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The man’s name is Joel. She finds that out the same night he agrees to train her.
All the softness he carried that night went out the window as soon as he agreed to it, and she could tell he was trying really hard to seem mean and stoic and unaffected. He told her his name, and what he’s going to train her in. He gave her this big long list of skills he’s going to teach, and she wanted to ask a hundred thousand questions about why some guy knows about this from hand to hand combat, all the way down to crisis mediation. But, unfortunately, he made the whole ‘keep their histories to themselves’ thing pretty clear, and she’s not going to risk losing her vigilante teacher over her curiosity.
That night, he took her one floor down to the old loft apartment and gave her very stern instructions to meet him here this Sunday at ten o’clock in the morning. At first, she made the mistake of asking why in the morning. Then he gave her a very gentle explanation about how these apartments are abandoned, and someone would notice if lights were on in them at night. He softened during the explanation, then he stuck the hard mask right back on when he bit a comment at her asking if she had anywhere better to be.
The truth was, no. Ellie didn’t have anywhere better to be on a Sunday morning. She’s not religious, only going to any services when her foster parents made her, and she usually spends her weekends bumming around the city because anything is better than her too quiet and too empty dorm room.
Sunday mornings used to be for quiet laughter as she and Riley snuck out the window to get brunch at a waffle place halfway across the city from the school. Now, she wakes up to silence, and she goes to bed to silence.
So, Ellie really has no problem with going to meet Joel on Sunday mornings. She rolls herself out of bed with her nine-thirty alarm, still in her suit from the night before, and jumps out the window. On the way to his, she helps direct some tourists, grabs a dozen donuts and a breakfast skillet from her favorite diner, and she helps a couple of firefighters overturn a flipped delivery truck because their equipment is in serious need of an upgrade. She also ends up giving them some of her donuts, which she may or may not regret later, depending on how much work Joel makes her do.
All that to say, Ellie might be a teeny-tiny bit late when she gets to Joel’s. Just, like, twenty minutes. It’s not even that late. By her standards, she’s actually early!
Joel doesn’t seem too amused when she explains that to him.
“Look, man, I’m sorry,” Ellie says as sincerely as she can manage, dropping the over-the-top tone and gestures she tends to adopt as Spider-Woman. “I’m not trying to waste your time, I swear. I’m serious about this.”
He inspects her for a moment. She doesn’t know why. It’s not like he can read her expression. He’s the one who insisted on her keeping the mask on at all times. Whatever he’s looking for, he must find. Or not find. Either way, he drops his shoulders the slightest bit and the lines of his frown soften to match.
“Don’t be late again,” is all he says.
“Sir, yes, sir,” Ellie salutes, standing at attention.
He makes a face. “Don’t call me sir.”
“Then what should I call you?” she asks, flopping down on the floor and opening the styrofoam tray with her skillet in it. “Sensei? Captain? Coach?”
“Joel,” he says. “I’m just Joel.”
“Ugh, fine,” she groans. “You’re no fun, Joel.”
“This ain’t supposed to be fun,” he says sternly. “Now, c’mon. Put that shit away. You don’t want to be moving around on a full stomach.”
“I don’t want to be moving around on an empty one, either,” Ellie argues. “I’m a growing boy, Joel. And I just swung all the way here. Unless you want me to pass out on you, I need my calories. It’s eggs-tremely important. ”
His eyebrows pop up a little as his face goes completely dead. Not in the same emotionless way it tends to, but more like he’s just realized something. Like, in an ‘ oh my god, what on earth have I agreed to?’ kind of way. He crosses his arms over his chest, and tips his head back for a moment, then he sighs and nods. She’s pretty sure he just talked himself into not walking out of this loft.
Mostly, Ellie is just thinking about how much this dude sighs. He does it all the time. She would make a comment about it, but she’s already on thin ice. She’s been on thin ice since her first encounter with the dude.
“Fine, eat your breakfast,” Joel concedes.
Then he does something she never thought she’d see him do. He sits down. Seeing him standing around with socked feet and sweatpants and an old t-shirt was bizarre enough to her. He’s always been in what she likes to call classic blue-collar chic with layered flannels and Levi jeans and grounded boots.
Joel sits himself down in the closest he can get to a straddle and starts stretching. He makes the most stereotypical little old man grunts as he stretches, and they fall into a comfortable silence. She’s still a little wigged out by seeing him sitting and being so casual.
“So, Joel,” Ellie starts, “you want a donut?”
Joel makes a face.
“Okay, no donuts,” she says. “What’s the plan for today?”
“You said you don’t know anything, right?” he asks, and she nods. “Right, so. I figure we start with the basics. Stances. Form. How to throw a punch without breaking your hand.”
Ellie glances down at his still bandaged hand. He catches her gaze.
“It ain’t always fool proof,” he explains. “You hit something hard enough, it doesn’t matter how good your form is, you’re breakin’ your hand.”
Oh. She nods. “So, forms and stances. Anything else?”
“Let’s see how you do with that to start,” Joel says, on the verge of teasing and giving her something that might be considered a smile.
Alright. Looks like they’re making progress.