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In which Carol is a good partner
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The location: A gun range, rented out for the entire day.  Halfway between powers testing and markmanship. 

Carol looks down at Tim on the ground and sighs.

"Come on, puppy.  You've gotta work on your stamina, all you've been doing is shooting.  How hard can it be to pull a trigger?"  Seriously, it's impressive that he can fire that monster without so much as flinching.  He just needs to get his shit together so he doesn't need a break every twenty minutes.  The dungeon won't let him have one.  And firing a big pistol isn't even that impressive, most anyone could do the same with a rifle.  He is a pretty good shot, though.  Might be a little better than me, though I'll never admit it.

Maybe we can make a bet about it later.  That'd be fun.

Carol is gracious about it, though.  She'll gracefully breakfall and entwine her bare legs with Timothy's, though she remains sitting up.  She props herself up on an elbow and gazes at him pensively.

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If this stupid ten-pound hunk of steel wasn't so god damn recoil-heavy I wouldn't need to use my powers.  It's like getting a high-five from a horse.  Eurgh.

Timothy perks up a little as he feels her legs the guiding.  Just a few seconds of this and I'm feeling so much better.  I know it's psychological, but feeling less tired in real time is so nice.  Let's see if she's been practicing.  Roll over into side control, Tim's torso crossing over Carol's.  He tries to lift his leg over Carol's legs, to get a good squash going.  

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Carol chortles.  It's always the same with boys, isn't it.  She lifts her left leg to prevent Tim from achieving mount position.  She interposes her right knee between the two of them, sets her hands on his shoulder and push. "I remember your lessons, Tim."  He's not going all-out, which is why I'm not smooshed underneath him right now.  Poor thing doesn't have it in him right now.  Maybe I'll have it in me, later.  "Is this your vision of revenge, for making you shoot on your own?"

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Busted.  "I don't know what you're talking about.  I'm just practicing fighting through fatigue."  As if I hadn't done that enough back when I was doing tournaments.  Tim quits trying to thread his right foot over Carol, blocked by her own leg.  His right hand tries to push her interposing knee down so he can put his knee on her belly.  "And making sure that you stay on your toes.  What if you're in a dungeon and can't afford to rack up backlash?"

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I don't want you to take my breath away like that, puppy.  Carol grabs Tim's right wrist with her left hand, threads her right hand around his left shoulder, lifts up her right foot and pushes it on Tim's right foot.  Then pulls his wrist and shoulder, trying to hurl him over her.  Gotcha!

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Sport grappling is a game of endurance, skill, and timing.  You can rest, if you're doing it while the opponent is in a bad position and working to get themselves out of it.  Tim has made a virtue of exhaustion by sprawling out, keeping his center of gravity low and on the side he's already on, rather than the side Carol wants to throw him to.  Back to side control, and Carol is now in the Sqush zone.

Not the first time I've seen that move, although it's the first time I've seen you try it.  Studying behind my back, were you?  The thought is affectionate, and Tim would be smiling if he weren't currently panting.

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Okay.  This is winnable, probably.  Carol scooches and snags Tim's left leg with her right.  As always, the guiding is there.  She snakes her right ankle around Tim's thigh, and wraps her left knee over her ankle in a figure-four lock.  Half guard is better than no guard.  She wriggles a little.  Don't wrap your arm around his neck and hold him closer.  That's just working extra hard to put more pressure on youInstead, she puts up a "frame": she braces the bones of her forearm against his throat.  If he gets any closer, he'll have to choke himself to do it.

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That's fine.  Tim lays there, staring down into Carol's face, slightly unfocused.  Not looking so much as looking for her next move in her body language.  He's in a good position, and he can afford to be a little patient.  His arms sneak up and one of them pins Carol's left arm to the floor of the gun range. 

Wait.  The gun range. 

"Pause for a sec?  I want to make sure I safetied the pistol.  I think I did but I was.  Distracted."

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This time she does reach up and touch the back of his neck.  Not a caress.  Just a fleeting moment of sweaty, guiding contact.  "Okay.  That's fine, we probably shouldn't be doing this here, anyway."  Even if you rented out the entire thing and took out a pretty comprehensive insurance policy.

Carol doesn't unlock her legs from Tim's.

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Hmm.  If we're not wrestling, and there's nobody else here, then it doesn't matter if I safetied it or not.  I definitely set it on the counter, and it won't fall off.  I can take a minute to get my breath back.  Tim lowers himself slowly atop of his partner, and nuzzles his face into her throat and shoulder maximizes guiding contact.

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Carol pulls him closer.  The guiding does feel good, and she does have a bit of a load on.  They can take a few minutes to be happy.  Putting her hand on the back of his head and brushing the delicious sweat from his hair is just efficient guiding.

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A minute turns into ten.  Longer, even.  It's peaceful.

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"Can you hold my hand while you do the next run?  I think I have an idea."  Sinkhole reluctantly gets up and stretches, wincing a little bit as the predictable effects of having two hundred pounds of esper muscle squishing her into concrete floor make themselves known.

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Not for long, they don't.  A touch of backlash accumulating that Carol can feel rising and being washed away.

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A small smile of acknowledgement.

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"Let's do it."

Five minutes of backlash accumulation and plinking later, he raises an eyebrow at her.  "Well?"

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"I thought so.  You're using your power all the time, Tim.  Constantly.  You can modulate it, right?  Try to only fire it up when you're pulling the trigger.  Maybe it'll help you not break the trigger guard this time."

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Huh.  "Okay.  Lemme have my hand back, I need to focus." 

Hand: retrieved. 

Targets: Shot. 

Backlash cost: A fraction of the accumulation he'd experienced half an hour ago.

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"I knew you could do it, puppy.  Do you want a reward for learning a new trick?"

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Neither of them had anything to say for quite some time.

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