Considering how easily they allow themselves to become distracted, Lita wonders if they'll end up completing the lesson today at all. Between James' roving hands and Lita's traitorous body responding every time he begins to roam, she has half a mind to swap out the hand-to-hand stuff for something a bit more extracurricular.
"Just because you like the idea of me throwing you around a little bit doesn't necessarily mean it's a universal truth," Lita said, drawing herself closer to James as the rough pads of his fingertips brush against the small of her back. "But you're right about my hands. They are a lot more productive when they're helping as opposed to hurting. Bruised knuckles and scraped palms if sustained in the field of battle are one thing. But keeping them pretty in practice wouldn't be the worst idea."
She knows she wouldn't be doing James or herself any favors if she lets things get too out of hand. At least, that's what she thinks until James nips at her throat and starts calling her a one woman killing machine in that honeyed tone of his. It shouldn't be working for her but it does and she lets out a supremely undignified sigh of pleasure.
"Is this part of the lesson? Am I witnessing a James Hawkins' diversionary tactic in action?" She murmurs, biting at the smile playing across her lips. "Should I be taking notes?"
Eventually cooler heads prevail (well, his does at least; Lita is still somewhat dumbfounded and left standing there, breathless and flushed) and they separate. James tries to bring some semblance of order back to the proceedings, albeit belatedly, and Lita appreciates his effort to get a hold on the afternoon before it flies off the rails in a flurry of swollen-lipped kisses. She tries to follow his lead, though his light rebuke is met with some serious eye rolling.
"It's not my fault you're so easily distracted," she replies airily, all arched eyebrows and smirking mouth. But she obliges him all the same, balling up her right fist. She is careful to wrap her thumb around her second and third finger instead of tucking it inside against her palm. She'd seen more than one shattered digit from a poorly-executed punch and she had no plans on taking herself out of the game before she can really dig into the finer points of knocking someone's lights out. She asserts a stance that feels natural and solid; bent knees, abdomen tensed, feet staggered and placed slightly wider than her hips.
"So, where would you say you picked up these moves you're teaching me?" Lita asks, bouncing a bit on her toes in anticipation. "Bruce Lee movies? Tekken 2? Knocking kids into puddles for their lunch money?"
Lita knows James has had scrapes with the law; he's admitted to such with the beer and convenience store debacle. She also well aware of the reputation the Hellhounds carry 'round these parts and while she cannot fathom some of the wilder tales as truth, Lita knows James must have picked more than a few pointers out in the real world.