Scott got back to me that same day while I was at the diner. Seems Mark and Chester are local delivery guys whose day starts and ends way early, so 2pm was doable. Scott said he was a "kind of investment manager," which apparently means he can set his own hours. I don't know how an investment manager ends up spending his days in a dive bar with truck drivers, but, since he also bets on illegal cage matches, perhaps he's a fiduciary scuzzball.

Ted had said he was retired from wrestletainment, but I assumed he had a new, nonexhibitionistic career. If he does, it didn't stop him from meeting us and the Murray's gang at the coffeeshop. I bought a round of coffee, thinking dinner would have been cheaper, and we chatted for a bit before invading Flying Tigers.

Master Shen was not happy to see me. "I thought you said you weren't coming back."

The Murray's crowd had said the same thing. I should probably not make that promise so much. "Yeah, well, we needed a practice room. And the guys really wanted to meet you. This is Mark, Chester and Scott. I met them at Murray's."

Tony's face took on an "oh shit" hue.

"And this here's Ted. He's gonna be running training. Hope it's okay that we use this place...you know, since you sent my business their way I thought it only fair I bring some business to you."

"I've got classes to teach! You can't just..."

"Your next class is at three PM, right? We should be done by then. How's fifty bucks sound?"

Tony had to think about that. Offering money legitimized the situation some. He clearly didn't want us there, but he had less reasonable argument if we weren't demanding space for free. "What if I say no?"

"Are you going to say no? Seems kinda rude under the circumstances."

The guys had spread out into the room, nonchalantly checking the place out. At that point they had Tony surrounded. It was entirely possible he possessed the skill to deal with four guys off the street, but not if we added Tsu'na and/or me. So he kept it in business terms. "A hundred."

"Seventy five."

I paid Tony. Tsu'na asked where she could change, and Tony pointed her to a locker room. She returned in her cage match gear with her miqo'te attributes clearly visible. Scott had seen it before; the other men (including Tony) tried to look studious as they checked her out. "What's with the ears and tail?" asked Ted.

Tsu'na glanced at me before answering, "They are my shtick."

"Gimmicks are cool, but are they gonna come off when you fight?"

"No."

"If you say so. Okay, first off, let's see how you handle getting hit."

I looked over at Mustache and Choker. "Hey Mark, wanna throw a punch at her?"

Choker (that answered that) responded, "Uh, no, I can't hit a lady."

"It's okay, she's a pro. She can take it."

"Yeah, sorry, no."

He'd been kind of flirting with her at Murray's; maybe he thought he still had a chance with her. We could disabuse him of that idea later if necessary. I turned to Mustache. "Chester? How about that gut punch you tried on me?"

Chester (née Mustache) looked uncertain, but stepped forward to Tsu'na, who simply stood in front of him. "Uh...you ready?"

Tsu'na just smiled.

Chester nodded, worked his shoulders a bit, shuffled and swung.

There's a scene in Dragonball Z where a woman is offering to throw a prize fight to the reigning champ in exchange for a chunk of the prize money and no notoriety. The champ agrees and punches her in the gut.

"That's it? That's all you've got?"

"Well...yeah."

"Ugh. The things I do for my family."

I could totally see Tsu'na playing that role right then, though what she gave Chester was more extreme indifference accented by a raised eyebrow. "Would you like to try again?" she asked.

I couldn't tell if Chester had pulled his punch, but his face and body language suggested he wouldn't pull the next one. Even more than the gut punch he'd tried on me at Murray's, he put his back and shoulder into it. Not that it made a difference; Tsu'na just stood there and looked at him.

Ted looked confused. Tony looked bleak. Chester looked frustrated.

It's not that we don't feel pain. Sure we do; it's a natural consequence of fighting. But do enough fighting and you don't react to the pain like normal people would. It becomes a metric, a measure of how tough your opponent is and how incapacitated you are. You don't have the time or the need to visibly react to pain while you're fighting. And we've done a lot of fighting.

My magnificent miqo'te was magnificent, but that wasn't what we needed right then. "Okay," I said. "Let's try a little Stanislavski."

Tsu'na peered at me as I stepped forward. "What is Stanislavski?"

"He was a theatre guy who believed realism on stage helped actors get into the right mindset for acting." I clapped Chester on the shoulder and took his place in front of my wife. "This is gonna hurt."

She smiled indulgently.

I reached into my inventory and pulled out an apple and my culinary knife. Tsu'na watched as I cut the apple in half, then looked up at me inquiringly.

I put the knife away and held the cut apple up for her. "Smell this."

She eyed me as she took a sniff. "It smells like an apple."

"Do you like the smell?"

"I smell apples when I make pies. I do not dislike it."

"Smell it again. Breathe it in deeply."

"Is this a...theatre thing?"

"Yes, my love. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Fill yourself with the scent. Let it be all you think about."

Her brow furrowed, but she did as I asked. Her eyes closed. Her chest rose as she took a deep breath.

Then I punched her in the gut.

Her eyes flew open. The wind whooshed out of her. She shuddered slightly as she got her breath back, then looked up at me with shock and anger...which slowly turned to thoughtfulness. "This is what I should feel when Chester hits me."

"Yes. Or, at least, that's what it should look like you feel."

She scowled at me. "You like words. You could not have used words to tell me this?"

"Realism. Now you have a baseline."

"I may have realism for you when you sleep tonight."

"Noted. Okay, Chester, wanna have another go?"

The guys were looking at me like I was insane. They had no idea what my baseline for sanity is these days. Chester dutifully stepped up as I retreated. I stowed the apple in inventory. As Chester readied himself to punch my wife again, Scott quietly said, "I can't believe you did that."

"We're tough. We can be rough with each other."

"Yeah, but that was a solid punch!"

"We have a solid relationship."

"Hope so."

Chester was at least getting a response from Tsu'na with his punches...she dutifully blew out air and doubled over. But even Chester could see that it wasn't actually from the punch; there was the slightest delay between the two. She reacted at the point of contact, but it was clearly a reaction, a response. Not a consequence.

Ted moved in with advice, suggesting she try reacting a bit sooner, like when the punch was coming in. That looked a little better, though the timing was still a bit off. But it was starting to look like something that would come with practice.

"How you holding up, Chester?"

He was rubbing his shoulder. "'S like punchin' an elephant."

"I'll forgive you for that because I know it's true. Need a break?"

Tony had been losing his dread, replacing it with fascination. Combat choreography was clearly a new thing for him. I turned to him. "Master Shen. Wanna take a turn?"

He looked from her to me. "How hard do I hit her?"

"Up to you."

He moved to stand in front of her. Their eyes met for a moment, then he shifted into what was probably his board-breaking stance. His fist snapped out, fast enough to be hard to track; it struck her in her midsection and retreated.

Tsu'na wobbled slightly, then looked at Ted. "That was a very fast punch. Should I still fold like before?"

"You can, or you can do a slower reaction...put your hand on your belly and lean forward, like the pain's taking you by surprise." He eyed her. "That didn't hurt?"

She shrugged.

Ted guided her through the motions as Tony struck her again, and then again. With each punch, and her theatrically trained response, his face got slightly more grim. I think he was trying harder and harder to get a pain reaction out of her. Maybe I should have told him to get used to disappointment.

When Tony too showed signs of getting tired we decided to call it a day. I hadn't talked about any sort of payment with the Murray's guys, but they were content with a promise to buy a couple rounds of drinks. Scott had sold Mark and Chester on the idea of making money betting on Cat's Meow, which made this practice time an investment. Ted said it was the most fun he'd had in years.

We didn't offer Tony a drink. He was getting our cash, after all. I did have some parting words for him, though.

"So, Master Shen...I hope we can keep what we do here confidential. My wife's career depends on it. She might get mad if something happens to her career. I might get mad if something makes her mad. You can understand that, right?"

He glared at me, but nodded.

I smiled. "Good talk."

Later, after our diner shift, I woke up in the middle of the night from a kick to my gut. When I got my breath back, I said, "Nice realism, my love."

"Thank you, Husband."