ALT #335: Exercise Regimes
Exercise Regimes
Summary: Various members of the air crew converge on the fitness center to work out, and work off a few things, in some cases.
Date: 07/12/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Not really
Atalanta Bennett Gideon Phin Warren Ygraine 
Fitness Center — Deck 3 — Battlestar Orion
Smelling of sweat and grease, the Fitness Center is a place where individuals can come to work out or just work off stress. The area closest to the entrance is taken up by two very large sparring pads with a pathway down the center, each pad removable to reveal a Pyramid court beneath. The walls beside the pads hold lockers for everything from pugilist sticks to boxing gloves to rubber guns, though deadly weapons are strictly prohibited in here except by authorized personnel such as on-duty Military Police. Standing goalposts for Pyramid are also kept against the wall. Past the pads are a vast number of nautilus machines as well as free weights to lift. At the back of the room are workout bikes, rowing machines, treadmills, and stairclimbers. There is an entrance to the pool at the rear as well as a locker room to the side.
AWD #335

It's late afternoon and 16:30 is not the time to usually find the CAG in the fitness center. Of course, she can't usually be found pounding away on the treadmills, either. She's really more of the forty-laps in the pool at 0:500 sort. But for whatever reason, there she is — her hair plastered to her head, a sheen of sweat on her face. It's starting to soak into her tank top, too, and making it stick to her back. It's hardly any wonder why — she's wearing without the matching tee, and working at rapid clip. Running to nowhere, her feet hitting the tread with a thud.

Phin also does most of his physical training requirements in the pool. And he's just finished doing that, in fact. He comes out of that area, sweat pants and tank top a little damp from being pulled on over his suit, towel draped around his neck. He's using it to lazily dry his hair off, which is making it rather spiky. He heads over to one of the free exercise mats to sit, and start some cool-down stretches. It's not far from the treadmills as it happens. He spots Atalanta, and blinks once. "Hey, sir." He doesn't stand up again, though the straightening of his posture suggests he considered it.

Gideon walks in, sweat pants and tank top much like phin's ready to do his workout. He's been kind of quiet sense being on the Orion, keeping mostly to himself. There are people here, however, and it would be impolite to not speak up. "Sir." He says, saluting the CAG, giving Phin a polite nod. "How are you all today?"

There's a pause as she's saluted, one foot falling out of time. That's dangerous on a treadmill, and Franklin is lucky to catch herself before she does much more than trip up a step or two. She pulls a headphone out of her ear, letting it dangle down while the other remains in place. "Lieutenant," she says crisply, though it's difficult to say which one she's addressing. Possibly both, for convenience's sake.

Phin reaches over his outstretched legs to touch his toes. Maybe to hide a grin when Gideon salutes. Just maybe. "Hey." The greeting is offered to the ECO, while he's still bent over. He holds that position for a second, then straightens back up. It takes him a second of thought to recognize Gideon, and even after it he doesn't look entirely sure. "Helios, right?"

"Gideon Helios, yes. And you?" He asks, grinning at the man. He starts his stretches as well, placing one leg way out to the side, then leaning the other way. "How are you today, sir?" He asks the CAG, offering her the same smile he offered Phin.

"Burning off a bit of frustration," she answers, with her usual unsettling honesty. She presses a few buttons on the treadmill's console, slowing her speed down to a brisk walk. Either her workout is coming to a close, or she's trying to avoid interrupting their conversation with the heavy pounding of her trainers. "You're one of the recent transfer off of Picon, aren't you? One of Captain St. Clair's? I hope you've been settling in well enough."

"McBride," Phin replies, as to his name. "Uh, first is Phin. Callsign's Dolly. And…I'm a Lieutenant. Any of those'll do." Atalanta's answer earns a somewhat curious look from him. Somewhat. Not curious enough to ask more about it. "I can never get into the right headspace on a treadmill. If you can get a few hours, doing cross-country down on Pireaus is a better way to go. For me, at least."

"Pleasure to meet you, Phin." Gideon replies warmly, happy to just spent time with people. When Atalanta speaks he looks back to her. "Frustration? What about?" He asks, not really in the loopp. He nods politely. "Aye, I've settled in well, I think. Kept to myself for the most part. That's going to change I think, though,"

"I'm not especially fond of the treadmills myself, but I'm afraid I don't have shore leave any time soon." A stickler for regs, then, isn't she? Surely the CAG could find a way to duck out for a few hours, if she really wanted to. "And I'm even worse with the punching bag." She brushes a strand of hair off her face, one that had been sticking to her cheek and getting in her eyes. "So it seems this is my best option, considering the circumstances. They're finally looking at the fleet at Hebe for salvage — I asked a Captain from Engineering to go over the possibilities recently, though I'd asked Petra about them months ago. Now we've got three thousand people heading planetside, nowhere to put them, and winter's coming." A beat. "If either of you gentlemen happen to have an entire apartment complex laying around your lockers, do let me know, hmm?"

Phin starts doing those 'arms over and behind head' type stretches next. First straight up, fingertips pointed like an arrow at the ceiling. He holds this, before easing it down and pulling his left arm across his right shoulder. "Never been too fond of the bag either, sir. If it's not anti-Fleet to say so," Phin says, with a very slight grin. Though his expression sobers when the 3,000 people on the planet are mentioned. "The Minos refugees? How're they doing? I haven't gotten down to the planet much since they arrived."

Bennett arrives from the Recreation Hall.

Gideon hadn't met whoever they were talking about, so he doesn't make a comment. He had heard a little bit about the refugees. "Next time I'm over there I'll check, Sir." He says, grinning slightly. Not wanting to pester the CAG with questions, Gideon is quiet and waits for her to answer Phins question about the Minos Refugees.

Bennett trickles into the fitness centre as others are trickling out, headed to duty rotation or the mess hall no doubt. She's sporting sweats and layered tank tops, her hair scraped up into a haphazard ponytail, and appears to be attempting to disengage from a fatigues-clad pilot who won't stop talking.

"The last I heard, there's a few hundred of them down there already. The construction they began during the summer is already full, and they've started putting the additional arrivals in tents, though I honestly have no idea how long the tents will last." There's a shake of her head and finally, Franklin gives up on whatever it was she'd been listening to, pulling her other headphone from her ear. "They may try to keep them on some of the ships they're on now, when the tents run out, but truthfully… these people have been living underground since War Day. This is the first time in almost a year they've been outside, or able to interact with someone from outside their own makeshift community. To keep them crammed into cramped quarters like that when there's an almost entirely uncolonized planet below? I doubt it will go well. But what other options do we have?"

Phin looks like he got out of the pool not long ago. Tank top and sweats damp from being pulled on just after, and there's a towel around his neck with which he's occasionally drying his hair. At present he's seated on one of the free exercise mats, doing cool-down stretches. Legs out in front of him, arms bent back behind his head as he works his muscles through various positions. About the Minoans he nods, though he seems unsure precisely how sympathetic to look. "People adjust to what they have to, sir." He shrugs. And moves onto something else. "You came from Picon, right? How liking battlestar life?"

Bennett intimates something rather quietly to the officer she'd walked in with. Hand on the younger woman's shoulder for a moment, and a smile as she disengages finally. Phin, Gideon and the CAG are spotted on her way over to the benches, and she flashes a grin in the wingers' direction. Her bag's slung off her shoulder then, and she briefly rifles through it for her water canteen (dented) and towel (rumpled).

Warren pushes his way into the fitness room, giving a nod to someone as he does, "Yeah I'll catch up with you later man." Over his shoulder is his bag and as he moves towards the benches he glances around here and there, taking note of those in the room. He smirks a moment giving a nod to the other wingers in the room as he pulls out his towel.

"Lieutenant Helios," Atalanta says, from her spot atop the treadmill. She nods her head in Bennett's direction, which does absolutely nothing whatsoever to peel the damp strands of hair off of her face. "Meet Captain St. Clair, your squadron leader. Assuming that you haven't already, of course. A former CSAR pilot — she's one of the best we've got, and you stand to learn a lot from her. Besides," she says, reaching for her water bottle and taking a swig, her cheeks puffing out slightly before she swallows. "She knows everyone, and that can be awfully good for you."

"Lieutenant Helios," Atalanta says, from her spot atop the treadmill. She nods her head in Bennett's direction, which does absolutely nothing whatsoever to peel the damp strands of hair off of her face. "Meet Captain St. Clair, your squadron leader. Assuming that you haven't already, of course. A former CSAR pilot — she's one of the best we've got, and you stand to learn a lot from her. Besides," she says, reaching for her water bottle and taking a swig, her cheeks puffing out slightly before she swallows. "She knows everyone, and that can be awfully good for you."

Gideon considers everything that Franklin has said, nodding then speaking carefully. "I don't really know, Sir. We've got smart people on the Orion, however, I'm sure we'll figure something out." He smiles, replying to Phin now. "I came from Picon, yes. I like it much better on the Battlestar. Joined up to see the stars." He laughs, then nods to Bennett, offering a salute. "Sir. I believe we met briefly when I first arrived here. You are doing well today, I hope?"

"Butch. Toast." Phin offers those greetings to Bennett and Warren, while bending over to touch his toes to his stretched-out legs. He holds that for a bit, giving his muscles time to stretch and achieve some tension. "What's the good word? Or…whatever word." Gideon's reply gets a slight chuckle. "Yeah, that's the line. Join the Fleet, see the worlds. While they're exploding, but you'll see them. Guess that hasn't changed so much, at least."

Bennett returns Gideon's salute with a fingerwaggle, blue eyes cutting from his head to his toes and back again with a deceptive laziness. Recognition clicks after a beat or two. "Lieutenant Helios. Tempo, right? Yes, I believe we did meet briefly, on Piraeus." For some reason, this memory seems to amuse her. Phin's greeting causes her to glance over her shoulder briefly, and smile when she spots Warren. Then back to Atalanta as she takes a swig of water from her bottle, "Flattery will get you everywhere, sir. Are you trying to soften me up for an upcoming op?" Her expression never strays from that delicate, sly little smile.

Warren gives a nod over towards Phin, "Dolly. The word of the day is Snickerdoodles. I don't know why. I'm not the one who makes the word of the day." He smirks a moment and glances over to Bennett a moment with a smile before looking over to Atia, "Major. How's things with the wife? Patch things up alright?" Theres a grin after that as he moves over towards one of the treadmills. tossing his towel over one of the rails.

"No," the blonde retorts, smoothly. "I'm simply stockpiling as much good will with you as I possibly can, for the day I've —," she cuts off, suddenly. Whatever it was that she was about to say to Bennett is gone, swept away in a wave of laughter. She doesn't laugh particularly often in front of her men, and almost never like this. It's the sort of sudden outburst that can't really be contained, it comes on so quickly. Thank the gods above that she has the presence of mind to plant her feet on either side of the moving belt, onto the stationary step bars, lest some unfortunate but entirely hilarious accident happen. "Damn you, Smythe," she mumbles, shaking her head.

Gideon says to Bennett. "That's me." Casting her another polite smile. His gaze returns to Phin, a small burst of laughter coming out of his mouth. "Yes, something like that. I actually just like the stars, always have. How about you?" He stops just in time to hear the CAG laugh rather loudly, turning to see what the commotion; was all about.

Phin gets a chuckle out of 'Snickerdoodles' from Warren. "Sounds like an Intel code name for something nasty. Or a sweet addition to the chow line." Even if he likes the joke, the laughter from Atalanta surprises him. And makes him turn to blink at the CAG. "You…OK, sir?" Like seeing her laugh is somehow alien. To Gideon, "I definitely wanted to get off-planet, so the stars were kind of part of that. Military just seemed like my best option."

Ygraine arrives from the Recreation Hall.

Bennett raises a brow at mention of the CAG's wife, gaze flitting between Warren and Atalanta with the dubiousness of one who suspects an inside joke. Nevertheless, her canteen is capped off and set beside her bag, and she begins with a few arm circles and quad stretches before wading onto the sparring mats. "I have heard they are moving people down to Piraeus," she comments absently to Atalanta. "The Minoans we rescued. There is talk of volunteers needed to help build additional housing. I would like to section off some resources in the squadron to assist with hauling down supplies, sir, if possible."

Warren tries his best to stiffle his chuckle with a cough, "Sorry Sir. I know its a touchy subject." He smirks and shoots a smile over towards Bennett as he steps onto the treadmill and hits a few buttons to start going at a slow pace. When Bennett speaks up that seeminly reminds Warren of something as well, "Oh that reminds me Major. I do owe you drinks down there at charlies."

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Atalanta says to Phin, as she catches her breath and finally brings her treadmill to a stop. Then she glances, sidelong, to Warren. To him she mumbles, with an expression of absolute innocence. "And the misses and I managed to patch things up quite nicely after you were so good as to get involved. But if you see your squadron leader walking around with a black eye, Captain, you know why." One brow arches, marching towards her damp hair as she waits for his reaction, her expression otherwise becoming a mask of serenity. Jokes are only something which she has so much time for, though, as her eyes flick over to Bennett. "We were just discussing the housing issue a few minutes ago — in fact, I'm supposed to be on my way to an officer's card game in a few minutes, and was planning on pressing the poor fellow from Engineering for an updae on the Hebe Fleet. I'd recommended salvaging it months ago and with the number of civilian liners I saw floating there, they ought to be able temporarily house some of the refugees in better accommodations than they've got now, while they determine what's worth keeping and what out to be scrapped for building materials."

Phin's brows do some arching of their own at the talk of his squadron leader and a black eye. But, he so doesn't ask. He does mutter, "Doesn't he always have a black eye?" and continues stretching. Rising up from his toe-touch position. He's not long out of the pool. Sweats and tank top a little wet from being pulled on just after, towel around his neck with which he's lazily drying his hair. It's gotten kind of spiky. He goes through what seems to be the end of his regime, ears clearly still tuned to the discussion of the Minoans.

Warren smirks to himself as he presses the button on the treadmill speeding up a bit, "Of course Major." Theres a bit of a chuckle as he picks up the pace some, now at a slow jog as he listens to the conversation on the refugees.

Bennett's smile shifts to a mock pout, far too exaggerated to be genuine. "An officer's card game, and I was not invited?" she speculates. "Did they really think I was sharking that tactical fellow at the last one?" She was. Talk of salvage and the Hebe fleet causes her to raise a brow as she lines up one of the punching bags, and taps it with her knuckles for distance. "Let me know if we can help you out with that, sir."

Atalanta can't help but smirk, however faintly, at Phin's aside. "Department heads, mostly," she replies to Bennett, with an apologetic shrug. It means one thing — top brass. And with top brass comes all the best liquor, and all the worst conversation. "Though if I manage to swindle the one Captain's wife out of the last of her nail polish, I'll be certain to let you know. So long as you don't use all of it." Really, she ought to stretch to keep her muscles from cramping up. And she does, sort of. A few quick toe-touches, twisting to the sides to stretch out her lower back, too. It's hardly a full routine, though, and she may well regret it come morning. "In the meantime, if there's anything that the Raptor crews can do to get those people's belongings down to them, do it. And depending on what they find on those cargo ships that were floating with the fleet at Hebe, you may want to prep your crews for cold landings. I have no idea what it's going to take to bring them back online and I suspect we could put whatever's in their stowage to good use long before they can get them all up and running again."

Ygraine makes her way into the gym area. She's got her usual barrell bag, carrying it over her shoulder, and naturally she's dressed to work out. "Hey Sirs." she offers to the general company of higher ranked officers, the mention of Raptor crews perking her ears. She doesn't have much to comment on about it though, so there's just amenable smiles as she goes to wrap her fists.

"Captain Gray?" Phin asks, when Bennett mentions 'that Tactical fellow.' "I would not want to play cards against that dude. He's got that non-descript kind of face that the best counters have." Apparently finished stretching he stands, and heads over to the free weight area. It's not too far from the treadmills, but he doesn't interested in that sort of exercise. Instead, he starts setting a bench up for some leg presses. He can't help but comment to Warren, "You should try the pool, dude. Works more muscles than the treadmill. And it's not dead boring…" A glance at Atalanta makes him quickly add, "Err, sorry, sir." Ygraine is noted, and he sticks his tongue out at her when she calls him 'sir.' Even by association.

Bennett, meanwhile, has begun sizing up her 'opponent' and warming up with a few light taps to the bag. Her hands have been nominally wrapped, and her form.. isn't the greatest. She will never make a good marine. "Gray?" she murmurs, eyes on the bag save for a brief flick Ygraine's way, and a quick flash of a smile for the blonde. "Do you mean the weaselly spook? No, I would not touch that one with a ten foot pole either." Jab, jab, hook.

"If its any consolation Butch I'm not on the list for the game either," he says with a smile then glances over at Phin and his comment with a smirk. "Yeah Dolly thats true, on the other hand I wouldn't get such wonderful conversation or company in the pool," Warren says as he continues on his merry little jog, "And who could pass up the opertunity to watch Butch over there pretend I'm the bag?"

"Ohhh, wonderful," Atalanta murmurs. "It sounds like I'm going to be positively swindled tonight." Apparently, Captain Gray is precisely who she's playing cards with. She slings a towel over her shoulder, collects her water, and points a finger at Phin. "You keep apologizing to me for things you haven't actually done, Lieutenant. Save them for when you've actually done something wrong. In the meantime, if you'd all excuse me?"

"Toast do something to offend your sensibilities, Captain?" Phin calls over to Bennett with a grin. "Should hit him harder, in that case." He makes a slightly abashed "Oh" sound at Atalanta's words. "Uh, right, sir. I'm…" Then he stops himself, perhaps from giving her another abstract apology, as he lays down on the bench. Legs push out to lift the weights once, then slowly lower again.

Bennett snorts softly at Warren's comment, and gives the bag a few good thumps culminating in her knee slamming into it solidly. "Better?" she tosses back to Phin with a wink. "Bring me back some juicy gossip, sir," is given to Atia's departing back.

Atalanta leaves, heading toward the Recreation Hall [RH].

Warren chuckles a bit at Phin calling out to Bennett and her response at all that, "Wow Dolly. Way to get her to crank up the juice there, trying to get me killed eh?" He smirks a bit at that as he keeps jogging and gives a wave to Atia as she heads out, "So Butch you're going to have to help me kidnap the CAG for drinks at some point."

"Aww, don't be so hard on Spook. He can't help it if he's built to be a sneaky bugger." says Yggy cheerily. She then adds, "I'd pay a pretty cubit to see the CAG in her cups. Just sayin'. Anybody up for sparrin'?"

"I still cannot imagine going out drinking with Teatime," Phin says. Not that he doesn't come off as kind of starched himself sometimes. But that's probably different. Somehow. He breathes in and out slowly as he works the weights. He's not using too much, but it's enough to give him a decent amount of resistance and work his legs. He doesn't immediately volunteer to spar, but he does kind of roll his head in that direction. If there's going to be a show, he wants to rubberneck.

Bennett probably isn't serious about having a bone to pick with Warren; or at least, she doesn't look particularly bothered as she picks up the tempo with her strikes on the bag. One, two, one, two, pale eyes focused sharply on her target, ponytail whipping around when she goes in for a reverse roundhouse. Sloppy, but at least she doesn't lose her balance. "I will pass this time, Vashti; I am fairly sure you'd wipe the floor with me." As to the CAG, Phin gets a chuckle and Warren a brow waggle. "Don't believe everything you see, where that woman is concerned." And that, it seems, is all she's willing to say on the matter.

Warren smirks at Phin, "Dolly, she's great when she's drinking, or going drinking. How else do you think she found her wife hmm?" He chuckles a bit when Bennett chimes in and shakes his head pushing up the speed a little bit. "Butch, we'll get together later and plot her kidnapping for drinks. We may have to trick her into getting out of her office more. Maybe we'll kidnap dolly here too," he says with a smirk at the end.

Ygraine lifts her brows at Warren. "Hi, right here, in front of ya." she says, since he made a point of mentioning Dolly but not her. Then she shrugs. "Nobody up for it? No big. Phinny, hold m'bag?" She means one of the body bags of course, so she can beat it up instead.

"You're making me sorry I missed boxing night. I wouldn't mind seeing where this whole CAG's wife thing came from." Phin keeps doing leg presses, rolling his head toward Ygraine. "Just a sec. Need five more reps." Which he does at the same deliberate, deep breathe-y pace. Before he relaxes out from under the weights, and rolls into a sitting position. "The bag I can handle. Just don't hit it too hard. I might break a nail. Ruin my manicure." He's joking, of course. He does not have one.

Warren raises an eyebrow at Yggy, "I didn't realize you had to be -kidnapped- to go drinking? I figured if there was drinking you'd be there before us… I mean we could kidnap you if you wanted but…" He shrugs either way as he continues jogging, though he slows down the pace just a little with a tap to the treadmills controls.

Bennett looks briefly between Warren and Ygraine, fingertips on the bag to steady it between reps. She does not comment on any of it, except to say, "We should make a wing event out of it. Set up a triad game in the officer's lounge." A smile, slight, and she seems to debate a moment before deciding she's done with the bag. The wrappings are unwound from her hands, one at a time, as she watches the ECO get set up.

Ygraine raises an eyebrow right back at him but says nothing, instead she focuses on finishing her hand wraps. Shrugging and rolling her shoulders, she takes up a position in front of the bag and grins over at Phin. "Take your time, old man." she teases him, noting to Bennett, "That'd be fun, though would she let herself get toasted in front of everybody?"

"Don't old man me. I'm younger than you. Well, by a few months." Still, Phin takes some time to stretch a little after he stands. Before ambling over to the heavy bag. "Anyway, you don't have to kidnap me to get me down to Charlie's. It sounds like fun. I haven't been planetside since a little after we got back from full-time duty on Picon."

Warren smirks a bit at to Phin and shakes his head as he keeps jogging. "I don't know you seem pretty set on not being able to visualize the CAG drinking, or being a person. Figured we might have to trick you into seeing her like that," he says with a little chuckle.

Ygraine sets herself into stance and begins a few loose punches and kicks to warm herself up. "Just because he can't visualize it doesn't mean he can't process it." she huffs between shots taken. "And it definitely ain't hard t'get him down t'Charlie's."

"I can believe she's a person. Theoretically," Phin says with a half-smile, as he takes hold of the bag. "Ready when you are, Ygs." Now that he's talking about it, he is kind of curious, though. "Did you guys serve together long before the attacks? On the Rubaul, I mean."

Warren smirks a moment and shrugs, "I was there in 2003, so I knew her for the length of her stay there. So bout a year and change I think. We actually had served together very briefly a long while ago back on the Axiom…not very long though." He starts to slow down his jog a bit more hitting the control pannel again.

Ygraine's kicks and punches begin to get more foreceful. "She's a good pilot. Maybe not as good as Storm," because let's be real, that loyalty's never going to die, "But what obviously she wouldn't be where she is if she wasn't."

"Storm's a better gunner." And the distinction seems important to Phin. "He's a better gunner than probably any of us. If I had to make bets on who was a better stick handler, though, I'd take Teatime." He tries to hold the bag steady, though it shifts as it's forcefully kicked. He keeps his feet well enough, though. "What was she like when she was y…?" He was definitely going to say 'younger.' But he has the presence of mind not to. "…before the war? Even back on the Axiom."

Warren smirks, "Storm is good. But I'd go with Dolly with this one. Storm can shoot, but the CAG can make that viper sing. Course I could be biased there." He taps down on the speed again, down to more of a walk now than anything, "As for the CAG? Well always been a bit distant, but she's always been good people. Loyal, dedicated. Took a while to warm up to you but when she did she was a good friend. She was a little more distant with people on the Rubaul though. Always serious though. Also unlike now you couldn't count her ribs when she had her tanktop on. Really need to get that woman to eat some more."

"Fair point." Ygraine concedes, on the matter of stick versus gun. "Some people are just naturally slender. I'm kinda grateful we can't get as much as we used to, else I'd probably have winded up lettin' th'hips out of my flightsuit." A snicker. She's kidding, of course. "Got any ideas for how t'fatten her up?"

Phin nods a little as Warren describes Atalanta's less-authority-filled days. Hard to tell immediately what he makes of it. He doesn't reply right away. Maybe he's working on maintaining his grip on the bag. "Piraeus keeps us in pretty good supplies. Hopefully it'll be enough to stretch, with all the new refugees in from Minos."

"Well theres the idea of tieing her down and making her eat but I'd rather avoid the brig. But other than that, scrounging up pastries and sweets, fruits and such and putting them on her desk…always loved those," Warren says as he keeps walking on the treadmill, "Though the fresh fruit will have to wait till spring I think. Wonder how many of those refugees are bakers…or can make pastries…"

"Is there anything ya know she likes?" For some odd reason, Ygraine's taken to this idea of how to put some weight on the CAG. Maybe it's a farmgirl thing. "Can ya find ot?"

"There are parts of the planet where it's still summer. Supposedly there's a region that's almost tropical," Phin says, setting his feet so they're a little sturdier. "I kind of figure Command'll end up moving some of the people in the settlement to one of those spots, if they can't find room on the ships and have to keep them in tents."

Warren nods at that, "Yeah I can find out her favorites for sure. And if Phins right you might be able to convince Bennett to get a flight out there for some fruit too." He turns off the treadmill grabbing his towel to pat himself down looking like he's just about done here for now.

Ygraine suddenly grins. "Lemme see what I can do, too. I got ways, y'know." Those ways being 'I trade condoms for delicious food'. Because she's gifted like that.

"If you do it on your off-time, let me know," Phin says. "If I can get some leave, I wouldn't mind tagging along to a warmer spot. Get some sun." He adds, "If nothing else, I'll make sure I've got some hours for some time down at Charlie's. Y'know. For when I'm kidnapped."

Warren grins to Yggy as he grabs his bag, "I will most certainly figure things out and get that info to you." He smirks to Phin and winks, "Just remember if you get blacked bagged in the middle of the night, try not to scream like a little girl." And with that he's heading for the door.

"I'll try real hard to refrain," Phin says wry, raising one hand off the bag to offer Warren a wave of his palm. "Later, Toast."

Warren leaves, heading toward the Recreation Hall [RH].

Ygraine casts her eyes heavenward, landing a few more punches and kicks on the bag. "Charmer." she remarks wryly, stepping back from it. "Like ya need t'be dragged down to Charlie's."

Phin laughs. "Toast was just joking around. And giving me a little bit of shit about going on about drinking with the CAG." Which still, clearly, is an idea he finds quite strange. "I'm all touched you defended my ability to have fun, though." He winks.

She heads for her gym bag. "Well, ya know. Ya gotta fight for your right t'party and all that. Is it bad t'secretly kinda wish for a barfight now and again?"

"As long as you don't try and start one with the new Taurons," Phin says, heading over to reclaim his own bag. Which he'd long ago abandoned near the water fountain. He's joking, but only mostly. "I am kind of sorry I missed the boxing day, even just to watch it. There'll be others, though. Not like there're going to ever be less reasons to blow off steam on this ship."

"I missed it too." Ygraine confesses. "I had CAP. But ya know anytime ya wanna go, I'm happy t'give ya a few rounds, right?" A grin. The last time they sparred…

"You that eager to kick my ass again?" Phin remembers. "I do need to practice my hand-to-hand. And redeem myself. But now, I need to log some rack time. Later, Killer." With, Phin shoulders his bag and heads out.

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