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]

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.