It's Only Gym [Paul]

Gym.

Whoever or however his physical structure was crafted, whether by a primordial being or through the slow progression of his gene pool, did not have such a class in mind when designing him. He was thin, not pumped with muscles and rippling with beef-cake material. Contrary to prominent belief, however, he had muscles. They just weren't bulging from his body in anticipation of the days work. They were thin, stretch over his body and sculpted to his form. Corded and tight, like a bar of iron. Created from a vast number of high-impact blows to bags or sparring opponents. Not made for climbing rope or playing dodge ball. Running, jumping, baseball or track- those were exertions his body could streamline.

Still, he showed up as demanded of his schedule. His black shorts rustled a little as he walked, the long sleeved under-armor shirt clinging to his body. His strides were broad and unenthusiastic, influenced by his attitude toward these types of activities. He scrutinized the mats and how they were ordered. His brow furrowed, their purpose befuddling to him. They seemed to be set in a way that would allow an easy team of two to train together (or at least that's how they were platformed in boxing tournaments).

He had never heard of a school that seemed to breathe pain and anguish from it's plebeian masses teach them to be more destructive. It seemed almost counteractive to their objective. His foot stretched out, pressing softly into the elastic and almost buoyant material. His grimace deepened.

He would turn his seeking gaze on a new hunt- for the teacher, to question him about their intendment.

Paul listened stoically as the instructor sent him to stand tow to tow, mano e mano with someone who looked to be chomping at the bit to demonstrate how lacking Paul was in all areas comparatively. The thin man wasn't someone who thrived on violence and the opportunity to demonstrate said desires to others. This caused a dark cloud to form over his head, an omen of things to come as he regretfully placed himself on the mat. His hands lifted, elbows bending with his left fist a little forward and his right held in a tight guard under his chin.

His knees, already stretched and oiled with the morning workout, bent easily only slightly. He was undaunted by his inexperience fighting these rebels at 552 and despite his misgivings he depended on the professor to half them should it get to far. So he would inch forward a little if his adversary remained stationary, and snap out his forward leg for a short kick to the inside or his kneecap.

Summary: Moved forward and threw a snap front kick for the inside of Matrixs' forward knee, hands up in a guard.