Old Sweat and Canvas Bags

[rhiannon_lee]

It had been years since Rhiannon stepped foot in an actual gym, the kind that regular fitness buffs frequented. She got her exercise at night on patrol and in sparring sessions with Cian. A major reason why she avoided gyms was that nobody her size should be capable of lifting what she could, and so it became an exercise in false straining. But she liked the places, especially old ones where the punching bags were cracked and the mats smelled like old sweat. They reminded her of the first days of training, way before things got fucked up. Those were good memories.

The gym had a help wanted sign. Rhiannon was doing okay on money, not great but able to pay the rent, based on temp work as a bartender. It couldn’t hurt to go inside though and ask, even if her primary purpose was the questionable ambiance. She pulled open the door and stepped inside, perhaps looking a bit different than the typical gym bunny, pale and tattooed and in too much make-up.

[Takes place before 'What Happens When?']

Comments

[rhiannon_lee]

A lot?

It was true, but it was difficult to explain how a Slayer trained, the melding of styles that was expected of her and why. She fiddled with her ear. “Ah, kick-boxing, taekwondo, muay thai, karate…” She trailed off and wish she’d said something more reasonable. However, if he spent a few minutes in a ring with her, long enough for her to operate on instinct, he’d see it.

She pressed her palms against her lower back.

"I um... the school I went to, really into P.E."

[v_harkryder]

The slight scowl had faded, to be replaced by bemusement. Surprised would have been the incorrect word to use. He'd seen ninety pound women take out men twice their sizes, so it wasn't that he didn't believe Rhiannon. Virgil scratched the top of his ear.

"You planning on going to cop school? With all that under your belt, you'd be a shoo-in." He tried to picture the brunette in a uniform, but it didn't compute.

[rhiannon_lee]

“Ha!” Rhiannon’s outburst echoed off the high ceiling. “No. Definitely not a cop.” Although it did give her a fleeting and funny image of showing up tonight in a badge and hat and not much else. What would her Were make of that? Rhiannon doubted she could keep a straight face long enough to cuff him.

She sobered and wiped her fingers across her forehead. “I’m um… I’m aspiring to be a lot of things. Artist. Non-smoker. But not law enforcement. I just happen to be good at fighting.”

[v_harkryder]

The sudden burst of humor made the veteran grin, and he rubbed his fingers over his mouth as if to erase the expression. But he was clearly amused, despite the lack of teeth being displayed.

"Quitting smoking is harder than getting into the military," he said. "Every time I think I've kicked it, I have one smoke and it pulls me back in."

Virgil scratched his ear again. "You want to come into the office?" he asked Rhiannon. "They're almost through for the day, and we could at least sit down if you wanted to know more."

[rhiannon_lee]

Rhiannon gave a casual shrug. "Sure."

Offices freaked her out a bit; she couldn't remember an experience in someone's office that hadn't led to badness, grades bad, bills due, whatever, but it would be easier to talk in the relative quiet. She followed him into the room and tried to think what she'd even ask. Hours, pay, those sorts of things were less important to her than Virgil's temperament or whether she'd want to claw her eyes out being here.