While Calley did his repetitions, Kaz was thinking of what to have the boy do next. At least he was until he realized Calley hadn't said anything, he hadn't yawned or done anything like he had earlier. In fact he seemed extremely focused, too focused. From what he knew of Calley, that was out of character. It dawned on him when Calley was nearing the end of his work, the change was similar to his own when he fell into Sarrus, though there was a large difference; Calley didn't seem to want to spill a lot of blood.

"What next?"

Kaz pulled himself back from his thoughts, "Who are you?"

“Slate,” Slate said, quite matter-of-factly. “If that is a problem, we can be Calley again. If it is not,” Slate returned the subject to its proper topic: “What next?”

Kaz gave 'Slate' a questioning look. When he referred to himself as Slate and Calley Calley, Kaz figured the two were separate people, not just a different aspect of Calley. Of course this promted his next question. "So Slate..since training is both physical and mental, who learns from this? Is it whoever is 'dominant' at the moment, or do you both receives the benifit?" Moving so he was in front of Slate, he held his hand up. "Right jab."

“I will learn it at the moment.” Slate answered, still waiting to get beyond the formalities of his introduction to doing what they were here to do. “We will both know it later. For instance, Calley now knows how to break your skin, though I was the one who did it.” He did not feel it necessary to mention that Calley was incapable of performing the move. Seeing as they were both in the same body and not likely to be quarrelling over the minor points of possession in the middle of a fight, it was rather a moot point.

"Right jab."

That was better. Of course, it would be helpful if the man had first shown them, as he had done with the blocks, what a ‘right jab’ was. Slate arched a single eyebrow. “A right jab. I presume that is some form of quick punch, as implied by ‘jab’, using our right arm. You, however, appear to be overestimating our knowledge. As I believe Calley has already informed you, our knowledge of fights is precisely as good as the average toddler’s. If you would care to inform me more specifically as to what a ‘right jab’ is, I would be more than willing to perform one. I infer that was your intent for us, given the gesture you are currently making.”

...You just don’t like him, do you?

I am still mildly aggravated, yes.

You could have just punched him.

I suspect he will find this more irritating.

Kaz nodded at Slate's answer. "So somehow you'll teach him, or he'll just have access to the information and experiences. Or something like that right. I just don't want to teach both of you." It seemed as if things were about to move forward again when Slate began talking like an idiot. "You want me to show you a jab. Fine."

Right, left, and right again. Three very fast jabs aimed for Calley's face. The fourth was not with a closed fist, but an open palm strike. Before he would hit, Kaz would turn his hand slightly, placing his index and middle finger tips at the base of either of Calley's nostrals (painful pressure points), his ring finger would press against Calley's cheek into his teeth, while his pinky and thumb latched on to the boys windpipe pressing it together, with the hand's positioning, it would also force the chin and mouth shut and press up into soft flesh.

"Maybe you haven't noticed yet Slate, since there's supposedly a learning lag between you two, I've been having you show me what you could do, and then fixing or instructing you. You're fighting know-how and experience suck yes, but I doubt you're dumb enough not to know the term 'jab'." Taking a breath, "Oh wait. You do know what a jab is! You described it." Stepping back a bit, "There are two options here: 1) You're playing games with me and just trying to irritate me, or 2) You really are stupid and Hunter is becoming senile in his old age......Hunter doesn't seem that crazy, so that means you're playing games with me Slate..." Kaz's posture, eyes and voice gave no hint of what he was thinking or might do next.

Slate did not bother to react to Kaz' display. Indeed, it hurt. It hurt quite a bit. Fascinating, really, how such little movements--well, 'little' after one had factored out his overly flashy jabs--could cause such pain. Also, blatant discomfort.

"The learning lag is quite minimal," Slate informed the man, once he was certain that mouth had stopped running. "Additionally, I choose the first option. I am playing games with you. I see that you do seem to be irritated." He gave a little smile. In the back of their mind, Calley winced.

Kaz eyed Slate with a very annoyed glare. An odd aspect of his eyes, that could be a trick of the lights and mood, the crimson color seemed as if blood was running free when he wanted to do great harm to someone. With a long slow breath Kaz stepped back and calmed himself, the flowing blood look in his eyes would seem to stop as well. "You irritate the hell out of me. Do I need to say who asked who for help again?" Rubbing the bridge of his nose slightly before putting his hands to his side. "I'm ready to stop training you right here right now, but if you still want to learn how to fight, I have two options for you: The easy way or the hard way. The easy way is much more educational and a lot less painful."

Slate impassively watched Kaz’ reaction, odd appearance of blood flow through his irises and all. He was certain it looked very intimidating. The long, slow breath added to the effect: it implied that it was only by a thin margin that the man held himself under control. If it was not an act, but an actual reaction to their statement... then Slate’s respect for the man did not climb higher. This display of self-control was akin to a threadbare blanket.

"You irritate the hell out of me.” Excellent. “Do I need to say who asked who for help again?" Ah. Hmm. What did that little rubbing of his nose mean? Clearly, Kaz was not in control of himself or his own actions. The nose-rub gave something about his mental state away, just a surely as Calley’s various twitches. Slate tilted his head to the side the slightest bit. It would be fascinating to learn to read those little behavioral tells.

"I'm ready to stop training you right here right now, but if you still want to learn how to fight, I have two options for you: The easy way or the hard way. The easy way is much more educational and a lot less painful."

Slate let his head tilt a little further to the side, realized he was doing it, and experienced a little ah-ha flash: head tilting, in himself at least, was a sign of thought. A bit of a staling tactic. Curious. He would have reflect upon that, later. For now: “The hard way is not as educational, then? Hmm. I will choose the easy way. Or was that a rhetorical question? I am not an expert at conversations.” After a moment’s delay, he decided a modest shrug might be appropriate, and executed one.

“The hard way is not as educational, then? Hmm. I will choose the easy way. Or was that a rhetorical question? I am not an expert at conversations.”

Kaz realized Slate wasn't being a smart-ass, at least not completely. "Good to hear Slate. The three basic punches are: Jab, Hook, and Upper-cut. You can also do a Cross-Jab, it's the same except instead of punching pretty much straight out, you punch from one side over to the other, putting your fist in line with the opposite shoulder." Kaz demonstrated both a normal and cross-jab. "Generally jabs are for when they're a bit further away, and cross-jabs are for when they're closer to you. But remember, never fully extend your arm. There are two ways to hit, either a snap or hitting through your target. Snaps are quicker but they are more disorienting than harmful, at least normally. The pain adds up, but a snap also allows you to get your defense back quicker. When you hit through a target, you don't stop as soon as your fist or foot or other limb comes into contact with the target, you follow through with the hit. Like you're trying to put a hole into them. Slower, but does more damage."

"Hooks, are strong punches, but they're generally slow and very easy to block." Showing Slate a typical hook, "Because they pick up more momentum and force they hurt when they hit but by just doing a high block you can stop them, leaving the person open, though it also leaves you open."

"The Upper-cut, only use it when you have an opening. Only then will it be effective and damaging. A hasty uppercut will land you on your ass or in a lot of pain. You drop your defense to do an uppercut, so if you act without an opening, you're going to get hit. Also," Kaz put his fist on Slate's chest just below the sternum. "Besides the jaw which can potentially snap someone's neck, the bone at the end of the sternum is the Zyphoid. It's triangular in shape. If you hit it with enough force and at the correct angle, it will snap off and go through the lung and possibly even the heart."

Stepping back he put his hands up, "Jab."

Slate tilted his head to the side, processing the information through his own understanding before relaying it on to the clutter for long-term storage. This took a moment. When he was ready, and only when he was ready, did he move on to Kaz’ command.

He jabbed at the man’s hand, as demonstrated, choosing the snap approach, and not fully extending. It was hardly astrophysics.

“A question: do you have healing capabilities?” He asked, once he had completed the move. It was a relevant question. Their body was technically only human strong, but during the X-Men tryouts, they had cleanly severed the heads off of a few robots via not carrying whether they crushed their own bones during the process. Specifically, Slate had done so. “Baring healing capabilities, can you take hits that are stronger than average without receiving much damage?”

Kaz watched Slate's form as he punched. Just as he was about to critique Slate, he asked a few questions. Shaking his head, "Nope. I can't heal like you, but I can take a hit better than average, only because I've conditioned by body to be stronger. But I get the feeling you're not talking in general sense. What do you have in mind exactly?"

Holding up his hands. "Jabs, continue until I tell you to stop or tell you to do something else."

“What do you have in mind exactly?”

Slate was still formulating his answer when the man held up his hands, and demanded a continuous stream of jabs. This sidetracked him away from both tasks and into annoyance at this demand for multitasking. With an effort, he distracted himself away from the annoyance by taking the square root of 144 (it was 12: that had been trivial, which had, indeed, been the point). From there, the clutter prompted him back to the original question. “What do you have in mind exactly?”

“I would like to try ‘hitting through’ your hand, but as I am not constrained by self-injury while doing so, I believe I could severely injure someone with no natural resistance to physical damage.” This statement finished, he simply stared at Kaz’ hand. He would prefer to get the man’s reply before he complied with his order, seeing as the reply would influence his actions in that matter.

Kaz chuckled a bit, "Do you believe you could really hit through my hand in a literal sense? Or are you thinking about hitting through your target to inflict more damage?" Shrugging. "If the first is the case, I highly doubt you have the strength to do so without shifting, which I'm not allowing. If it's the second, go right ahead. In fact I encourage you to try it, see how much force you can put into the hit."

Noting that Slate wasn't doing the jabs but focused on his question and his answer to Kaz's question. "Do you have a hard time talking and doing something else? Or do you not feel like doing the work?"

Kaz chuckled during his response: Slate did not quite understand that. It hardly seemed a point to press, however. He did not, in a literal sense, mean that he could hit through Kaz’ hand. That would require their own flesh to be able to survive such an impact. No, what Slate was talking about was simple physics: for each action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. He intended to hit Kaz’ hand with enough force to crush their own bones. According to the laws of physics, that would result in the crushing of Kaz’ hand, unless the man’s mutation permitted him to absorb more force than was typical.

"Do you have a hard time talking and doing something else? Or do you not feel like doing the work?"

Slate bristled, contemplated his bristling as the interesting urge of emotional and physical reactions that it was, then debristled and replied: “The first.”

Slate seemed to puff up then deflate from Kaz's question, which only made Kaz smirk. A smirk that grew larger when Slate answered. "Well then, you may be screwed after all." Kaz said with a chuckle as he held up his hands. Unknown to Kaz, his bones were indeed denser and stronger than normal, able to absorb the shock of high speeds, sudden stops, and high speed impacts. He hadn't tested this or ever had reason to test his bone durability. "Go ahead and 'hit through' my hand if you can."

Kaz highly doubted Slate had the physical strength to do much harm to him. Even if he could, if Slate decided to punch as hard as he could, Kaz would just let his hand snap back at the wrists as if Slate hit them to hard it just couldn't take the stress. In Kaz's head, the figured it would be a bit of a laugh.