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"Hey, jerkwad!"

It was not readily obvious how Jace Darnell had known to crash it; an accidental statement from her sister, maybe, who had probably thoroughly believed the other members of the superhero pack to be there and not just Rory, which explained why she wasn't present; she was wearing a wifebeater a much more off-shade of white than Antony's, even if Beatrix was a laundry fiend, and jeans that had been cut-off around mid-thigh. Usual Jace outfit; no shoes that day, either, so she just simply looked like a robot boy. She scruffed her hair back.

"Stop fondling up Rory," she demanded, "I'm here for a match."

He had probably even forgotten she was his self-proclaimed rival. It was a relief that Irelia wasn't there holding up signs and swearing from the sidelines.

"Oh whatever," said Jace. "'All those times Chris isn't there!'. What the hell do you think she is, a 1950s housewife? Rory can kick the goddamn spit out of anything any time she wants, she doesn't need Deakon to protect her."

She crunched her knuckles. "Rory, give me five minutes with Captain Dorkula. If I beat him, I'll train you instead. I'm way cooler and I won't try to touch your breasts."

"Actually," Antony said, glancing at his watch. "If you want to train her, Jace, I wouldn't have a problem with it. You've been taking karate classes, right? And there's a sale at Fakir's today. I was hoping to pick up an original copy of a certain... book."

He blocked it, dodging smoothly even though she had improved greatly. Yes, she could do him serious damage with those legs of hers. But that was only if she could HIT him. He was used to sparring with a far more dangerous fighter, and it showed now as he didn't even fight back, just blocked and dodged.

"Really, Jace, I already told you that you could teach her if you wanted," he said, not even sounding breathless. It was a wonder, though, that such an OCD boy could move like that.

Rory was suddenly more interested in the little fight that was going on, than actually training. She climbed on the tire swing, sting in the whole and holding on to the rope as she watched. They were both good! (Thought secretly she was rooting for Antony, who had started the whole training thing.)

Ya know, even if she was being abandoned.

"It's cool, I'll just watch," Rory replied, still watching.

"Eat me," she said, too proud to tell him of her long and dull nights of studying that seemed to produce little result for all she did it. Even if things were slowly coming up, it was the slowly that pissed her off; at least it was easier in maths, easier in music, where on her last music paper she'd actually received an A and felt mixed pleasure and embarrassament at it. Jace stumbled back -- that was her weak point, her balance, considering the weight distribution of her body -- and fell back into a somersault, coming out of it on her knees, not quite perfect yet at the technique. The grass and the sod broke down as she pushed herself back up at him again, trying to sweep his legs out from under him. Damn Antony to hell.

He did something he usually didn't do unless he had to. He did a backflip, standing on his hands for a brief second before landing on his feet again. Then he cursed. "Now my hands are dirty," he complained. "Rory, could you get my handkerchief out of my bag for me?"