Alexei sighed, frowning with the slightest show of dismay in his eyes as he turned away from those that had chosen to pair up to spar. For whatever reason they had labeled him undesirable for training, the Buizel wasn't quite sure, but to be fair, it was probably his own fault. He gave Haley another sharp look, which he was sure she didn't see, and he turned his attention to his own person. If he couldn't spar with anyone and get a feel for his comrades' level of experience with close-quarters fighting, he may as well try to do something to occupy himself.
Grasping his custom M1911 by it's grip at his right leg holster, the Buizel slowly retracted his arm, sliding the pistol smoothly from it's place. He held it in place, aiming at a wall, with the safety engaged. He seemed to be in thought for a moment, before he stood up, placing the weapon back in it's holster at his side. He then turned about-face in a rapid 180-degree motion, facing the opposite way, and retrieved his firearm, facing the opposite wall this time.
Using himself as a measurement for an imaginary opponent, the short Buizel began cycling through some basic hand strikes and frontal attacks, judging by his own posture for the pressure points and weak spots he was aiming for. He had chosen to ignore the one who called himself Shierk, along with his flashy movements and weaponry. Alexei had no use for someone like that on the team he'd be a part of, and he was sure nobody else did, either. He had learned over twenty-two years of experience that people like Shierk were the first ones to get themselves K.I.A.
Shaking away the thoughts - particularly a series of questioning introspections on why Haley had taken to him as she had, and then suddenly turned away from him like he wasn't worth her time anymore. Possibly because she thought he was just some old guy, and maybe she thought the 'important parts' didn't function anymore?
Alexei would have almost blushed, if it were not for the fact that all of his blood was rushing to his brain and lungs already as he began to deliver more basic leg strikes and other assorted simple maneuvers on his imaginary opponent. Once or twice, he cast upon himself a display of water, controlling its flow to deliver what he could only imagine hurt a bit worse than a bare hand on the neck.
Sighing, the Buziel shook his head. What a strange character, that Haley... Either she was immature, and truly believed Alexei was just some old guy not worth her time, or she was hiding something. Probably the former, the Buizel reasoned. He had made an ass of himself only minutes prior, which he was embarrassed for. With the thoughts of Haley now permeating his mind for reasons he couldn't quite explain to himself, the Buizel moved on from his original practice regimen, using combination strikes and occasionally aiming his gun in another direction - of which he made sure didn't point at anyone else.
