
And as for Ayame.. she's discovered some detergent! Happy day! Might be worth a couple bucks. But it also works for just sitting there, which it seems to eagerly comply atop the appliance. And ten she goes about her ninja hijinks...
And Drake hears some pretty confusing noises. Some shuffling sounds, a pause, then some other strange sounds... screw this. He's gonna go have a look. Dashing caution to the wind like any good headstrong, cocky teenager, Drake nudges the door shut behind him, pushes the lock-nub, and strolls on into dining area. Amethyst eyes rove about everywhere, searching for where his infiltrator might be hiding. Under the table? Nope. Window's still open... and he hasn't done laundry this week, so what the detergent is doing out, he has no idea. And of course, he looks everywhere but up.
From her perch, Ayame studies Drake's movements carefully. She often thinks professional fighters are fakes. Phonies. Stooges of the media empires that show up, get their licks in, take their hits, get paid, and go home. Oh, sure, there's a few super star fighters that really are incredible... but most? She's skeptical. But seeing Drake in person she begins to wonder. His frame suggests strength and speed, a combination that wouldn't make much sense on a faker.
She can't stay there forever though. He's GONNA notice. Plan B - Test the waters. If he's too tough, she can run for it. If he isn't tough enough, she can subdue him, restrain him, and go about her business right in front of his face. Which only makes it more amusing to her in a malicious way.
When the girl attacks it comes fast. A leap down from on high as she attempts to get her arms around his neck during the drop while also trying to slip behind him. A neck hold submission attack, simple, effective if she can lock it in though. If she cinches the hold, she'll try to pull him down backward so that she can drive her knees into his back and tighten the hold even harder. Not-a-ninja attack!
COMBATSYS: Ayame has started a fight here.
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Ayame 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Drake has joined the fight here.
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Drake 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Ayame
COMBATSYS: Drake fails to counter Medium Throw from Ayame with Solar Eclipse.
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Drake 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Ayame
His door creaks.
Cue dramatic close-up of visage, or an exclamation mark, a-la Metal Gear.
Drake starts to whirl around, and he glimpses his attacker - only slightly, but still - and she manages to get the drop on the surprised model. "Hrk!" He falls back with her, knees getting into his back and he grits his teeth. He can't really -speak- right now, considering the way she has him.. but he doesn't look pleased with this situation at all. His hands lock to her arm, attempting to forcefully pry her off of him.
"Gotcha," comes the whisper into his ear as the merciless girl cinches in that painful hold. Honorless ambushes are the best. She has him tight but when his powerful hand grips onto her arm she begins to realize that she can't hold him like this indefinitely. When it comes to raw strength verses strength, he has an edge she can't quite compete with. And he's probably experienced with these kinds of holds if her knowledge of his fighting career is as accurate as she believes it to be.
"It's better for you if you don't fight back," she warns, releasing his neck and trying to reverse his grip on her arm by twisting to his side, intending to let him drop the rest of the way to the floor if she can while also trying to quickly shift into a different hold - an armbar, attempting to plant her legs over his chest and yank back on the model's gripped limb. Whoever this intruder is, she doesn't seem shy about staying in close against him.
"Struggling is just going to make this worse for you," the girl states through gritted teeth.
COMBATSYS: Ayame successfully hits Drake with Quick Throw.
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Drake 0/-------/----===|-------\-------\0 Ayame
Well, this is just really not working out for Drake. What a poor showing he's making. First he gets ambushed by a plucky villain, then they're outmaneuvering him in wrestling. Wrestling! Absurd! And--
Whoa, that voice was feminine.
Ack! Drake suddenly finds the arm twisted around, then caught in an armbar submission hold. He squints at the attacker's.. well.. what he can see of her for now. Which is pretty much just legs and maybe some arms. But her concern was correct. He -is- skilled in this form of combat. So after only a moment of further struggling, he slips over and works his arm free. But alongside this, he attempts to grab ahold of one of her legs and roll her over onto her front. If successful, he just sits atop her rear and pulls the captured leg up backwards in a boston crab submission hold. "And you are..?," he asks, sounding rather annoyed.
COMBATSYS: Ayame dodges Drake's Fast Throw.
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Drake 0/-------/----===|-------\-------\0 Ayame
Her legs are mostly bare, down to the Dr. Martin boots that she presses against his chest while maintaining the armlock. At a glance, she hardly seems incredibly muscular. There's muscle tone, however, but her emphasis is likely on speed and clever manipulation of the body than raw force. Which works in his favor as he manages to pull his arm from her hold finally in spite her tight grip, "Che," she grunts as he yanks himself free.
He gets that hold on her leg as intended, and even flips her over, lining her up for what would have been a debiliating attack if he had landed it. Such holds are notoriously painful and difficult to escape from after all, especially when one has the strength advantage. But as he goes to sit on her, Ayame reacts in time, kicking with her other foot to turn her on her side so that she can wrest her captured ankle free.
The evasive action doesn't cost her too much, however, as she doesn't take the opportunity to slip out of range but rather finishes rolling onto her back and kicks straight up, those thick soled shoes of her enroute to his stomach. If her foot plants against the man's abdomen, she'll push against him with some force with the intent to send him falling backward - hopefully not into anything too expensive! "Well, as a clue, I'm not some fan!" she replies to his inquiry as to her identity.
COMBATSYS: Drake dodges Ayame's Light Kick.
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Drake 0/-------/----===|-------\-------\0 Ayame
Drake very nearly cinches on the boston crab, but she gets free and leaves him a little annoyed. Slippery bugger. He imagines this is something like trying to wrestle himself. Only if he were a chick, though.
...
As distracting and puzzling as that thought could potentially be, Drake keeps his focus on what's going on. Her feet whiff through the air, slender body twisting aside to cleanly evade them. And once those feet have made no purchase, Drake attempts to get in at the girl's right side on his knees. And once there, his hands lash out for her right leg and right arm, while his right knee sets against her midback, forcing her onto her side. If successful, those captured limbs are yanked back sharply, stretching her body taut and wrenching on the girl's spine. "That was -so- not the right thing to say to me right now!" Word.
COMBATSYS: Drake successfully hits Ayame with Medium Throw.
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Drake 0/-------/----===|==-----\-------\0 Ayame
On her back now, the girl is not quite in a position to get out of the way as Drake slips around her upward kick to drop down at her side. She attempts to roll away, confident in her ability to stay one step ahead of the professional fighter... But he snags a hold of her arm and leg before she gets too far, pulling her back into the painful stretch hold. "A-ya!" she gasps, eyes widening as he stretches her, pressure against her limbs and spine creating a painful combination hold that leaves her hard pressed to do much of anything else.
Gasping, and entirely unable to strike back at him from the compromising position, she falls back on other tricks now. Ayame brings her left arm up to her mouth. A black wrist guard there conceals a trio of kunai, one of which she plucks out between her teeth... Then reclaims a hold of with her left hand.
If he's not careful, he might not even see it coming. A small, sharp object flung over her waist aiming for his chisled side. That thing about not wanting to get cut? Might be a problem right now. Close range might make it harder to avoid than if she had flung it from a distance. On the other hand, an over-the-wrist shot is kind of tricky too. "Let go of me!" she shouts, as if protesting the hold is likely to get him to relent. She started this after all!
COMBATSYS: Ayame successfully hits Drake with Sudden Fling.
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Drake 0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0 Ayame
Drake really has no intention to let go. "What're you doing here? You expect to find something nice'n big to ransack? What kind of idiot-" And then there's a kunai flinging at him, grazing over his side. It gets a quiet yelp from the wrestler, who then turns.. well.. pissed. He's now bleeding a little.
"Oh, HELL no you did not...," he growls.
He relinquishes the hold in favor of trying to just force her down onto her front, whereupon his knee sets to her back to hopefully hold her there. And once there, he aims a hard right hook for the back of her head. Ideally a quick knockout blow, but... well, that kind of thing rarely works in full effect this early in a fight.
COMBATSYS: Ayame fails to interrupt Quick Punch from Drake with Quick Strike.
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Drake 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Ayame
"You have plenty of nice things, I'm sure you won't miss a few," Ayame replies as her little dart hits home, cutting his side. Hardly a mortal wound by any stretch of the imagination, but it seems to have provoked him somewhat. And that seems to be what she has in mind. Get him mad, get him to screw up, get him to do something careless... It just takes one slip for a vicious girl like herself to take advantage of an opening in an opponent's defenses.
As he pushes her face down, Ayame's left hand that has been free the whole time slips into a black, velcro pouch affixed to her belt and withdraws a thin, metal object. With her strange clothing of odds and ends she's stolen and modified, it's anyone's guess at how many weapons she might be pulling out the longer this goes on. A flick of her wrist reveals the metal object to be a shiney butterfly knife. It seems the kunai weren't the only sharp objects the girl has.
Realizing what he's doing, she attempts to squirm lose long enough to strike out at him with that sharp blade and put another cut on him, but his hold is too strong and his knee presses her down, holding her in place for the blow to the back of her head. She may not have been knocked out, but she's getting a taste of floor at the moment, her nose bumped and the back of her head hurting a little. She grits her teeth, finding herself hopelessly stuck at the moment beneath Drake's knee.
Drake decides to capitalize on the situation. He has the girl facedown, presumably pinned, and fairly helpless - at least from appearances. He shifts over atop her back, mounting the young woman. And if caught, his hands link beneath her chin to suddenly and sharply yank her head upright in a camel clutch submission hold. And every second, the stretch tightens further and further - albeit he's relying on his experience to tell him when to stop so as to not outright -kill- the girl.
"You have plenty of nice teeth, too! Hope you won't miss a few of -those-, yourself!"
Well.. err.. Drake -is- a friendly, congenial sort. Honest. She just pressed the wrong buttons, almost at the same time.
COMBATSYS: Ayame blocks Drake's Strong Throw.
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Drake 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Ayame
As Drake shifts positions, Ayame has only a precious few seconds with which to act. She'd goad him on further if she wasn't in the unpleasant situation of being entirely stuck beneath him. That doesn't make for a very good position from which to taunt. As he moves down onto her back, however, the girl gets her left arm up and in the way of his hands that seek to grasp her chin. It doesn't do a lot to keep him from pulling back hard, but she's able to counter act some of the hold by appling her own strength in the opposite direction.
Grunting as she strains to fight against him, Ayame's right hand slips into that velcro'd pouch from where she had drawn the knife with her left hand only... to pull out a second such blade. It takes a lot of effort to pry herself over such that Drake will end up sitting on her stomach if he doesn't try to leap out of the way... But he might have a really good reason to move as the girl tries to viciously slash him with both of the butterfly knives at once, from opposite directions and extremely fast.
If she lands the two slashes, she'll follow up by flipping the weapons around in her hands and swinging back for a second time, this time to deliver to /stabs/ instead of slashes. "You don't have it in you," she declares daringly. "You don't have what it takes to stop someone like me."
COMBATSYS: Ayame successfully hits Drake with Assault and Battery.
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Drake 0/-------/=======|======-\-------\0 Ayame
Drake is content to keep the hold on her until she submits and promises to behave. Why? Because he's a goodguy sort. But it doesn't quite work that way. She's gotten a hand in the way, and she's suddenly twisting over. The blades flash too quickly across his torso and overshirt, cutting into skin and fabric.. and the stabs don't help either. The gashes aren't horribly grotesque, but the model is bleeding now. And he looks none too pleased. She's cutting up on him, delaying his job with each one... and that's almost all he can see right now. He's not even gotten a good look at the person he's trying to mangle.
But her efforts pay off in a way. He jumps up from the girl. And once on his feet, he stomps a heel towards her stomach sharply, with enough force to hopefully get her to double over. And if successful, he reaches down and grabs her by the hair to drag her up to her feet, then lock her head under his left arm. His right hand sets to the hip of her skirt, and he suddenly pulls, attempting to hoist her into a suspended suplex. And once she's stuck in the air, he turns around and drops back, suplexing her against the hard table nearby. Not likely to go through it, but definitely hard enough to hurt.
COMBATSYS: Ayame parries Drake's Combo Throw!
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Drake 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\0 Ayame
The twin slash and stabs fend him off the girl but Ayame doesn't just lie there. She's fast. Distressingly so, it would seem. The moment he's off her, those two knives are dropped to the floor and her hand reaches down to that chain-like belt that was hanging loosely at her waist to press a release on the clasp.
Unfurling the belt out from around her, it becomes clear that the thing is a coiled weapon of its own, the clasp acting as a grip for her to whip it around with. She flicks it upward, smacking against the backside of Drake's leg as he tries to stomp her solidly in the stomach, knocking the strike aside...
And then she's lunging into him, her left hand grabbing hold of the other end of it as Ayame leaps, attempting to wrap the weapon around the man's neck while jumping behind him, with a technique similar to the hold she opened with. Only, this time, instead of her arms around his neck it will be a brutal cable. And rather than pushing her knees into his back she leans back, one booted foot coming up to plant against his lower back as she'll try to bend him back into a painful stretch hold.
"Whenever you're ready to give up I can make the pain stop," the long haired teen hisses through clenched teeth.
COMBATSYS: Drake dodges Ayame's Blackmail EX.
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Drake 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\0 Ayame
Drake's leg is struck and it's knocked askew. His tiled floor reacts with a loud SPAK against the sole of his sandal. Would'a been her stomach, but the selfish girl had to move. Ahwell. His mind stays with the fight, flavored with the bleeding she's caused him, and he catches sight of what she's about to do. So rather than allow the speedy girl to do what she will, he all but blurs out of the way of her assault, ducking beneath the wire before it encloses around his neck. In the next instance, he rises back up to his full height, facing her. He attempts to grab for her wrists to wrench them around behind her back, chain and all, to restrain her. With him still standing in front of her, this puts them pretty much together... which was the idea. His arms around her waist and restraining her wrists, he suddenly pulls the girl in much closer and begins to tighten the smooth, streamlined muscle along his arms. Her midsection is thusly crushed in an unrelenting bearhug against his own midsection, each second crushing her tighter to him. This pretty much puts them face to face, at that.
COMBATSYS: Drake successfully hits Ayame with Blackout.
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Drake 1/------=/=======|=======\==-----\1 Ayame
And once the two are in that close a proximity, Drake finally, -FINALLY- gets a good look at her. And his reaction is to blink. Sure, the arms continue to crush her against him excruciatingly, but he looks almost perplexed. "What the heck? You're -pretty-," he states, eyebrow quirked. "What in the world are you doing attacking me?"
Landing after her failed attempt at getting a hold of him, Ayame whirls around, her left hand releasing from the end of the weapon as she intends to just whip him with the chain instead. That always provokes startled responses from people not quite used to her vicious style of fighting. But the young man proves too fast, getting a grip before the intruder can even retract her arms, allowing him to move in tightly and twist her limbs behind her back. She struggles, trying to squirm free, but then the pressure is laid on and the girl gasps at the crushing pain, brown eyes widened as she's brought face to face with the home owner.
The chain drops from her right hand to clank on the floor as she focuses more on trying to pry her way free than attacking, but to no avail. In close now, she stares back at Drake, mouth contorted from the pain he's inflicting on her back and waist. "I didn't come here to attack /you/," she snaps, sounding annoyed at the compliment even though it draws a faint blush to her cheeks. Sure she's used her looks to con people before, but she isn't used to being complimented in the middle of trying to ruin some guy's day.
"You're just in the way, that's all." She struggles to free herself still, but he has her in a pretty good hold. Her array of weapons aren't much use if she can't move her hands. Which is why she decides to use other parts of her body instead! Leaning her head back, Ayame swings it forward, attempting to headbutt Drake on the noggin while simultaneously bringing her right leg up, knee first. He might get struck in the gut, but if he's unlucky she might end up hitting lower. She isn't aiming too carefully. "Let GO!"
COMBATSYS: Drake counters Fierce Strike from Ayame with Solar Eclipse.
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Drake 1/-----==/=======|=======\====---\1 Ayame
Drake is content to just continue crushing the girl against him, but when she says she didn't come to attack him, he starts to ease up. "So..," he starts slower, apparently starting to come down from his anger. But next thing he knows, her head is swinging at him like a mace. This gets him to release her fully to take a half step back, but the knee lifting was the mistake.
The moment it's raised, Drake loops an arm underneath it to catch it up. His other arm hooks over her shoulder, and he's suddenly capitalizing on her lost balance by hopping into the air. He pulls a single backflip with her held against him in that way, and he lands with her back smashing against his table, and his sixpacked abs powerslamming across her stomach.
And much like his practical use of the Solar Eclipse technique in the ring, he uses the finale of the maneuver to attempt pinning her against the flat surface. The captured leg is drawn higher into the air, and he hooks her free leg with one of his own. The arm that was previously over her shoulder is now cradling her neck, and his weight is pressed down over hers - hopefully to restrain her.
Drake's head lifts to hover just over hers, amethyst eyes centered on her browns for a moment before the head tilts slightly aside in curiosity. "So did you come for something in specific, or are you just treating my home like a garage sale? What's the deal? You don't really look like a raggamuffin, but you could just -ask- for help, if you're havin' a hard time. It's a lot more dignified than trying to rob someone and getting beaten up."
Or of course, she could just -enjoy- robbing people. But he's trying to not think about that. After all, she's pretty. He doesn't like to think attractive people are -willingly- bad.
One moment she was being squeezed, standing in the room, face to face with Drake, attempting a dual-strike to pry her way free with the attacks. The next moment his hand is beneath her knee and the capable fighter turns her own upward momentum against her... and then she's flat on her back on his table with a pained gasp. Rendered helpless to stop him from pinning her, the breath taken from her by the slam, she doesn't seem to have too much strength left in her, having worn herself out trying to relentlessly attack the young man perhaps. And all of his holds and strikes are starting to add up, as well.
"I didn't know what I'd find ahead of time," she admits, eyes narrowing as she focuses back on his face. "But I figured it was safe to say there'd be something worth my time. Rich, expensive beach front property... must be nice." She tries pressing against his chest with her hands but it doesn't seem to do much to get her any slack. He's pinned her down good. If there were a ref, he would have three-counted a long time ago!
"Usually doesn't go like this," she admits. Getting beat up is definitely not part of the game plan going in, after all. But while he's got her stuck, she hasn't run out of devices to use on him either. Her left hand reaches over to the cloth wrap over her right sleeve and tears it back a little at the wrist, revealing a small, wrist-mounted crossbow that expands out a little, the single bolt in it draw taut.
This close it seems like it might be a sure thing as she brings her hand up and points the weapon at his chest and clicks the trigger in her palm. The bolt is poisoned... nerve numbing poison. It isn't enough to do more than stagger someone with Drake's physique just a little, but it might get her free from his pin all the same.
COMBATSYS: Drake dodges Ayame's Sudden Fling.
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Drake 1/-----==/=======|=======\====---\1 Ayame
"C'mon, quit fighting me. You got me bleeding. You should be proud that I'm out of a job for a bit now. But don't push it," Drake says. He tries to press the pin onto her tighter, especially when he sees the hand starting to bring a crossbow to bear. His eyes widen and he moves his elbow over to press it against her bicep to pin the arm down whilest his body lowers the rest of the way to leave no real amount of room between the two. This permits the bolt to whiz by harmlessly.
Drake lowers his face beside hers, setting what would be cheek-to-cheek with her. The arm that's still cradling her neck begins to tighten, trying to choke the captured girl against his shoulder or neck. Her leg is released in favor of trying to fully pin an arm, but he keeps her other leg still hooked with his own. Trying to ever-enhance the pin, since she keeps seeming to produce weapons from -everywhere-.
"-Stop-, I said. I don't wanna actually have to hurt you! Just.. tap out when you're ready to chill," Drake says. He figures she'll either tap out or go limp under him. Either way, submission is submission.
COMBATSYS: Ayame fails to counter Fast Throw from Drake with Random Weapon.
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Drake 1/-----==/=======|=======\===----\1 Ayame
"The state of your employment is hardly my concern," Ayame retorts as he talks about what her slashes have done for his work. Her bolt sticks out of his ceiling uselessly and now the crossbow is empty, that weapon having also been expended now. Her breath is becoming haggard as he presses in tighter. At first she was fine with the close contact, but now that Drake seems to be the one in control, the girl is becoming far more agitated about it and her incessant though ineffective squirming and struggling makes it pretty clear.
Her right arm pinned now as Drake shifts position, Ayame brings her left hand in instead, slipping her fingers into the top of her blouse and withdrawing a folded, metal object. A flick of her wrist reveals it to be a small, old fashioned, Iron Japanese war fan she's kept tucked away in a sleeve inside her shirt for just these kinds of occasions.
Rather than just hacking and slashing at him with it though, the girl tries to squeeze it between them, intending to use it as leverage to pry him off of her. But the man knows how to stay in tight and in spite her ongoing struggle to get him off, she isn't quite able to accomplish what she was attempting. Her face is turning red as the pressure against her neck does its job, it's clear the girl doesn't have much fight left in her.
Drake stays with her throughout the squirming, and what with their being zero room between the two, the fan.. well.. kind've useless. It does get an odd look, though, while it's in Drake's peripheral. "What are you-"
And then she's trying to wedge him off. The effort causes him to crack a grin, despite the seriousness of his situation.
"Put that away. I'm not a flapjack. You're -not- getting out of this pin, okay? I'm not letting you out of it 'til you submit," the model explains. "Don't force yourself into unconsciousness, either." And with that said, he shifts over her a little to tighten the chokehold a bit in the hopes of increasing her incentive to tap out. But also this mild shift will hopefully, hopefully deter the mostly-untended arm from trying anything more.
COMBATSYS: Ayame counters Fast Throw from Drake with Light Kick.
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Drake 1/---====/=======|=======\=------\1 Ayame
Pushing up on him. Not working. Trying to pry him off? Not working. Ayame can feel her strength slipping away quickly and she might just have to surrender like he's offering after all as her options are running slim. However, her left arm and left leg are now free as the determined young man presses in tighter on her which gives her the final option that at last works out in the end. Her left hand presses sideways against his shoulder, not trying to lift and push him off but rather to slide him laterally just a little. The real meat of the escape comes from the kick that follows, a sideways, clumsy knee into his side as she simultaneously twists onto /her/ side, slipping out from under him at last.
Sliding off the table, she practically flops to the floor, catching herself on her hands and knees, the iron war fan clattering to the tiles as she releases her hold on it too. Gasping for air, the girl crawls across the flooring toward the pouch that had been left to sit on the floor when she had removed her belt earlier. With the way she's determined to make it over to it, it would be safe to assume she's got more tricks up her sleeve if she reaches it.
Drake remains pressed in against her, and he tightens it moreso when he starts to feel her pushing on him. And the fact that he starts to slide lets him know she's about to work her way free. The kick wasn't expected so much, though. Oof. He's knocked off of her, and he likewise tumbles off the table to land with a thud on his backside.
Those amethyst eyes blink a couple more times, and he cracks a small grin. "Kind'a impressive." And he pushes himself back to his feet, seeing her crawling for a bag. Heck no. "Not gonna happen," says he, eyes narrowing on the girl. "Didn't wanna do this, but fine..."
And in rushes Drake, attempting to grab her shoulders from behind firmly...
COMBATSYS: Ayame fails to counter Total Eclipse from Drake with Harvest's Reaper.
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Drake 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Ayame can no longer fight.
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Drake 0/-------/------=|
With the shoulders firmly grasped, Drake suddenly yanks her backwards into an arch. Her neck is locked between his thighs, and his arms loop around her waist to flip her the rest of the way up against him, whereupon he suspends her in a sort of tombstone piledrive position.
Except that's not exactly what happens. Phase one of the Total Eclipse begins after he turns her away from her bag o' goodies and towards the table. But he doesn't really use the table. Not yet, at least. Instead, he just begins to crush her body against his again, except this time the bearhug is inverted. He doesn't really speed through this phase, either, taking his time to grind her midsection against his while letting the blood rush to her head. The hold tightens further and further, only with sporadic moments of loosening his grip just to permit her to gasp in a breath before crushing yet harder - ideally to keep from killing her.
But then begins phase two. Cinching on the bearhugs as tight as possible, Drake suddenly takes to the air. Albeit there is a roof much lower than he's used to with this phase of the Total Eclipse, he makes what use of it he can by immediately pulling into rapid forward flips. Ayame is dragged along for the ride, the speed of the flipping growing faster and faster as they rise. By the time the two are on the descent, their bodies have blurred together into an opaque swirl of motion... directed right at the table.
And it's against that table that the full of the Total Eclipse is delivered. Their combined bodyweight and the insane momentum backing the rapid flips is driven squarely against Ayame's skull atop the table. Needless to say, the furniture doesn't stand up to this kind of hit. It splinters down the point of impact, the two halves blasted further apart - and Ayame's head thus strikes tiled floor as well. And a good few tiles are jolted into the air in a radius around the landing zone.
And from there, Drake finally releases the girl's body to let her flop onto her back, and he goes to sit atop her stomach and take hold of her wrists to pin them above her head. 'Course, he's worried that he might have seriously mangled the girl now...
She almost makes it, her hand reaching out, fingers stopped just inches from getting a grip on the bag she was scrambling for. But the wrestler's hands clamp down on her shoulders just in time, stopping the girl short and pulling her up into the inverted, crushing hold. That isn't to say that she gives up on the spot, trying to worm her way free or striking out, flailing to find a way to escape. At one point she slips out a second kunai, but it falls from her trembling fingers before she can do anything with it, allowing to fall to the tiles with a rattle.
Her right hand reaches to the hem of her flipped skirt and slides out a needle, laced with a smaller dose of the same poison that was on the crossbow bolt and she tries to drive it into Drake's arm but just can't get the right angle before she fumbles and drops that as well. Her breaths come in gasps when he allows them, but the struggling begins to wind down slowly.
The final leap to the air and painful crush through the table to land against the floor seals the deal though, the skin on the crow of her head split open and bleeding as she smacks against the tile after plunging through the furniture. When he releases her, there's a spasm as she tries to roll over onto her side, but she doesn't get anywhere before he's seated on her stomach, pinning her wrists alongside her head.
At last though, there's no more fight from her, dazed, unfocused eyes staring up at Drake as he leans over her. This would be a good time to tap out if she had the wherewithall to even do it, but a good nap seems like a better course of action as her eyelids grow heavy and her vision swirls with darkness.
And there Drake remains, still bleeding, but not quite -as- much as before. It's slowed down a little. But still, these cuts are going to hassle him. No joke about it. But even still, he catches sight of her own bleeding as well, and he frowns.
Yeah, kind'a stupid. Smash a girl's head through a table and against a tile floor and expect it not to get bloody? Pshyeah.
But still, Drake leans in a little closer to the pinned girl. He's seen that look on her face from others before. She's only barely conscious. "Hey..," he says, voice softened, breathing on the labored side though. "..Y'okay? Try to stay awake. I'll get you bandaged. And don't bother trying to run off. After a hit like that, you'd have to be a freaking machine to get up and get away. So.. just relax."
And with that, Drake releases her and raises to his feet... and starts to wobble over to the bathroom to fetch a first aid kit and a bowl of water. He's learned how to clean wounds by now!
COMBATSYS: Drake has ended the fight here.
She would run for it the moment he's off of her if she had the strength. But even before that final assault she would have been hard pressed to make it out with enough speed to outrun him and now? Not a chance. Surprise attacks and fighting didn't work so hot against him. Her mind struggles to weigh options and figure out what to do instead in light of her body's failure to respond beyond just letting her roll onto her side a bit. A bit of a tough girl, yes, but a machine she isn't. But to give up? Hmm...
She could detect his reluctance, especially toward the end, when some of his initial anger had burned off during the course of the fight. She isn't sure what will happen next. He went off to go get something to tend to her head injury - that much she gathered. But then what? She's guilty of any number of crimes, after all. Breaking and entering. Armed assault. Deadly weapons used in the commission of a crime... She's in major trouble if he decides to turn her in. She could try to stab him with another poison needle when he gets back, but she'd probably just flub at this point anyway, and the agent lacks the strength to really deal with someone as fit as Drake. Time for Plan C.
Ayame is still lying there when Drake comes back, not having moved beyond the roll onto her side. Her eyes are watering, tears rolling over the bridge of her nose and down her cheek before dripping to the floor beneath her face. Awwh. Poor thief girl.
Drake returns, complete with water bowl in one hand and first-aid kit in the other, face all ^_^ -like. Seems he's perked a bit, at least, his cuts and wounds cleaned and bandaged over. Seeing the girl on her side and with her cheeks all moist from tears turns his smile into a more subdued look, though. He lowers to his knees behind her back and he opens the kit to retrieve a little cloth. First thing's first - cleaning the wound. So he dabs the cloth at the water and very gently brushes it over her hair. As he does this, his free arm very gingerly goes to slip around her neck to cradle her head a little for easier access and ideally to make her a little more comfortable.
"You'll be okay," Drake offers quietly as he does this. "You seem pretty tough. Just take it easy right now. You could hurt yourself worse if you try to run away or something."
The girl doesn't put up a fuss as Drake tends to her injury. A weak, strained question escapes her lips as he seems to express concern about her hurting herself worse. "... why are you doing this?" In light of all she's done - the stabs, the slashes, the broken table and flooring and mess in general... He doesn't sound angry at any more. And that's confusing.
The tears keep coming for the moment, dripping to the tile beneath her cheek. Perhaps the young man's kind attentions have gotten through to the cold girl as someone treats her better than nearly anyone she can remember for a long time. Or maybe she just knows girl's tears are one of the most powerful weapons in the world and isn't afraid to abuse that fact.
Either way, she lies perfectly still, showing no further signs of struggling or reaching for any more weapons that she quite possibly still has hidden on her person somewhere.
Whether the crying is fake or not, Drake doesn't change the way he's acting. He likely believes they're real, though. He continues to cradle the girl's head gently, brushing over it as lightly as he can with the cloth to clean her wound. Her question gets a sort of curious look from him. "'Cuz I want to," he replies.
After a few more seconds of swabbing the girl's head, he exhales a small, puffy sigh and extrapolates. "I don't really know you, where you're from, or even why you were trying to rob me blind, but come on. I'm not the kind of guy to just let someone bleed out. Not someone like you, anyway. There's a shortage of pretty girls that can put up a decent fight. It'd be terrible of me to let one stay all injured." His head tilts a little and he offers her a playful grin. It dissipates after a few moments, however. "Seriously, though. I'm the optimistic sort. I'm not convinced that you do this for the heck of it. So instead of turning you in, I'd rather you have a chat with me. Tell me who you are. Why you're breakin' into homes."
And Drake pauses again, this time to change the water up for a disenfectant. "This is gonna sting a little..," he murmers before proceeding to decontaminate the wound.
But once that's under way, the model continues. "I'll start. The name's Drake - or Domino, to most people. Leader of the Shooting Stars. Might know some of my work from repelling the invading forces in Thailand and backing up the resistance..." Dab-dab. "How 'bout you?"
The wouldbe thief continues to lie there. Her vision has cleared some though she has a splitting headache from the abuse she took getting smashed through the table. Her mind replays the altercation over and over as she reviews where she mis-stepped, what mistakes she made with regards to dealing with a capable wrestler, and what she could have done better. She won't get beaten like this again. It's almost worse that he's so nice about it. It's humiliating!
She glances up to see his playful grin and returns it with a neutral look. Another compliment, both at her looks and her ability to fight. Her fighting ability is a somewhat questionable matter, since deprived of her weapons she's not really all that tough compared to some. But she does make use of nearly anything she can get her hands on, and she is quick, so there is something to be said for that.
So he isn't going to turn her in, she ponders, the tears slowing as she blinks her eyes, focusing on Drake more intently now. That makes things interesting. It means as long as she doesn't go entirely out of her way to be obnoxious she might get out of this without having to deal with the authorities, which is a definite plus.
He tells her a little about himself. She knew about the Domino moniker though the mention of Shooting Stars is news to her as well as his action in Thailand. There's a lot more to him than just some media hound then after all. She has to return the favor though. Them's his terms and she is in no position to argue them.
"Amelia." she states. Of course she's lying. "I live with my uncle down in the south district of town." Down where the infamous Gedo street can be found. Certainly not upper class material. And part of that was actually true! "He doesn't know anything about all this. I- he-... he took me in after my parents..." Her voice trembles, fading then. "He tries to provide for us, but it isn't enough to make ends meet. I try to make up the difference. Rent is due in three days..." she states gloomily.
"Amelia. Pretty name, so it fits," Drake replies, totally unawares of her lying. So he appears fairly gullible at the moment. With the cleaning of the wound finished, he starts to pull some bandaging out to tape up the injury, complete with gaus. "I see...," he adds quietly as she trails off. "Stealing's not the best way to do it, though. I mean, you never know when you might be stealing from someone who can really screw you up. I mean, look at what happened here. And imagine what would'a happened if I were a bit less, ah.. inclined to be a good host?"
He gives her a screwy expression and shakes his head. "A girl who can give me a hassle like you might be ring material. Ever consider it? It'd pay pretty well - at the least cover the rent, I'm sure."
And once her wound has been bandaged, he.. well, he continues to cradle the girl's neck. The alternative is laying her head in a small puddle of blood and mussing the cleaning job he already did. Besides, he can be more consoling this way. Plus, he gets to cradle a girl-head. That's always nice.
There's a slight twitch as he mentions fighting in the ring as means of getting by. If she were being fully open with him, she'd tell him what she thought about those spectacles. People fighting for the amusement of the masses, told what to do by the media moguls who run those circuits, men just as criminal as she is in charge of massive entertainment empires. Yet the masses love them all the same. Feh. Ayame wants nothing to do with them.
Amelia, on the other hand, isn't so difficult. Much less abrasive. Yes. Must not make a difficult situation even worse. "Well, you're tougher than most," she murmurs with regards to getting beaten by some home owner less forgiving than he. But she doesn't elaborate, focusing instead on the matter of prize fighting, in a sense. "I-... I've thought about it," she states, seemingly content to let him continue to cradle her head for the moment. "Maybe I could try it sometime. It seems kind of... well... nerve wracking to do those fights like you do, where so many people are watching around the world." She closes her eyes and shakes her head just slightly, wincing a little as the motion provokes her headache a bit.
"I guess it can't hurt any worse than this," she mumbles a bit dejectedly.
"Sometimes it may, sometimes it may not. But if you're brave enough to barge into someone's home - someone who may be inclined to kill to keep what's his - it shouldn't worry you. At least the ring's regulated." To a degree, anyway. But Drake -did- notice the twitch. Subtleties, he catches. Not so much lies, perhaps, but subtle expression shifts and such.
"Hungry or anything? I figure you wanna rest a bit, at least, which is fine. You can use the couch. It'd probably be too much of an adjustment to move you upstairs to the guest bed." Though unsure of what to make of the twitch he saw, Drake's still intent on being a good, shining example of justice's more gentle hand. Reformation and all that.
Is this guy for real? Telling her she can even hang around and use his couch? Offering a meal? Mentioning the guest room even? Ayame blinks with abject surprise in her eyes as she stares at Drake. "I-..." she actually feels at a loss of words for once and that isn't just for show.
She tears her eyes from him to look away, uncertain if she could even stay convincing were she to focus on him directly. "I'll rest on the couch. " she states. It beats lying on the floor and she thinks she /might/ be able to make it there on her own power. A fact that she tests by trying to sit up, only to have the effort provoke a cringe of pain.
She's quiet for a moment, not at all thrilled to be in such an incapacitated state. But there's nothing much she can do about it. "I might not be able to get to it by myself." she mumbles sullenly. Is he going to risk taking his eyes off her to let her rest?
More than that, when she admits she might not be able to make it there by herself, Drake does something only the dashing tend to do. One arm slips beneath her legs, and the other arm continues to cradle her neck, and he raises to his feet, now cradling her entire body. He's weakened, certainly, and hurting... but she's a rather light girl. Much lighter than the people he's used to hefting and powerbombing around.
So with that, Drake turns to walk carefully into the livingroom. And once he reaches his couch, he bends over to lay her upon it gently, setting her head against the arm of the couch. "You just settle there for a bit. I'm gonna go fetch something from upstairs. Shouldn't take me long, but if you need something, just yell. Kay?" A soft, but still boyish smile sets to his features, and he's then starting towards the steps leading to the second floor. Apparently he -is- going to take his eyes off of her, if even for a minute. But he does have a logic to it. A logic he hopes she shares as well.
Ayame sighs a little as she's carried over to the couch, but she can't help but utter a quiet, "Thanks," sounding like she's becoming more accepting of Drake's hospitality rather than finding it degrading like she might have at first. She inhales and exhales a few times after laid down on the sofa, shifting slightly until she finds a comfortable position, her left hand resting on her stomach as she watches him. She almost looks wary now. Suspicious. No one is this nice. It just isn't natural. People are only this nice if they're trying to game something out of you. Of that she's certain. At least, she was certain, until now.
"Nn," she grunts, acknowledging him leaving the room. Confusion sets in over her expression as he heads for the stairs and her other arm comes up to rest behind her head as she shifts to stare up at the ceiling. Well, there's not too much danger of her pulling any stunts if he's only going to be gone for a little bit. An hour? Maybe. She could probably collect her things and slip out. Whether she would willingly leave empty handed as a way of thanks for what he's done remains to be seen, of course. But not right now. Right now she closes her eyes and just ruminates on this interesting young man.
Drake isn't gone for too long, it's true. In fact, she can likely mark the path he takes by the sounds of footfalls up above. He enters a room, leaves the door open, pads across it.. pauses.. then pads back out, leaves the door open, and down he comes. When he departs from the stairs, it should be clear what he headed up to get: a pillow. It's not gigantic or anything - it's just soft. He moves around the couch and crouches beside the girl, attempting to nudge it beneath her head unintrusively. "Figured your head could do with a little more comfort than an armrest," he explains quietly. He then raises back to his feet and links his hands together behind his neck casually, staring down at her. "Can I get you anything, or are you set? I can check on you in half an hour and make sure you're not seriously injured or anything, if you like..."
He apparently has no intention on elaborating his motives for doing this. Not unprovoked, anyway. But it should be obvious that he isn't doing this for a lack of intelligence or wit.
'Amelia' opens her eyes as he returns and lifts her head, making it easy for him to slip the pillow behind her before she sinks back down into it. She stares at Drake, brow furrowed as if still puzzled by his charitable treatment of someone who had nothing but ill intent for him. If she had beaten him, she would have tied him up and left him to watch as she took her time going through his things right in front of him, probably taunting him the whole while. And she wouldn't have felt bothered by that in the slightest. But instead the fight favored the wrestler and this is how he handles victory instead?
Hands tighten into small fists as she remains silent for a long moment, mouth drawn into a tight lipped expression. "I'm fine. And okay," she states. A half hour. She might be able to get back on her feet and slip out by then she ponders... Just need a bit of rest before then. A little shut eye. She relaxes a little, trying not to figure Drake out any further. His motivations elude her. She can't make any sense of them. "Thanks." she states. It's hard to tell how sincere the appreciation is, as she is both glad to not have been turned in but also not happy to have been coddled like a fragile child either. If only she had managed to best him, she ponders silently. Maybe another time.
"Don't let me sleep too long..." she murmurs as she seems to sink even further into the couch, body bleeding off the stress that kept her so tense. "...work in the morning." Yeah right.
Drake says, "..Work?," asks Drake. "Then why did you have to-..." So Drake logically equates 'work' with 'stealing from the next Jimbo. He exhales a sigh and tosses his hands upwards in a small shrug. "Whatever." And he saunters off to the kitchen, where he intends to try to clean up a bit. Yeah. Seriously. Clean up a demolished table and fix the destroyed tiles on his floor. But yeah, that's what he's set to do."
It keeps the model pretty occupied for that period of time, too. Weak as he is, he doesn't want to actually -rest- while she could still try to screw him over. He's a good guy... but he's not retarded. Anyway, a little after half an hour and Drake is returning to the couch. He crouches beside it, sets a mug on the floor next to him, and nudges the girl's arm gently with his free hand. "Amelia? Y'okay? You've had some rest, lemme make sure you're not in a coma or anything."
The girl sleeps right through Drake's cleaning endeavors. Any thoughts of trying to wake up and get out before he checks on her again that she had while drifting off are pretty much irrelevant as he'll find her sleeping soundly right where he left her.
The nudge on her arm provokes a reaction, however, as Ayame gasps, blinking awake and sitting up straight, attempting to grab his arm and cling tightly to it. It seems either he's awoken her from a bad dream or she's just an extremely paranoid girl in general. After all, it's been years since someone's caught her asleep and tried to awaken her. It's not a familiar sensation in the slightest.
But she realizes what's happened quickly enough and her hands relax quickly, slipping down into her lap for a moment. Her right hand comes up to rest against her forehead, still feeling that headache from earlier though the pain has dulled some.
"Drake." she states as if simply identifying him for her /own/ mental calibration rather than speaking to him directly. "Right." Her hand lowers back down to her lap as she looks up at the young man, blinking as her vision comes back into focus. "Guess I'm still here." she remarks with an almost sheepish grin. She hadn't meant to be.
Her reaction startles the martial artist-wrestler, plopping him down onto his rear beside the couch with ginormous amethyst eyes taking over the majority of his face. But give a few more seconds, and he shakes his head quickly. "Man. You'd think -you- were in Thailand, being that jumpy...," he remarks. He then gives her a similarly sheepish smile - fighters of his calibur shouldn't be so prone to shock! - and takes up the mug beside him. It's then offered to her. The liquidy contents has a very strong chocolaty smell about it. "Made cocoa. It's gotten kind'a chilly, aaannnd..." From the other hand, he offers a couple headache pills. "...Caffeine makes these buggers work quicker. I figured you probably would still have a headache."
It smells good. She can't deny that right now she's more than willing to take anything he wants to offer. Eager hands reach out to take hold of the mug and pills at the same time. The pills are taken first, tossed into her mouth at the same time and swallowed easily, almost suggesting she has regular practice with doing just that. Headaches are not an infrequent problem for the girl.
The mug is tested next, checking for temperature first to make sure it isn't too hot before sipping away, brown eyes focusing on Drake the whole while. "By now I feel like I owe you something," she mentions, mouth hidden by the mug that she keeps close, enjoying the aroma that wafts up with the steam beneath her nose. A broken table, tiles, ruined shirt, probably some bruises, verbal abuse, and now cocoa. Wracking up quite a debt and she hasn't even managed to steal anything yet!
"You're right," Drake replies with a pleased smile. Apparently she's played right into his hand! But played what, exactly...
"Here's the deal. I figure if I don't mistreat you or anything, and I make sure you're okay before you head back out, you'll be inclined to come back. I'd like you to do that, see. Only this time, use the front door. And, err.. knock." Drake shoots a glance to the door, then to her with a bemused look. "Anyway, as long as you don't try to steal anything or assault me again, I'll..." Pause. His right hand lifts, a couple fingers setting to his chin and lips. "..I'd say 'take care of you', but that almost makes me sound like I'm trying to be a parent or something. So I'll just put it this way: you're welcome. I'll help you out with what I can, and for whatever else.. well.. we'll see." His hand lowers again, and he offers her a soft, pleasant smile. "How's that?"
She hadn't expected him to agree to her admission of debt and when he siezes upon that she freezes, eyes widening just a little before she blinks. After all this, and he's asking her to come back in the future? Her eyes search his as if trying to detect deception, lies, or some other con game he might be playing. But Drake comes across as one of the more frightfully honest people she's ever met. And disturbingly optimistic too as he lays his offer on the table.
"Why are you doing this?" It's the same question she asked when he tended to her injury. One she rightfully deserved, to say the least. Maybe she didn't like his answer then, or perhaps she thinks it can't possibly apply to his offer /now/. Surely there's something else.
"Because I don't think you have to live this way," Drake replies. "You know.. stealing, attacking people, that kind'a thing. I think you can do a whole lot better. All you need is a break. No offense to the relative you're living with or anything. So.. yeah. If you come by here, I'll make sure you're fed'n watered. Even trained for professional fighting, if you're honestly interested." His smile turns a hint more coy after this, amethysts setting to her browns. "I'd be lying if I said the fact that you're really cute didn't help me come to this decision, though." And that would be a flirt.
But then his look turns more pleasantly friendly. "So that's it. No strings attached. You're just welcome to come by, as long as you don't try to steal from me. If I catch you doing that, deal's off. Mmkay?"
It's a lot being offered and the downside is non-existant. Even if it comes with that not so subtle flirting. An agreement to not steal from him costs her nothing significant, after all. Trying already proved to be a waste of time, resources, and effort. No reason to give in easily though. "I won't be controlled," Ayame snaps back, sounding a bit petulant as if she needs to in order to save some kind of face.
But he's offering her free food when she needs and even the chance for training. "But..." she continues after having made her bold declaration. "...okay." His terms are impossible to turn down, no matter how she tries to twist them around in her mind, viewing them from all the worst cynical angles imagineable.
"Deal." She lowers the mug, having emptied it in the meantime. She ponders the offer of training. For all the fight she gave him, she didn't once get a chance to fall back on the training she had years ago as a budding miko. He had to deal with her improvized, mimicked tactics and tricks which... are fairly effective. But the idea of getting even better with some help is not easily dismissed.
All she has to do is restrain her klepto tendencies while on his property and she should be able to even honor this deal. It will take will power, but she thinks she can pull it off!
Her snap gets a blink from him, then a soft, possibly even demeaning snicker. "Geeze. Not trying to control you. I don't think it's too much to ask that you don't make off with my stuff. And I really do think you can make something better of yourself. It'll just take some work, I guess." Even if she's being completely unresponsive to the model's flirtation, the good in him can't really shut her out. There's a chance she can shape up, he'd be happy to help. That's just the way he is.
But with all that being said, he raises to his feet and links his hands behind his back. "Well, I'm not rushing you off. You made a deal not to swipe my stuff, so I'm gonna trust you on that, Amelia. You're free to stay 'til you feel good. I'd offer to let you stay as long as you like, but I wouldn't want your relative getting worried."
Given her skeptic nature and history of using flirting as a means of conning people into doing what she wants, it's less a reflection on him than her own personality that his flattery isn't met with an obvious response. Ayame is a difficult girl to pin down in that regard. Of him? To say that the remarkably fit young man wasn't good lucking would be an abject lie. His life as a model outside of fighting is well deserved. And given too much time around him, she might start to wonder about that side of him even more. But right now Drake remains a very strange individual to her. She tried to show him nothing but misery but his spirits seem quite difficult to bring down once he realized it was a girl that was fighting with him.
"I'll collect my things," she remarks as he gets back to his feet. She's ready to be on her way. Her head is reeling from trying to sort out this strange outcome. She came seeking easy money and instead left with something arguably more valuable - and it's being offered practically free of charge. Too good to be true, as the saying goes.
The fan, the crossbow bolt, the couple of kunai, a needle or two, her belt, her pouch, her knives... yeah, it's quite a laundry list of unfriendly instruments and the girl intends to leave with all of 'em.
"You don't have to head out -right now-. Just, you know, before it gets too late. And I piled the stuff up in the corner of the kitchen. Knicked myself a couple times, too." Drake gives the girl a mock-perterbed look. "If I teach you a little more on fighting, you've gotta do it -without- edged weapons. That screws me out of a job for a while each time I get hit with one." Beat. "I do modeling as well as fighting, if you didn't know." Since he figures she'd have to be crazy to know who he is and still barge into his house expecting easy loot.
Regardless, Drake stays aside to let the girl do as she will and collect her trinkets, if she so wishes.
She actually grins a little as he mentions getting hurt collecting her stuff. And that's without even trying to investigate the contents of the black pouch, probaby... Because if he had tried to do that, he'd be complaining about something a lot worse than a minor knicking of the skin.
She laughs lightly as he talks about edged weapons. "I can't imagine they have any place in friendly spars," she notes, shaking her head. It's just that her present style isn't very friendly and she doesn't fight people for 'fun'. "Or weapons at all. I wouldn't be asking you to teach me how to use my weapons, so don't worry." she grins.
She does walk into the kitchen all the same and start collecting her things. The two kunai are returned to the clip hidden beneath the black wrist guard on her left arm. The fan is folded up and slipped back into its sheath inside her shirt. The knives are folded closed and inserted into the little bag. The belt put back on around her waist and the pouch re-affixed. And finally the needles returned to two little places hidden in the hem of her skirt. A walking warehouse of odds and ends weapons, it would seem. Though as demonstrated especially early on in their alteraction, she can still put on a bit of a fight even without them.
Re-equipped, Ayame turns to face Drake and looks him over from head to toe rather pointedly. "Modeling. I can see it." is her assessment. Whether that's the closest thing he'll get to a compliment from her remains to be seen... "Good bye for now then, Drake." she states before moving toward the front door - the normal portal of entry and exiting that civilized people use.
Log created on 14:23:53 10/27/2007 by Ayame, and last modified on 01:58:01 10/28/2007.