looking for signs of movement in anticipation of an attack. But Steve stands there calmly, his arms hanging loosely by his side, his feet planted firmly on the ground casually waiting for Mark to make his move.

A jab lashes forward towards Steve’s face. Not really anything that would cause damage and not even within range to make contact, just a light flick of his fist to probe his reaction speed. He didn’t move though, not even a flinch. He’s giving nothing away. Mark squints his eyes as he tries to figure him out, bobbing back and forth on the balls of his feet, bouncing up and down.

Steve: This idiot is wasting more energy hopping around like a clown than anything. He looks heavy on his feet but he’s trying to appear light and quick.