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Micah did not notice the demands in Jett's speech. She did not, however let her temper flare this time. Nope, she'd made enough of a fool of herself for one day, thank you. She clenched her jaw and did as she was told quietly, fearful that anything she said while her vision was tinted red would be offensive. The only saving grace was that Jett's words had a friendly edge to them. And that Micah knew she was pretty much invading on his space right now. For those reasons and a few others Micah only held out her hands and allowed them to be strapped into the gloves that had been offered to her.

Once on, Micah tapped them together as she'd seen done in movies. Looking up and Jett, Micah began to grin brightly. "How do I look," she asked brightly, striking a pose in her cotton grey shorts, white wife beater, and dirty black tennis shoes. "Like I could go a few rounds with Ali." That was the only boxer she knew, really. She rubbed her wild curls with the glove and blushed a little, still grinning. "Now do I just... go at it?" She looked back at the punching bag, beginning to circle it like a vulture. "Any real... plan of attack or just..." She swung softly at it, watching it swing in the air.

But Micah was so good at bet s**t! She feigned a pout at Jett as he scolded her, lower lip pushing itself out more than it already did. Was this flirting? She'd never done that before. Never had a reason to, really. The thought made her blush, heat rising to her face and causing her to looked down at her feet. Oh dear. This certainly was an odd sensation. She wasn't sure she liked it. No. She was very certain she did not like it. Since when was she some blushing school girl? This never happened when she lived in Iowa! She never did anything like this! She stayed with her books and her temper and didn't even bother with boys or girls.

Never mind her mother. Micah's mother was a fighter, more so than Micah. Her mother's attacks were focused. They always hit where they needed to, and her mother never lost her head. If her mother's honor was impugned, then her mother could deal with it. Micah didn't need to deal with it. It was the fact that Jett had, somehow, gotten Micah to blush. No one got Micah to blush. Micah didn't like to blush. There was a lot she didn't like. Spider, people lying to her, heights... and blushing. It was a stupid, vapid, simpering thing to do. It never accomplished anything.

As her temper grew she heard less and less of what Jett was saying. She ground her teeth together and lowered her head and curved her back in what would have been a perfectly intimidating stance for dogs. As far as functioning for a real fight goes, however, it was sloppy and useless. She growled lightly at Jett and lashed out, knowing that he was behind the bag and she had only to get around that. What better way than to go through it? Her fist connected with the bag and the shock went though her arm and up to her shoulder where it ran painfully into the joint. She cursed and yanked her arm back, rubbing her shoulder.

Micah bore her teeth in some primal show of agression the second Jett stepped into her view. Her temper roared higher and higher, pumping the blood to her face in an angry version of the blush that had started this whole thing. It never even registered in her mind that Jett hadn't even done anything. Not really, anyway. It was like when Micah had dreams about her brother, and in those dreams he was perfectly horrid to her. Micah would then spend the whole next day growling at him, leaving her poor brother to figure out what he'd done to deserve her wrath. Her jaws snapped at him when he came closer, arm curled back to strike again, this time not at the bag.

The only thing stopping her was the pain in her shoulder. Speaking of knocking something out of socket... Micah was 95 percent sure she hadn't actually dislocated anything, but she was also certain that she'd sparined her shoulder. She hissed, pulling her arm back down to her side, wincing. Great job, Micah. Really smashing preformance. With ehr good arm she kocked the bag, as though to retaliate against it. It only swung back at her mockingly. You can't hurt me. Her eyes flashed again and she growled at the bag. I hate you. It only laughed as it swung.

Jett's voice brought her back to reality. "My mother can take care of herself," she growled rubbing her shoulder. The older woman had all of Micah's temper, but all of the laser precision she lacked. She was able to take her anger and zero in on what casued it, whereas Micah was like a wild fire. All consuming and fast burning. Her mother could go on forever tearing apart her opponent, her control allowing her to do so. Micah could only go for so long before she burned out. "She doesn't need me to defend her."

Blast. Kindness. It was her tempers only weakness. As Jett reassured her, Micah's temper began to purr, settling back down into the smoldering ball, forever sitting like a coal in her stomach. The color receeded from her face and she released much of the tension from her muscles. At least Jett still thought her temper flared because of the potential attack on her mother, and not on the fact that Micah detested blushing. She turned away, gently sliding the gloves from her hands. They were already chafing. She flexed on hand to try and get the blood flowing back through them, pointedly ignoring Jett until her angry blush retreated fully from her face.

Finally she nodded at Jett's suggestion, handing the gloves out to Jett with her good arm, the other cradled across her chest. Alexij would fix it when she got home. The walk would just be... kind of a b***h.

Ice, however, sounded good. Micah averted her eyes from Jett as she passed, crossing to the benches by the lockers. Sitting, for some reason, made her shoulder hurt less. She sighed and leaned back agaisnt the lockers.

"For some reason," she muttered, "even thought I hurt myself... I really want to learn." She grinned to herself. Call it a challenge. When she got hurt, it was like someone telling her should couldn't. So she did.

The we struck Micah rather hard, like a slap to the face. So even though Micah had lost her temper... he still wanted her? She blushed again at the thought, temper rising. She ducked her head down, hiding her hot face behind her hair. Was she really so hopelessly female? Some days she hated her sensitivities. She really hated them today. Why is it when she was attracted to someone, male or female, she found herself fundamentally useless around them? She was so pathetic. She grabbed her injured shoulder and squeezed lightly.

Bad idea. She doubled over as it throbbed, her vision swirling for a moment. She looked at the patch that was handed to her with her lips in a thin, painful line. "You wouldn't... happen to know how to relocate a shoulder, do you," she asked softly, fearing that a louder voice would upset her shoulder. She smiled shyly and continued to cradle her arm. "I seme to have... hurt it more than I previously thought." She gave a mirhtless laugh and winced again. "Ow."

Had Micah’s shoulder not been throbbing so much that her vision swirled with each heart beat, she would have been touched by Jett’s concern. As it stood, she was in a pretty fair amount of pain. Not enough to warrant anything more than a wince as she moved, but enough so that she didn’t want to jostle anything.

Micah knew she should have gone to a doctor. If she had done more than dislocated her shoulder, the results of trying to fix it could be really bad. But that would require moving and living with this pain through the trip to the hospital, triage, x-rays, and the talk the doctor gave before he did anything. And then there was the bill that her family could not foot. This really was the most practical choice to her. Not the smartest, not by a long shot, but the best when all factors were considered.

“Just,” she murmured, eyeing the men behind her suspiciously, “Give me something to bite down on so I don’t hurt myself. A towel or something.” Micah grinned lightly at Jett. “And just think, the sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get to talking about my first official lesson. I wouldn’t want any other teacher but you.” She winked lightly, grin widening.

Micah was under no delusions about her tolerance for pain. It was low. Regrettably low. She tears up when she got paper cuts. She would need the towel, if only to muffle her pained cries a little. And there would be a cacophony. Micah could remember the last time she dislocated something. It had been her pinky, and it wasn’t even that bad of a dislocation. For her, however, it might as well have been the end of her. As it stands, it wasn’t but the point had been made from that day forward that Micah could not handle physical pain. Not in the least.

So, needless to say, when Jett took his place beside Micah she began to quake considerably. She knew that it would hurt a great deal, but she also suspected that once her shoulder was realigned she would feel a great deal better almost instantly. AT least that was what she remembered from her time with her pinky. She’d toted it around out of whack for a whole day to avoid being hurt anymore than she needed to be.

Micah rolled a portion of the towel up and bit down on it. Okay. She was ready.

And Jett was still talking.

Micah’s temper sparked in her stomach as she looked sideways at him, towel still hanging out of her mouth. Why was he still talking? Micah was ready, damn it! “Juff oo eh,” she snapped, fabric making her almost incoherent.

It turned out that the towel did little to contain Micah’s screams as her shoulder popped back into shoulder with an audible crack. The gym fell silent as she cried out, who body tense as the pain radiated down her spine and through her body. Really, the towel would have help if it had stayed in her mouth. But instead of her jaw clenching like she had expected it to; it fell open, letting the towel tumble out and after that her wail of pain. Hot on those heels, however, were a slew of curses that made a few of the larger men blush. On and on she went, not really processing what came from her lips, but instead just vocalizing to try and relieve some of the pain in her shoulder.

But then, as quickly as the pain began, it stopped. And with it stopped her painful howls and cursing. It took Micah a moment to realize what had happened, really. She blinked once. Twice. Three times before her mind caught up with her.

“That wasn’t so bad,” she chirped with a grin, flexing her arm and rotating her shoulder.