twiststheblade (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
twiststheblade) wrote2006-10-10 04:05 pm
twiststheblade) wrote2006-10-10 04:05 pm
Gym-time
The problem with working ut 'au natural', as it were, is the lack of resistance. Miho isn't much of a one for weights training, and her stretching routine uses nothing other than her own body, but every now and then it's nice to have something that will fight back. And, lacking an opponent, at least something that will resist. She assumes that the gardeners, and some of the other patrons, might have something to say if she started beating up the trees.
The gym, however, has punch bags. So, she's squared up against a heavy hanging bag, and a dull, fast
-thunk-
-thunk-
-thunk-
sounds out round the room. The bag quivers on its ropes, but it isn't going anywhere. She's fast, though, obscenely fast. And accurate. She has to remind herself that, unlike when she is sparring with the air, the bag cannot stand up to repeated hard blows on the excat same square inch of fabric.
It is possible to burst a punch bag. It's difficult, but it can be done. And she thinks that she might find herself rather unpopular if she covered the floor of the gym in stuffing. So she bounces lightly on the balls of her feet as she strikes, moving around the bag.
The gym, however, has punch bags. So, she's squared up against a heavy hanging bag, and a dull, fast
-thunk-
-thunk-
-thunk-
sounds out round the room. The bag quivers on its ropes, but it isn't going anywhere. She's fast, though, obscenely fast. And accurate. She has to remind herself that, unlike when she is sparring with the air, the bag cannot stand up to repeated hard blows on the excat same square inch of fabric.
It is possible to burst a punch bag. It's difficult, but it can be done. And she thinks that she might find herself rather unpopular if she covered the floor of the gym in stuffing. So she bounces lightly on the balls of her feet as she strikes, moving around the bag.
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Staaaaaaaares.
She knows about the Oompa Loompas. She's just. . . never seen them.
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Weights are released rather too abruptly.
Goldy has never seen them either, so she stares as well, though perhaps not with quite as much wonderment.
"Now that's efficiency for you."
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...down...
......down he goes. He's doing his best to not pay any attention to the women in the room. Bigjobs are just a distraction. Besides, the faster this is done, the quicker he can get back to his tea.
Childsized hands reach out for the now disconnected rope of the heavy bag.
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So Miho steps over, hauls the bag as upright as she can, and holds out the rope.
She's being useful - right?
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She reaches under the seat and grabs her bottle. Water will have to do in the absence of popcorn.
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Great.
This one's trying to help.
Fantastic.
He couldn't look more thrilled, oh no wait...he could.
If she really wanted to help she wouldn't have broken it in the first place, now would she? He sighs, rolling his eyes.
Once he's got the rope firmly in one hand, the other goes for a clip at his belt.
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She's just going to. . . be over here. *ahem*
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She's never quite accepted Milliphysics.
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A good smirk can go a long way, and in this case we mean that quite literally.
Once he's clipped the rope to his belt, he looks up towards the hole and whistles.
He whistles Dixie to be specific.
At once the ceiling begins to peel back, panel after panel, until there's a hole large enough to accomidate the gentle swinging of the now suspended bag.
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This is officially weird.
Fascinating, but weird. Still, she's quite prepared to be fascinated, and stare.
Okay, what next?
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Goldy is suitably enlightened, perhaps even a little sheepish to have doubted in the first place.
As work continues, she adopts a thoughtful expression.
"Do you think you ought to tip him?"
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"I don't know. What does one tip and Oompa Loompa in?"
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He takes another clip from his belt, attaching it first to the hook, and then to the bag. The new set up is tested with a few sharp tugs before the first line is unclipped.
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"Candy, I suppose. Or toys?"
She glances up at the Loompa, to see if either proposal meets with approval.
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After all.
You never know.
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"Are they even old enough for that kind of thing?"
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Bigjobs.
Can't live with them, and killing them is against the rules.
He looks up into the black that is the last open ceiling panel.
With a whirrr he begins to rise, disappearing into the black.
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"Well. That was odd."
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"Not that I have seen Raph around for... ages."
She looks a bit sad about that. She misses their ragging sessions.
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"My ass was fine. And I don't know Raph. Miss him?"
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She lays down on her back between the handles.
"I suppose I do miss him a bit. He's fun to tease and cut up with."
She went up to the roof to check in on him once recently, but his tent was dark, dusty and strewn with leaf litter—apparently abandoned. Though, there was a Raph-shaped area on the couch that was almost clean...
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"I've mt him. Don't know him, though."
She might be eyeing the woman and the weights.
"Want me to spot you?"
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Not that 'spotting' is strictly required on a multi-gym bench press.
But they both know that.