Page 84 of Sloth
“Keep your pants on. I just want to get better at containing my powers so I can go out and physically search for Max.”
“Fair enough. Where do you want to start?”
Sloan blinked and realized she’d been completely rude. The moment Tony had mentioned something he was interested in—who cares if it was a woman—Sloan had changed the subject. Damn her.
“I’ll start with an apology.”
“Sorry?”
“I’ve not been fair on you. The pranking, and… well… you’re going through something and I’ve not even asked how you’re handling it.”
“I’m not going through anything.”
“Tony,” she admonished. “You almost puked during the mission to the black site from lack of alcohol. Maybe you did. I never asked.”
“Can we drop it?”
She couldn’t force him to speak about it. “If you want, I’m sure I can get you introduced to the woman on Max’s team. Her name is Bailey.”
“I was kidding.” He narrowed his eyes as if he suspected her words were another prank.
“I’m serious.”
“And I said drop it. So… where are we starting? What do you want, acting lessons?”
She sighed. Okay, she supposed she deserved his hesitance. Onward and upward, she guessed. “So, I’m having trouble conjuring the memory of the right emotion during periods of elevated stress.”
He nodded, eyes glued to her.
She continued, “As you know, I can recall the feeling of sleep the best, but sometimes, like with those wild beastie-animals, I couldn’t call forth a feeling on purpose in a rush. The only time I could was when I actually got hurt or if I had time to concentrate. I want to be able to do it on command, during stressful moments, and I want to be able to pull up a variety of helpful emotions.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, I think I know how to help.” He gestured for her to come closer. “First, come stand next to me and face the mirror.”
Feeling awkward, she shuffled next to him and stared at their reflections, side by side. Immediately, she felt inadequate next to the perfect specimen standing next to her, but then she looked harder. She hadn’t looked much since she’d resumed her training, and now that she was, it was easy to see how much she’d changed. Her crop top only covered her chest, but left her midriff free. She had abs. There was not a layer of fat on her body. Her curved hips fit snuggly into her leggings. Her legs were toned—not the cracking nuts kind of toned like Tony’s—but still, toned. Seeing that for the first time sent her eyes roaming over the rest of her body. Flexing her fists, the small muscles in her arms bulged. Nice.
Tony caught her self admiration and smirked. “And they call me conceited.”
“Shut up,” she laughed. “It’s just that… I’ve not noticed my body in a while.”
“I’ve seen you down here for hours every day. You worked hard and now you look good, sis.”
She smiled at him. “Thanks.”
They shared a moment of mutual connection, then a shadow flickered over his gaze and he turned back to the mirror. “Okay, so this method is called the Chekhov Acting Technique. Basically, to recall an emotional memory, we act it out. Then the idea is that through repeating physical actions, your recollection will come stronger, and with little effort.”
“Not to point out the obvious, but how will I find time to act out an emotion if I’m in the heat of battle?”
“We start with acting out the gestures here, then we internalize them. With enough training, you’ll be able to recall that earlier physicalized emotion. So, act, internalize, act, internalize. We do it until you can recall that emotion without effort.”
“That makes a lot of sense, bras. I should have come to you for help a long time ago.”
His lip twitched. “What have I told you about calling me a ladies undergarment?” Then he folded his arms and held his chin between his forefinger and thumb, watching her. “Okay. Start.”
“Just like that?”
