2007-06-23: Self-Defense Courses


Namir_icon.gif Samantha_icon.gif


Namir teaches Samantha a bit of Krav Maga, at her request. During training, they discuss a few things, such as the recent revelation of William's homosexuality, and Samantha's conversation with Judah. They begin to make plans to for a couple weeks' getaway to stretch the limits of powers. Namir loves Samantha; Samantha loves Namir.

Date It Happened: June 23rd, 2007

Self-Defense Courses

Namir's Apartment, Queens.

Furniture has been rearranged in Namir's living room, but not because he's working on feng shui. The couch and coffee table have been shoved back, opening the middle of the floor so that a standard mat could be placed there. Today is a training day. He's been schooling Sam in Krav Maga for a few weeks, whenever there's been time (and considering both of their occupations, that's not saying much), and this is one such a free moment. As is the general custom of such training, he's tried to pick a time during which she will be tired: after work. Thus he emerges from the bedroom, pulling on a black tanktop to go with the black athletic pants. "Ready?"

Samantha has on a pair of yoga pants, on top of that, a sports bra. Her hair's been braided back out of the way. She's grinning; she's been nattering him to give her lessons for some time now. "As I'll ever be." she declares, adding, "I warmed up a little, but if you think I should do more, I'll follow your lead."

"This ought to be fine," responds Namir, adjusting the hem of his tanktop and rolling his neck. He hasn't warmed up too much either, really, unless one includes shoving furniture around. "We'll just start off slow, hmm? I'll teach you how to get out of some basic chokes first." He turns to put his back to Sam, staring straight ahead. "Come put your hands around my neck." Subconsciously, he bends backwards a bit to accommodate the height difference.

Samantha looks faintly amused by the effort, but obliginly takes a few steps toward him and as she puts her hands around his neck notes, "Choking from behind is dumb. Your fingers can't provide a very good constriction unless you're exceedingly strong."

That gets a grin from Namir. "Yes, well, muggers aren't all doctors either." Once he's being 'choked', he returns to the lesson: "Here's how this works: you'll bring your arms up and around— " he demonstrates by bringing his hands up and over his shoulders, firmly clasping Samantha by the wrists "— and use that motion to pull your attacker's hands down your shoulders— " which he again proceeds to do. "As you're doing this, step back at a 45-degree angle— " he moves his left foot back "— and using the continuous downward motion of your right arm, you'll strike back here, at the groin." He moves slowly, and though it's somewhat awkward due to the differences in height, he's able to make the transition smoothly enough. "This not only breaks the hold, it will also be rather disabling for your attacker, and it will allow you to move into a position that allows you to attack further." He smirks. "Got it?"

Samantha bites her lip, stepping back and mimicking his gestures after he's exhibited them on her. "I think so." she says. "But you don't actually want me to do any of that to you, right? I mean, not at full effort."

Namir can't help but chortle as he straightens out of the ending stance and turns to face her. "Oh dear God, no. I don't want to spend the rest of the evening holding ice on my, ah, crotch. We'll just take it slow at first, as I said." Then he motions for Sam to turn around so that he might 'choke' her in turn. His grip isn't terribly life-threatening, of course; being non-violent is part of the 'going slow' process.

Samantha mimics his gestures as she was taught, but she does them quite slowly. After she's 'disengaged' them, turning she inquires, "Is this the part where I smash his nose into his brain?" She's being somewhat facetious, only because well, it's funny. But she knows that he knows she's kidding, and knows she knows he knows. Anyway. It's all about who's in the know.

"Well, you could," laughs Namir, "but we'll just work with this for now. That was good! Try to keep your grip firmer on the wrists, and don't release the left one so soon. Again." And this time, when he steps up to choke, he attempts conversation: "So. You knew William was gay, hmm?" Because training under distractions means better preparation later.

Samantha echoes her earlier movements, and doesn't seem to mind the distraction. Because having to do four things at once in the ER is cake to her. "Well, I had a pretty good feeling. It was a vibe. Not a hundred percent foolproof, but you know - good enough."

"I didn't pick up a vibe." Because Namir is the quintessential man of Gaydar, of course. "Again, a little faster." He moves in for the choke once more. "What was it that clued you in?"

"It's hard to define gaydar." she says, and follows his orders accordingly. "And really, trying to categorize just winds up creating a really bad precedent for stereotyping. I could've just as easily been wrong, but I'm not surprised that I wasn't."

"Mm." It's still unnerving that Namir didn't even suspect. He'd always thought that he was a fairly good judge of people, and maybe he's already become a victim of stereotyping. After all, William isn't exactly stereotypical, and it's scary. "Again, faster. This time, try an elbow to the face afterward." His grip is tighter around Sam's throat this time, though it remains well within the boundaries of 'safe'. "I hope he hasn't been …" But he trails off, because that sort of thing is also uncomfortable to talk about.

"You know, this is so not my kink." Just because she knows the comment will startle him, and executes the maneuver a bit faster, with growing confidence. "What? Pining for you? If he has, he's aware that you're straight and is being respectful of it. And if he has - be flattered and move on with life." Elbow brushes his nose lightly.

'Kink' is one of those four-letter words that is also in the 'uncomfortable' part of the vocabulary, but Namir is able to go with his own training and keep his focus. As such, he's able to remain aware enough to at least avoid injury, but that elbow comes a little too close. He blinks at it, as though wondering just how it got so near, then snorts and places a casual kiss on it. "Good." Then he straightens again. "Glad to hear it, because I don't enjoy choking you either." He smirks, but it fades quickly. "It's not as easy as all that, you know. It's just … it would be like if you found out Bekah was a lesbian."
Samantha looks baffled. "Why would I care if Bekah was a lesbian?" she asks. Welcome to cultural diversity at its finest.

Well. That analogy didn't take quite as well as he thought it would. "Well, you wouldn't," Namir responds with a slight frown, "but it would still be a bit … shocking, and uncomfortable." Wouldn't it? Maybe Sam handles these things better than he does. Then again, he's not had much experience in these matters. Turning to put his side toward her and bending slightly, he grunts, "Come here and put me in a headlock."

"I'd only find it uncomfortable if Bekah hit on me, but then I'd be equally uncomfortable if a man I wasn't interested in hit on me. I wasn't raised to regard homosexuality as a stigma, Namir. What someone does in their own bedroom is their business, so long as everyone involved is consenting and of suitable age." She moves to stand next to him, curls her arm around his neck and shoulders, and tries to drag it down to her hip, locking her wrists. "Like this?"

"I was raised differently." And it's not always easy overcoming stigmas taught from childhood. He grunts softly when he's headlocked, deciding now that he should have limbered up a bit more, but it's too late for that now. Instinctively, Namir steps forward, maintaining his balance. "Just like that. Now, when your attacker attempts this, you go with the motion just as I've done. Tuck your chin down until it touches your chest, step forward, and bring your outside arm around to hit the groin— " he demonstrates with the arm furthest from Sam. "You will then use your other arm to bring your hand up into your attacker's face— " he again demonstrates, bringing his opposite hand up along her spine "— placing your index finger directly beneath the nose and your thumb beneath the chin. You'll tilt his head back, like so, and pull your elbow down." As he does so, he straightens slowly, effectively attempting to bring Sam down to one knee. "As you can see, it puts him on the floor and puts you in a position to thrust the heel of your hand up into his nose — or push his nose up into his brain, as you put it so nicely before."

"Excellent." she says cheerfully. For a doctor, she seems to have no problem with hurting people. Hyppocratic wuh? She practices the technique a few times, and is careful to avoid actually harming him in some fashion. "I don't know how good I'll be at this in application." she admits. "But I suppose thrashing mindlessly wouldn't be as useful.

It's actually much more fun to be on the giving end of the training, rather than the receiving. Namir doesn't have to concentrate so much on the movements, though he remains alert in case of injury — because that wouldn't be fun. At all. "Well, we haven't gotten very deep into the training yet," he states as he rises to his feet again after the latest practice. "Once you've got it down, it comes as a reflex, which is the entire point. So if someone were to attack you and grab you in a headlock— " which he now attempts to do, moving fast — but it's a playful gesture, as indicated by the grin on his face "— you'll automatically react appropriately."

Samantha tries to get out of the grip, failing that, she actually tries to foot stomp and elbow him in the gut. It's probably expected though, so she's not worried about hurting him.

It is rather expected, and so Namir has no problem lifting his foot out of danger. He takes the elbow to his gut in stride, tensing his abdomen to absorb it without too much pain. However, he doesn't release his grip either. Instead, he starts to turn toward the couch with a casual sort of air, grinning wider. "Come on, Sam, you didn't forget it already, did you?"

Samantha protests. "I went for the groin!" And she did, too. "Just because I'd rather not damage it, you pick on me." she grumbles.

Namir can't help but laugh at that: a short mirthful burst. "I'd rather you not damage it too," he chuckles before dipping to place a kiss atop her head and finally releasing his hold. He then turns and sprawls onto the couch with a sigh, smiling up at her and adding, "I love you."

Samantha pauses a moment, her lips curving into a smile. "What a remarkable coincidence. As it happens I love you." She moves to drop onto the couch, draping on him so her back's to his chest. "Even though you drive me batshit." she adds slyly.

Whoof! Naturally, the only thing to do when one has a girl draped over him is to wrap one's arms around her, which is precisely what Namir does. That addendum causes him to grin again, and he buries his face into the side of Sam's neck. "Mm, is it even though or is it because I drive you batshit?" he asks between playful smooches to her neck and cheek. Then with a sigh, he ceases. "I should get a shower, because I probably smell like a gym." But he's comfortable and makes no moves to rise.

"Showering will happen." Sam promises. She makes no move to rise, either. For a moment she considers asking him about - no, no need to spoil the lovely mood.

"Mm." That is Namir's comprehensive and wonderfully articulate response to the promise about showering. He really is comfortable and content, and that makes talking low on the list of priorities. But then Sam pauses, and his eyebrows go up lazily. "Hmm? What?"

Samantha mmms. "I got a visit from Judah the other day." she says. "We talked about some things, but one thing was a rehash of the fact that Sylar's still out there. Regardless though - what do you think of my idea of renting a cabin for a week or two and doing some exploration of our powers? We could invite folks we know and trust."

The name of 'Sylar' really is a rather sour note in an otherwise excellent moment, and Namir's arms tighten just a bit. He 'mms' again, but it's much less contented than the first. The change of subject is more than welcome. "I think it's a wonderful idea. We should do it." He smiles faintly. "I don't think I've had much of an opportunity to really stretch my limits lately."

Samantha admits, "I don't use what I do all that often. It'd be good to practice."

It's not hard to see why. There aren't many practical, everyday uses for an ability like Sam's. Namir nods a little, though he does his very best not to move too much due to the aforementioned comfort. "When should we do it, do you think? And who should we bring along? Bekah? Erica?"

"We could ask them, yes. But we'd have to make them aware that others will be coming, so they'd know about their abilities. William, too." Sam remains relaxed as she uses Namir as a body pillow. "I don't know any others off the top of my head, well - maybe one. I'm not sure."

Due to recent developments, the mention of William coming along causes some unease with Namir. His heart thuds once and his stomach seems to drop slightly, but he doesn't mention it. "Who?"

Samantha mmms. "I don't want to say yet. Not until I know for sure, and not until I've got permission to share it if it is true. But I promise if I can tell you, I will. Alright?"

"All right." Namir is unruffled by the secrecy, knowing full well that these sorts of things are fairly touchy. After all, he wouldn't appreciate it if Sam went around telling everyone she knew about what he can do. A slow grin pulls up the corners of his lips, and he adds in a murmur, "It's that fine Jewish doctor you've been seeing behind my back, isn't it?" The one he just made up off the top of his head.

Samantha gasps and turns on her side to gaze on him in horror. "How did you know?" She'll hold that expression for a few seconds before she starts cackling evilly.

Ha! "I have spies," declares Namir very mysteriously, before he tosses back his head and throws up his arms in mock despair. "I knew it! You could never be with a Muslim! My strange eating habits have caused you to forsake me!" Woe is Namir! Woe!

Samantha takes this opportunity to bite his neck. There will be more of this hanky panky on the couch and shower, but because NBC has certain standards, the commercial break will return after the fact.

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