Oh not this again. Hobbs pivoted, brought his fist up as if to strike her, but Hattie was on him before Luke could properly brace his feet. She swept his right leg out from under him, dropped him like a ton of bricks and hooked her legs around his neck as if to roll him. Hobbs' head bounced off the thick blue mat upon impact, then next he knew, his body was twisting and he found himself being flipped onto his stomach.

"You done yet?" Luke groaned, trying to prop himself up on one arm after she stopped tossing him like a ragdoll. "That was a low blow, Hattie."

She grinned, straddled his waist while Hattie fixed her hair once more into a ponytail. It'd grown a good two inches these past few months, allowing her dark roots to push through the remnants of her dye job. "Not quite."

"What's that supposed to—" Another flip and he was on his back, staring up at the smirking Englishwoman with her knees resting either side of him. "This isn't going to be painful, is it?"

"No." Hattie leaned down, braced her right hand next to his head, and kissed him. Luke lifted his upper body, responding eagerly to her impatient tug on his bottom lip, then he pulled her closer till she was almost flush against him. "I think we've had enough pain for one day."

"You know, I could use more of this," he said. "Call it therapy for all the times you've used me as a practise dummy."

"Hmm. What else would this therapy entail?"

"For starters, that shirt of yours needs to come off."

"Oh."

"And these pants." Hobbs lifted his hips off the floor and tugged at his waistband. "They're very uncomfortable."

"Guess I'd better help you then."