WHO: Dolores and Diego WHEN: Monday, February 24th WHERE: Tano Gym WHAT: An attempted lesson in self-defence WARNINGS: Only hints of the hellscape that lurks in Westworld
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Diego still hadn't wrapped his mind around the fact that he was actually in Texas through some weird portal that didn't make any sense. Sure, they had tried to explain it to him but since it was guards that were there waiting on his arrival, his attention had been split, at best. No matter, he wasn't the sort to dwell. Not when there was a well-equipped gym that he could take advantage of. He didn't need to sit down and talk to work out how to deal with the last twenty-four hours. He just needed a punching bag.
He was taking a break and drinking water when Dolores walked in. It was hard to miss her or not know who she was, given that she looked like someone who would be talking about the cost of cattle. He grabbed a towel and wiped off his forehead, then made his way over to her. "Dolores," he greeted her. "I'm Diego. Glad you made it."
As gruff and unfriendly as he could be at times, the gym was where he was in his element, and having seen crime scenes in action, he never turned down an opportunity if someone wanted to be better prepared to handle themselves. He didn't offer her a hand, however, substituting an apology instead. "Sorry. You caught me mid-workout."
Ever since Klaus had pointed out her clothing was quite right, or appeared to be a costume more precisely, Dolores was a bit self-conscious of her appearance. It became more difficult to not notice how nobody else dressed all that similarly to herself, even if it was what she was most accustomed to and most comfortable in. Sure, plenty of the men were wearing cowboy hats and the boots, but some of the things she’d seen other ladies wearing was admittedly a bit much for her, or really a bit too little.
But if she thought she’d been overthinking the issue, Dolores immediately realized the moment she walked into the gym that her clothing wasn’t really suitable for this. She looked around briefly, taking in all the equipment and the people using it, feeling incredibly out of place. Maybe she’d made a mistake, but before she could change her mind, Diego was introducing himself.
“This wasn’t what I imagined,” she admitted a bit apologetically herself. “Did you want me to come back later?”
"What? No," he replied, knowing that she had somewhat reluctantly taken this first step, it would be harder to get her back. "Come with me." He didn't check to make sure she was following, just led her over to a couple weightlifting benches that would suffice as seating for the time being.
"You never know when you might need to defend yourself," he pointed out, the extent of his commentary on her choice of clothing. Wherever she had been pulled from, it seemed she was more out of place than him. There was no need to draw more attention to that. "You sounded nervous about learning," he said. Not a question, but he was giving her an opportunity to elaborate.
Dolores wasn’t quite sure what it was about the entire situation that made her so uncomfortable. Not him, not even the gym itself. She sat on the bench, hands folded in her lap. “Everyone keeps saying that sorta thing,” she agreed, which was why she allowed herself to be talked into this at all. The attacks, the kidnappings, everyone warning her to be careful. “I never felt unsafe back home,” she told Diego, not aware enough for her words to be an outright lie, even though something about it bothered her. “I mean there were sometimes fights at the saloon, or the shootouts in the streets, but the sheriff…” Dolores trailed off, frowning. Back home didn’t matter here. She was far from it, and Klaus had done a good job of convincing her she’d never make her way back.
“It was never anything I had to get involved in. But now it feels like…” Dolores indeed looked nervous, staring down at her hands, not even sure how to correctly form a fist. “My daddy taught me the best way to keep yourself safe was to not go looking for trouble. But trouble seems to be all around here, doesn’t it.”
Diego's eyebrows arched, his reaction to everything she'd said but also because he really wasn't used to hearing daddy used in a familial context. "Right, well your father was only partially correct. Even if you're not looking for trouble, it helps to be on the lookout for trouble." A pause, as he considered what she'd said about the sheriff and a saloon. "You from the wild west or something?"
It didn't surprise him that she said trouble seemed to be all around there. Apparently he'd missed a dragon, which seemed a bit extreme. But trouble was everywhere, wasn't it?
“Well, it wasn’t always so wild,” she teased, expression going wistful at the subject of her world, triggering a response that was so deeply embedded into the core of her code. “Sometimes it’s rather peaceful. Especially outside of Sweetwater, if you ride off into th-“ she cut herself off, because they weren’t in her world, and her dialog suddenly felt very irrelevant. She couldn’t very well offer to show him the hills or the canyons, or her favorite spot by the river, as the script would have her go.
Dolores paused for a moment, reoriented herself. “Sorry, I guess I keep getting caught up in the past. The idea of time travel is still very new to me.” She didn’t know why her mind kept fighting against it, when the evidence was all around her. Even if it didn’t make sense, she was somewhere else now. Somewhere that had trolls taking children, a lady turned into a dragon, where the trees... Her eye twitched slightly at the memory that had caused her to black out from shock.
“I just don’t want to get in anyone’s way,” she told Diego, knew it was very kind of Finn and Rey to get her to safety. But if she couldn’t fight, she should at least be able to do that much for herself.
"My brother traveled through time and got stuck in the future," Diego offered her with a shrug. "This isn't normal, no need to pretend like it is yet." Still he noticed the eye twitch, and that it seemed slightly off somehow, in a way he couldn't express. "You good?" he asked, before standing up.
"I can teach you how to defend yourself from a lot of things but your mileage may vary when it comes to dragons and the like."
No, this place wasn't normal.
She didn’t know which brother he meant, because Dolores realized he had quite a few andKlaus had never mentioned such a thing. But she didn’t ask for Diego to elaborate. Maybe another time, when thinking about it didn’t hurt her head so much. Or his sister, since he insisted she was a better storyteller... although that had seemed more a bitter comment given the context, and maybe she didn’t want to go digging in family drama. “Hm?” she responded, not sure why he was asking how she was. She felt fine.
“Yeah, just nervous,” she stood as well. As much as the thought of dragons frightened her, it was being left on the ranch alone at night that had been keeping her up, the itching feeling that something bad was going to happen, although it never had. Not before. Not now. “So what do I do?” she asked hesitantly, not sure how much more she could delay the actual lesson.
"We're going to start with the very basics," Diego replied. "All I'm going to do is reach out and grab your forearm, and I want to see how you get out of that hold, yeah?" It was a simple move, not as close proximity as others, and less threatening than most. "There's not a wrong or right way to try and escape yet."
He walked away from the benches, gesturing for her to follow. Then nodded at her, asking if she was ready before he did exactly what he said would, reaching out and grabbing her forearm, his grip not nearly as strong as it could be.
"So. Break free," he directed, watching her carefully as this hold had the added benefit of allowing him to do so.
The grab wasn’t all that threatening or rough, and Dolores knew he was simply trying to ease her into it. Which was sweet, really. And after a moment of hesitation she gave a bit of a weak tug at first, uncertain how much strength he was using, before trying again with a bit more of her own behind it to break the hold.
She rubbed her arm once she had it back, not that it hurt, but she looked slightly embarrassed because it really wasn’t going to be that easy. “But you’re stronger than that,” she told him, didn’t think there was much point in any of this to deny the basic fact.
"Right," he said. "Again?"
When he grabbed her this time, she wouldn't be able to break free with just that arm, but he let her try anyway. When she couldn't, as predicted, he directed her further, telling her to grab her fist, point her elbow up on the arm he was grabbing, and then drive it down with her own strength, easily breaking free and at which point she'd be able to run.
"You don't have to be stronger than me," he told her. "If you can use my strength against me. See? There's plenty more moves like this you can learn without ever having to fight back, if escape is your primary objective."
Again, he was trying to gauge her level of comfort and starting off with something basic. "Not too bad?" he asked.
This wasn’t real, she had to remind herself, freezing up a bit when he directed her to apply more force. Dolores had winced slightly while breaking free, felt her heart racing, a flash of fear that felt disproportionate to the situation, as if she was doing something she shouldn’t. She hadn’t actually hurt him, he told her to do it.
It was fine. She was fine. She nodded in response, determined to push through this, but feeling like her efforts were still ultimately futile. “What if you have both my hands?” she asked. It didn’t seem like the same technique would work for that.
"Like this?" he asked, grabbing both her wrists and waiting to see what she would do. When she failed to break free, he showed her how to escape, and what to do if the first method didn't work. "Use my momentum against me," he directed. "That or my balance. Self-defense isn't just about what I'm doing, it's about how you counter what I'm doing. Can you throw me off balance by shifting your own weight around? If I have your arms what do you have free to fight back with? If you can keep a clear head, you'll find options."
When she didn't follow through, he took a step back just to give her breathing room, and to check in on her. He didn't want to move faster than she could handle.
A clear head. Right. She could do that. Dolores tried to jerk her arms away again, without any success, her nerves spiking as she considered the directions Diego gave her. She took in a breath, tried to focus, staring down at the grip. If she hesitated this much in any real situation, she knew she’d already have lost. Wasn’t she meant to lose? No, somebody was meant to come save her, somebody- Dolores closed her eyes, reminded herself that she was alone now.
She tried to will herself to fight back, tried to make her limbs move in the way she could picture his instructions. And yet they wouldn’t cooperate, and Dolores frowned, shook her head in defeat. “I can’t.”
Diego had seen this before, so he didn't think too much of it right away. People froze when placed under stress, and even though they were barely doing anything, it was impossible to say what might trigger such a response. "So where's the block?" he asked Dolores. "Something happen?" His voice was gentle… for him. But there was genuine concern in there somewhere, even if he asked his questions directly and didn't dance around the potentially difficult topics at hand.
"It'll help if I know," he told her. "So that we can find a way past this."
“No,” she denied, although the answer didn’t sound entirely truthful, “it’s nothing like... I just can’t.” Dolores only managed a weak tug of her arms again, which seemed to be the extent of what her body would allow, but at least proved to herself her limbs were working at all. “I’m sorry, I understand what you want me to do. But...”
Would you ever harm a living being, Dolores?
No, she wasn’t hurting anyone. Even if she tried, she didn’t think she’d be capable of hurting Diego. He had the look of somebody that came out standing from most any fight. “But I... something went wrong yesterday too, during the attacks. I don’t know what happened. I think I must have blacked out.”
"You work outside a lot?" Diego asked, seemingly out of nowhere, but she had been talking about cows. He let go of her wrists completely and took another step back, just looking at her. "A lot of times if something did happen, your mind will block it out," he pointed out. "Survival instinct."
He tapped a finger on his head. "Can't always trust what you think you know."
“That’s right,” she confirmed, although not understanding how it was relevant. Though maybe it was a comment on her strength. Dolores didn’t like to think of herself as frail, but she was hardly the one doing all the heavy lifting.
“My father runs our ranch back home. He’s hired some help from the town, now that he’s gotten older. But there’s always so much to do. I help mama in the house too.” She frowned, still badly missing them.
“But I don’t understand what you mean. I haven’t forgotten anything.”
"Right…" Diego said slowly, knowing why something about her had seemed off previously. "Don't tan? Or burn?"" he asked. Her skin was flawless, as if she stayed indoors all the time, no sign of weathering the outside elements to speak of.
Combining that with what he'd observed and what she'd told him, he was forming an idea. One he may have thought crazier, he supposed, if not for his mother.
"Can you hit me? Just a simple punch. Slap across the face if you'd prefer. I'm sure you could stand in for any one of my siblings there."
“No...” Dolores knew it was a fair observation, and was yet puzzled by it. Why he even brought it up at all, if he was suggesting she was somehow lying or misremembering her own life, what the significance possibly could be. But it was true. She didn’t have so much as a tan line to show for all the time she spent outdoors. In the desert. And yet she hadn’t even thought about it before he brought it up. “I... guess I’m just used to it,” she dismissed, no other way to really explain.
But she quickly forgot it, focusing instead on his instruction for her to strike him. Dolores folded her hand into a fist, not quite sure if she was forming it correctly. Except it didn’t really matter, she couldn’t bring herself to do it, only able to get as far as drawing her arm back. Her other hand trembled, and she nearly whimpered in frustration. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Diego just nodded in response, stepping up to her, correcting her fist so she could at least see how to properly form one, and then lowered her hand down. He needed to talk to Klaus, since the two of them were apparently friends.
"I don't know either," he said, even if he was starting to suspect. "But lucky for you, I'm a stubborn bastard."
It didn’t make any sense. She knew she didn’t want to hit anyone, or get into any real fights. She didn’t think she’d even be particularly effective if she did hit him. But being completely incapable of doing so seemed... off, somehow, except also exactly how it was meant to be. She couldn’t recall a time in her life where she was in a position she needed to do so, and even then her father or Teddy was always there to step in and defend her. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she became so expectant for someone else’s help. Except then it had never felt as pathetic as this.
Dolores sat back down on the bench, staring down. “What am I supposed to do?”
"Don't know yet," Diego replied, not one to mince words or offer empty promises. He took the seat opposite of her again. "But I'll work on it. Might meet somewhere different next time." Her place, or maybe the manor. He really wasn't sure and wanted some time to think on it before he proposed any sort of plan.
“Next time,” she repeated, slightly relieved that there would be one, and that he hadn’t completely dismissed her as a lost cause, because she felt like she had wasted his time without any progress made at all. But as close to giving up she was in the moment, Dolores knew she wanted to be better than this. Maybe she could practice alone, punch something else like her pillows. It felt silly to even think about, but at least the benefit of being alone in her house was that nobody else could be watching.
“Thank you, Diego,” she touched her hand to his gently, offering a small but sincere smile. “For giving me a chance.” And then she got up to leave, wanting to get out of the gym and breathe fresh air to calm her nerves.
"Of course," he said with a nod.
He watched her as she left, wondering what he was going to do if his theory was correct. But first, he was going to need to talk to Klaus.