Ronnie
The training room was silent. It was late, and Elya had waited for a time where no one else would be there. The person she was soon to meet seemed to be worried about being made fun of or teased, and generally seemed unnerved by the thought of others, so Elya decided an empty room would be the best.

Pulling her hair into a ponytail, Elya took a deep breath. Rarely did she practice with others, let alone teach others, so a part of her wasn't entirely sure why she had offered in the first place. She was sure it was night delirium mixed with the desire to find at least one person in the hell hole known as Newton's Cradle that she could at least sympathize with slightly. Emerson seemed like a good enough shot. 

Elya slid her tense hands into her gloves. They weren't full boxing gloves, and instead a smaller, fingerless type of boxing glove. Less protection but they wouldn't be doing anything heavy anyways. Pulling the strap with her teeth, she felt the gloves tighten around her wrist. A second pair rested on a small bench beside her. 

The other would be here shortly.
Bernice
Emerson was glad that Elya agreed, and even more had suggested, that the training between the two of them was to happen at night. She had never gone to the training facility before so she followed the instructions she had made Elya give very specifically until she was at a door. After a silent deep breath, she walked in.

Em was all long limbs and big clothes. Choppy hair had been pulled into a small ponytail and her bangs, which weren't long enough to be pulled back into the ponytail, were pushed back with a simple headband. She seemed to be trying to melt into the massive Green Day shirt she wore— it had to be at least a 3XL in men's.

When she approached Elya closer, she was surprised to see how short she was in comparison. The mental image Em had conjured up painted her as at least 6'2. She didn't bother to hide her blatant staring until her own discomfort got the better of her.

"Elya. I didn't know what to bring."
Ronnie
"Ah, hello. No problem, I have everything you'll need." She gestured down at the gloves on the bench beside her. "Start with those."

Right off the bat, Elya realized that Emerson was significantly taller than her. Wonderful, what joy. All the girl could hope was that Em was not the type to make shallow jabs and stupid jokes about it. Elya wasn't even that short— but she had heard more than enough in her time. Aside from Emersons height, Elya noted how nice she looked. The choppy hair and oversized shirt suited her sharp features well, although Elya expected her to look more intimidating. 

Unlike Emerson, Elya was wearing a form fitting shirt. A sleek compression shirt of types, with no sleeves that showed off her rather defined arms. She was not bulky by any means, but the muscles from her years of practice definitely showed. Between her black shirt and black leggings and black athletic shoes, Elya was far from the striking image of colour. She liked it that way. 

"We can start with stance, and then you can punch all you want." She smirked. A rather subtle gesture, barely noticeable, but there if Emerson paid attention.
Bernice
Em picked up the gloves and turned them over in her hands, inspecting them as closely as she could without directly putting them in her face. She slipped them on and cradled her hands close to herself so she could easily tighten the straps without the glove shifting. Once again, she inspected them then looked up at Elya as if to wait for her approval. She had no clue what she was doing and didn't want to embarrass herself further.

"I know how to throw a punch— a normal one. I know about the follow-through and everything. I got good at fighting." Her arms hung limp at her sides. She didn't know what the stance was, but felt like she had to defend herself a little bit. She wasn't totally stupid and resented the idea that Elya could've thought of her that way.

The smirk was noticed but ignored. Em didn't know what it was for, especially because it was small. She just wanted to get on with this— her heart was still racing from the event that had happened hours earlier.
Ronnie
Elya nodded once Emerson had put on the gloves. She didn't feel as though she was a teacher of any kind, simply someone who could help minimize how much her knuckles would sting if she so chose to let all her anger loose on either a person or the punching bag. 

"Of course, but knowing a little more about how to make it hurt less is useful." Elya made her way over to the punching bag. She gestured for Emerson to follow. 

Elya decided she would not do a physical demonstration first, not yet anyways. Instead, she decided to focus on stance, just like she said she would. She also decided she would not mention why she was amused in the slightest. 

Elya then moved her feet apart with her right foot farther back and diagonal to her left, raised her heels ever so slightly, and unlocked her knees. This gave her a sturdy stance that she could move through. 

"Im sure you know enough about stance as is, so do what's comfortable or copy what I've done. For me, this keeps me balanced and strong yet allows me to move quickly." 

Next, Elya raised her arms up, her forearms facing outwards towards the punching bag.

"This blocks your face, you should always return to a stance where your face is blocked." Her voice was calm and still, knowledgeable yet not condescending. "It also keeps your hands levelled for punching."

"Are you right or left handed?"
Bernice
Emerson followed the movements Elya was making and tried to ignore the rising humiliation. Elya was here to help her, not mock her. She was trying to address five other thoughts while also trying to focus on everything Elya was saying. Excuse her if she missed any critical information.

Emerson had to make L shapes with her hands to answer the simple question, but it wasn't her fault and was directionally challenged. "Right handed." While the Em answered questions and Elya taught, Em found herself repeatedly making the blocking motions she had been shown.

"How is it supposed to keep your hands level for punching if your fists are up here but the person I need to hit is in front of me? It's easier to just-" She made a variety of different punching motions and one that looked like she was pulling someone's hair. After her brief demonstration, her arms didn't cover her face— instead, she had them splayed out as if ready for another hit.