femmejosephine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
femmejosephine) wrote2015-05-07 09:22 pm
femmejosephine) wrote2015-05-07 09:22 pm
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For Porthos: Self-Defense Class
She hadn't been sure about it when one of the shelters had asked her to teach a self-defense class. Well, actually, they'd started by asking if she knew anything about that, and she'd said that she did. She'd lived on the street, after all. Self-defense was required, even without Section training. She'd told them she had never been formally trained in it, and that was true. She'd been trained in offense more than defense.
Still, they'd asked if she'd do it. She'd considered it for a while, then decided she could do it without revealing too many of her skills. She didn't want to do that both for her own safety and to avoid too many awkward questions. Having a murder conviction was a disqualifying detail for almost every shelter, which she understood fully.
Tonight had been the third class. They'd started the course with a discussion of personal safety and personal space, as well as being aware of environments and strategies to get help when you didn't look like someone anyone would want to help. She'd wanted to emphasize to them that there was a mental as well as a physical component to defending oneself. Now they were moving into basic countermeasures, balance shifts, and non-lethal disabling strikes. Everyone, including her, had to be the victim and the attacker at least twice with three different people. She was, not surprisingly, the best at taking people down and at attacking them, even those larger than she was, though she had played her skills down considerably.
When it was over, she was tired, but happy. Her students thanked her as they left, and she hoped that they'd retain something, that they'd be able to defend themselves if needed. Only time would tell, though, and she smiled a little as she flipped the switch to turn the lights in the gym area off.
Still, they'd asked if she'd do it. She'd considered it for a while, then decided she could do it without revealing too many of her skills. She didn't want to do that both for her own safety and to avoid too many awkward questions. Having a murder conviction was a disqualifying detail for almost every shelter, which she understood fully.
Tonight had been the third class. They'd started the course with a discussion of personal safety and personal space, as well as being aware of environments and strategies to get help when you didn't look like someone anyone would want to help. She'd wanted to emphasize to them that there was a mental as well as a physical component to defending oneself. Now they were moving into basic countermeasures, balance shifts, and non-lethal disabling strikes. Everyone, including her, had to be the victim and the attacker at least twice with three different people. She was, not surprisingly, the best at taking people down and at attacking them, even those larger than she was, though she had played her skills down considerably.
When it was over, she was tired, but happy. Her students thanked her as they left, and she hoped that they'd retain something, that they'd be able to defend themselves if needed. Only time would tell, though, and she smiled a little as she flipped the switch to turn the lights in the gym area off.
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As for things feeling wrong within her heart or whatever, she could understand that.
"Got my own code of ethics. I try not to violate it. It's not everyone's code, but it's mine and it helps me sleep at night. Sometimes."
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"What's your code, then?"
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That all but acknowledged that she did hurt non-innocent people, and it left a lot of room for interpretation, but it came down to that. She'd lie, cheat, steal, and even kill if she needed to, but she wouldn't hurt innocents. And that didn't work for Section. She thought of Stanley again, of how idealistic he'd been, and how he was at the last moments of his life. Section had done that to him. They said she had, since she hadn't killed him when she was told, but Section had done it.
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"It did. But as far as I could, as far as I was able, I didn't hurt innocents," she replied. "The, uh, people I worked for, they didn't like loose ends. It was a point of disagreement between us."
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"I am," she confirmed. "Putting it all behind me, best I can. Which sometimes isn't that far, but you do what you can."
She couldn't stop the automatic judgment of everyone's threat level, nor would she ever be a warm, open, trusting person, but she was working on it. She was always armed, but she never wanted to draw. It was an important distinction, at least in her mind.
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"You seem to be doing that with the shelter, though," he says, of the putting it behind her part. "You enjoy it?"
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"I do. I focus on defensive moves, not offensive," she explained, though he might have been able to see that if he'd watched enough of the class. "It goes with the not hurting innocents - and helping them not to be hurt."
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"So, then, we make a team," she teased lightly. "I teach defense and then I send the ones who want it to learn offense with you."
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"Good for you. Plenty of kids need a good home. Stability, love, maybe a biscuit after dinner. Can't do much better than that."
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"Whatever your family looks like, I'm sure it'll be a good one. And I'm glad you're not forgetting the orphans. Don't forget the ones who are practically orphans, either, though," she suggested.
"I mean, I'm not an orphan, officially, for all that I haven't seen my mum in ten years. I could have used a safe place a few times."
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She could see why Aramis would be concerned about that, for all that she'd never met the man. Loving and caring for one kid was one thing, but you could get burnt out really fast with foster kids. She knew that.
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"I get that," she agreed. "I'm thinking of suggesting to my boss that we have sort of a ... pay it forward system at the restaurant. If you can pay for an extra meal, do it, then we'll have them available for people who can't pay. I saw it at a pizza place once."
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