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]

"That's nice of you." Rhiannon sat in a chair and listened to its pleasant creak. The office was orderly, like she'd expect of someone former military. Old habits died hard. She smoothed a hand over her ponytail and tried to think how this sort of thing usually went.

"What kind of hours do you need someone? I ask because I'm pretty busy at night. I tend bar," she offered, for once relieved to have an excuse other than 'I'm out killing things'. "It's part-time. I'm a temp, anyway, so I'm not married to it, but I like to keep my nights free."

[v_harkryder]

"The self-defense classes are on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and alternating weekends, from five until seven p.m. Sometimes women bring their kids, and I have a separate area for them to read or play quietly. I thought about giving lessons to younger kids, but my insurance guy said the liability would be impossible to cover if someone got hurt, so I don't teach anyone under the age of thirteen."

Virgil had wondered if Rhiannon was someone who went clubbing at night, primarily because of the tattoos. Vegas jumped when the sun set, and the partying really only slowed down during the day, it didn't actually stop.

"Sometimes I hold a special session for women who have a bed at the shelter," he added. "That's usually on the weekends, from four to six. It's earlier because they have lights-out there. How would you feel about giving up an early evening?"

[rhiannon_lee]

"Early is fine. I only need the night." Rhiannon's mouth curved at one corner. She shifted forward with her hands on her knees and said wryly, "I know that sounds weird. I'm just... a night owl. I do my best work then." She picked at the shredded fabric on her kneecap. "I don't have any formal certifications, but I could test out of anything you put in front of me."

Her brow quirked. "It's only arrogant if it's an exaggeration, right?"

[v_harkryder]

That elicited a display of teeth, and Virgil's chair creaked as he leaned back. "I was about to ask if you'd ever boxed or fought on a professional level," he told Rhiannon. "Sometimes practical knowledge is more important than a teaching certificate. Somebody coming at you in a fight doesn't ask for qualifications."

Idly, he wondered if she could take him. He was taller and heavier, but he was also probably ten years older than she was. He'd gotten in a fight with his sister once when they were teenagers, and she'd gone at him like a windmill. And that was before Momma snatched him bald-headed for hurting Tonya. He had learned the hard way to respect a woman's strength.

"How about this?" he said. "You come in later this week and help me run a class, and if it agrees with you we can discuss a more permanent arrangement. It'd just be part-time, so how about a trial run?"

[rhiannon_lee]

She had shaken her head when Virgil mentioned professional fights. Then said, “That works,” in answer to his question, her demeanor shifting into something more at ease. Showing was easier than telling and honestly, the whole topic felt weird to Rhiannon. She trusted in her skills and she was used to justifying them to people in her circle. Talking trash was practically required. But here, with Virgil, rating them made her feel like a jackass.

“Here, let me give you my contact information.” She took a pen and pad from his desk and jotted down her full name and phone number. “I appreciate the opportunity,” she said. “And your faith… I won’t embarrass you in front of your clients.” Rhiannon gave him a wry smile from underneath her lashes.

[v_harkryder]

"Heh. Most of these ladies might be glad to see a woman helping them learn to take up for themselves," Virgil said with a smile of his own. He looked at the piece of paper Rhiannon had written on, tucked it into a reasonably uncluttered drawer. He found a card with the gym's number on it, scrawled down his home number.

"If it doesn't work out, no hard feelings," he told the brunette. "You're the first serious person that's come in here to even ask questions, so you had a head start."

[rhiannon_lee]

Privately, Rhiannon agreed about the women. Some might be learning self-defense because of previous violence and a woman was bound to be less intimidating. She took the card and pocketed it. “When I come back, I’ll be dressed for a workout.” The comment struck her as odd in hindsight; she wore this kind of stuff on patrols all the time. A gym was just a different vibe. “See you then?”

[v_harkryder]

Virgil's smile displayed more teeth, and he nodded. He was curious to see what Rhiannon could do, possibly curious enough to get in the ring with her himself. But not just yet. Certainly not in front of the last class.

He stood up from the chair, offered her his hand. "It's been nice meeting you, Rhiannon. Glad you stopped. by."