[ He sucks in a startled breath, stumbling with the blow but trying to dance back with it. It wasn’t enough to drive him to the ground, or enough to break his concentration entirely, but enough that that same annoyance twists his stomach, sharp and bitter, makes him huff out a sharp breath as he recomposes himself.
Gamora’s better than him at this. He knows that. He’s experienced it. But sometimes, these training sessions feel like Gamora is dangling a carrot in front of him. He gets so close to winning, sometimes – or at least, he thinks he does – and then she jerks and the prize is shifted that much further away. It should feel like progress, but sometimes, it just makes this improving thing feel impossible.
Which apparently is how he’s feeling right now. Peter should learn his lesson, to stay calm, to keep his cool, but— that restlessness claws up his spine again, that tingling sensation flows through him. There’s nothing to show for it, though, as he swings out another wide punch – a haymaker, more akin to the cowboy movies of John Wayne than the easy jabs of Muhammad Ali. ]
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Gamora’s better than him at this. He knows that. He’s experienced it. But sometimes, these training sessions feel like Gamora is dangling a carrot in front of him. He gets so close to winning, sometimes – or at least, he thinks he does – and then she jerks and the prize is shifted that much further away. It should feel like progress, but sometimes, it just makes this improving thing feel impossible.
Which apparently is how he’s feeling right now. Peter should learn his lesson, to stay calm, to keep his cool, but— that restlessness claws up his spine again, that tingling sensation flows through him. There’s nothing to show for it, though, as he swings out another wide punch – a haymaker, more akin to the cowboy movies of John Wayne than the easy jabs of Muhammad Ali. ]