Tigress
It doesn’t take much thought,
signing up for the class,
especially after him.
Jim from IT.
She was strong.
Is strong.
She doesn’t count.
DOES.
They call to confirm
before she realises
she’s signed up.
The first night,
it is all she can do
to not leave the building,
flushed red, and ashamed
of her distinct lack
of coordination.
Give her bodies—dead ones—
and she is an expert.
Professional.
Precise.
Present her with live ones
from whom she is to defend herself,
and she wants to run.
Run far. Run fast.
But it is no longer time
for meek kitten
Molly Hooper.
After a couple of weeks,
she hits back.
Hard.
Knocks an opponent
to the ground.
Almost apologises.
Doesn’t.
Isn’t supposed to.
Doesn’t want to.
The instructor is impressed,
but not as impressed
as her student.
“You’ve improved.
You’re stronger.”
After a few months,
Molly Hooper
is a tigress.
sometimes I picture Molly Hooper sitting Jim Moriarty down and telling him this relationship isn’t working out but she’d do it in such a lovely way all sweet and anxious because she doesn’t want to hurt him but the fact of it is he’s gay and there’s no future for them but she’s happy for him really she is and maybe they can still be friends and Jim is just like
Molly fluttered down next to Jim, clearly anxious. She was a few minutes late for their date: Jim had already ordered her her favorite, knowing full well that if he had to listen to her order it one more time (one caramel latte please, er, the larger size, venti? Is it venti? Oh I always forget. And could you —- oh. I-don’t-really-Oh. Don’t worry about it, the foam’s fine) he might just break his rule about not getting his hands dirty and stick a butter knife into the first warm body that had the misfortune to cross his path.
