Off the Record, For the Record - Matsumura/Alexander

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Off the Record, For the Record - Matsumura/Alexander

Postby Red » Mon Jan 29, 2007 2:13 pm

Off the Record, For the Record
LCDR Charlotte Matsumura
ADM Malcolm Alexander (NPC)

As she struck out with a lunge punch, Charlotte knew she was reaching. It had been nearly three minutes since the informal sparring round had begun – after the six or eight preceding it. She was beginning to get tired and frustrated – two weaknesses Malcolm Alexander would seize upon…just like he seized upon her outstretched punch.

Blocking her punch with the edge of his left hand, Mal kicked in, at her ribs, with his right foot. The kick landed lightly against her lower ribs, his foot landing behind hers; his elbow connected with her sternum. And then, before she could blink, he shifted his hips, swept her right foot with his own, and she was freefalling.

Charlotte recovered from her surprise almost instantly. With her left hand, she grabbed a handful of his canvas gi, simultaneously tucking her legs. Using his own momentum against him, she sent him sprawling onto his back. She followed up with a well-placed elbow to his gut.

“Oof!” Malcolm exclaimed as her elbow struck. “At least I held back on my kick!”

Still lying on the mats, Charlotte chuckled, her eyes on the ceiling. She turned to look at him. “And whose fault is that?”

Alexander gave a snort. “So much for deference to a lady.”

“I’m intel, Mal. I have to be able to take a beating.”

“I’m well aware of that, Charlotte. “ He turned and looked at her, eyes softening with concern and affection. “But, contrary to Mister Johnson’s beliefs, I’m not the bad guy here.”

Focused as she had been on their sparring, she suddenly became aware of the warmth radiating off of him, and his close proximity. An uncomfortable lump rose in her throat that she tried to swallow back. She offered a flickering smile. “I know, Mal. But you’re still fairly dangerous…and I don’t think I need to elaborate as to why.”

Mal reached over and brushed a finger against her cheek. “No. No need to elaborate,” he said. He held her gaze with his own for a moment longer, then cleared his throat and sat up. Standing, he reached down and offered his hand. “At least allow me to help you up.”

Charlotte grasped his hand and was pulled to her feet. She was always amazed at his strength, given how slender his frame was. After years in the field and in martial arts training, however, she had little doubt that beneath that gi was a strong, wiry frame. Her mind attempted to wander further down that path before being strongly reined back in; she blushed despite herself. “Thank you.” Tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear, she went for her towel, desperate to put some distance between them.

Watching her go, Mal glanced down and idly fiddled with his obi tightening the knot in the black fabric. The silence falling over the dojo was unusual – not quite uncomfortable, but not an easy silence, either. He blotted his face with his own towel. “Ah, Charlotte?”

“Hm?” Lottie turned, tossing her towel back onto the bench. She could hear the caution in his voice, and part of her dreaded what might come next.

“I think we need to talk.”

“Mal –“

He held up a hand to interrupt her. Cognizant of the fact that her father was in the next room, he lowered his voice. “And I do mean talk, Lottie. We can’t bloody well do our jobs if we’re continually walking on egg shells, trying to fight back whatever…this… is. We keep saying we’re going to talk about it, and we never seem to. One way or another, we need to figure out what’s going to happen.”

Charlotte nodded silently. She knew what she wanted to happen; she also knew the positions they both held and why it shouldn’t happen. At this exact moment, however, she wasn’t sure how much of that mattered. That thought, and the way it was mirrored in the way he looked back at her, scared her. A lot.

“My flat around seven?” she inquired aloud. Her voice was much more confident than she felt. “In town, no watchers, no minders?” No witnesses.

“Fine.” Malcolm nodded. “I, ah, know it’s not exactly a date, but should I bring dinner?”

“Please.” Crossing the room, Charlotte paused before him, placing her hand on his forearm. She then eased up onto her toes, planting a kiss on his cheek. Her lips lingered for a moment; looking up to him, a smile flickered across her lips. “Regardless of the outcome, it is a date. At least then we can say we tried.”

She squeezed his forearm gently, then headed for the door. Her father met her half way. “Done for the day?” he asked.

“I think eight rounds is more than enough for anyone,” she said with a laugh. “Even my bruises have bruises.” Clapping her father on the shoulder, she moved on. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Papa!” With those words, she disappeared into the women’s locker room.

MCAPT Katja Romany
USS Daystrom
LCDR Charlotte Matsumura
Starfleet Intelligence
USS Phoenix

Posts: 59
Joined: Tue Oct 25, 2005 8:51 pm
Location: USS Daystrom/USS Phoenix

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