AWD #191: Not Quite Queensbury Rules
Not Quite Queensbury Rules
Summary: Evening workouts become somewhat awash with testosterone.
Date: 16/Jul/2013
Related Logs: None
Toby Mahasti Winston Samtara Bennett Iphigenia 
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 #191

It's dinner time, and most of those not hard at work are in the mess. Some though are taking advantage of the relative quiet to work out, having either decided to skip the meal or make do with the left-over once they done.

At his usual punchbag is Toby, hands and wrists carefully wrapped to protect against the force of the repeated impacts. By the look of things he's been at it a while, that or various other exercises, it's hard to say, but he's certainly going to need a shower when he's done. His focus is quiet clearly on the bag though, and he mutters to himself as he punches away.

Mahasti is slipping in, from the pool, hair wetted down, towel around her neck. She looks like she's had an intense enough work out, she looks around, instead of getting in the way, she takes a small set of dumb bells, actively beginning the strengthening part of her work out - something she clearly needs overall. Her main focus seems to be back on her triceps and shoulders for whatever reason. Her towel is left around her neck. "That poor bag." she comments off handedly towards Toby.

Winston lumbers into the fitness center, his standard surly scowl etched on his face. He slings his dufflebag to the floor at the foot of one of the freeweight benches, startling the younger Marine private preparing to start some reps. "You're in my seat, private," growls the burly Taurean. "Go put them twiggy arms of yours to work on one of the nautilus machines instead." He watches the private lope away, stammering, then turns and starts stacking extra weights on the bar, shaking his head. "Kids," he grunts as he tightens the lugs down, having added nearly a hundred kilos. Straddling the bench, Sergeant Winston takes ahold of the bar and starts pumping iron, the weights clanking softly with each rep. On one such rep, he catches sight of Mahasti, swimsuit edition. He holds his rep, indulging in a lengthy stare.

Toby doesn't break his flow as he hears Mahasti's words, neither in movement nor words, not immediately at least. Then, shortly after, once he seems to have finished whatever it was he was saying he replies louder, "evening Doc. Just working on that cardio stuff your lot are always on about." He hasn't turned to face her as he talks though, which means he has a perfect view of Winston's oggle. That does make him stop, and he even holds a hand out to still the bag. "Oi," he calls over, "what the frakking hell are you staring at?"

Mahasti smiles brightly "Hello again, Toby. Didn't miss anything exciting did I?" she asks, her arms going up over her head to do a slightly different stretching routine, focusing on her form more than the weight. She blinks at Toby's words. "Er?" she tilts to try to follow his stare, looking absolutely baffled by the two. "I was starring at the wall." she offers to Toby "it helps me focus, did I offend you?" she asks, voice a little self concious suddenly as she returns the weights and moves her towel. "If I did I'm sorry!" she nearly chirps.

Winston resumes pumping iron, slow, deliberate reps. "Just enjoying the scenery," he grunts, tendons standing out on his neck as he hefts the barbell into the air. "Why, you jealous? Don't worry sweetie, I'll still be home in time for supper and that special foot rub you love so much." The bantering doesn't break the big Taurean's stride, though he is becoming red-faced and starting to break a sweat. Which is to say he could probably attract some doe-eyed innocent still, given the smell. A glance is given back in Mahasti's direction. "Evening, Doctor Sir. How goes your day?" he grunts.

«Frak you arsehole,» Toby scowls in his native tongue, before turning away from the marine and back to Mahasti, "Don't worry Doc, once again, not aimed at you." That said and done, and after a quick glance is shot in Winston's direction again he starts on the back once more, this time with a little added 'why am I surrounded by morons' to work out.

Mahasti looks absolutely confused by the two Taurans. "Er, I missed something again, didn't I?" she asks towards Toby due to his tone of speech, taking a pair of five pound dumbells - oh yes she's really busting her ass today. She returns to doing her small weight reps at high repititions, "Staff Sergeant, its nice to see you. Please remember to wipe the equipment with a sanitizing wipe when you finish." she chirps, terribly cheerful in tone. "How do you keep your punches so evenly timed, Toby?" she asks, curiously, as if the whole art of war was lost on her.

Winston glances at Toby, again holding his rep. A sneering grin twists his mustache, and he looses a snort of laughter. «Not tonight, honey, I have a headache,» he responds in Taurean, before resuming his pumping. He finally sets the barbell back on the rest, sitting up and digging into his duffle for a towel. "Don't worry, Doctor Sir. Any bugs that can survive me sweating on 'em deserve to kill us," he says, chuckling softly. He looks back to Toby as he wipes sweat from his face, off the back of his neck. "Looks to me like someone's a little pissy over something," he quips.

"Don't worry Doc," Toby replies, not breaking his workout this time, "the jarhead was just being true to form." He's about to answer her question when he hears the words of his own tongue and turns to regard the man a moment, once more breaking the flow of his punches. «Witty,» he replies, keeping an eye on him, «for a marine. Tell me, did you have to write that one down so you'd remember it?» Then back into standard for Mahasti's benefit, "just keep your eyes to yourself, the Doc ain't some thing to stare at."

Mahasti looks repulsed at Winston's words "MRSA, conjunctivitus, shingles, you are a marine so I'll venture ebola, athlete's foot, cold sores - a lovely form of herpes, scabies, impatigo, coxsackievirus also known as hoof and mouth disease, lice annnnd ring worm all reasons to wipe down the bench before and after." she mumbles, setting the weights down and hiding her face in her nice clean towel before taking a sanitation wipe to wipe her weights down and then her hands, tossing it into the rubbish. "I'm admittedly openly a bit of a germophobe though." she offers, she pauses "Toby? Toby is a good guy. He's hard working and intelligent. Don't be an ass to him." she directs towards Winston. She blinks "You must be awful blue balled to oggle me." she comments to Winston. She shifts a biiiit closer to Toby though, getting redfaced and coughing into her elbow lightly.

Samtara may not know what the topic of conversation is, but she recognizes a recitation of potential bacterias, infections, social diseases and more when she hears one. With a clean towel draped over one shoulder, a water bottle held in her right hand, Sam pauses just within easy conversation range of Mahasti and eyes her friend/colleague with a worried look. "Should I get the bleach wipes?" is wondered in a worried tone of voice.

Winston looks up at Toby, again with that sneer. "'course not," he grunts, tossing his towel back into the duffel. "I'm a marine. We can't read or write, didn't you know that? Just a bunch of dumb brutes, us." He glances back at Mahasti, then to Toby. "Nobody said she was a thing, paisan. I sure as hell didn't. I don't ogle things." He looks back to Mahasti. His grin softens, turns a bit more friendly. "And you have it exact, Doctor Sir," he says, heaving to his feet. "Bluer'n a supernova on cooldown." He turns and lumbers over towards the maintenance closet in the corner, rummages around, and comes up with some sanitary wipes. These he uses to give the weight bench a proper scrub down. "No need, sir. All under control," he says to Samtara.

"Good point," Toby replies straight back to Winston, his tone not portraying the contrition that his words might suggest, "how silly of me to forget." Seemingly putting the marine out of his mind he gives the newly arrived Samtara a nod in greeting, "evenin' Doc. Don't worry, we're all good." Mahasti's edging closer is noted, but he says nothing for now, attempting to focus on his workout once more. Now though, now he isn't muttering to himself as he punches.

Mahasti smiles "Good evening Captain. I was explaining to the staff sergeant why we wipe the equipment when we finish." she's got that visible 'please shoot me into the nearest star' look she so often gets when marines puke on her in the sick bay or she has to deal with handing out special shampoo and little combs. Winston makes her look uncomfortable "Can we please as a whole not make me feel even more uncomfortable than normal?" she asks, frowning just a bit harder than normal and sort of hides in her towel from the pool. Soft Leonese mutterings escape into the towel. "Oh um Toby had an idea." she offers "For joint Medical and Deck emergency drills" she offers, voice getting a little more comfortable.

Samtara eyes the marine (as Winston has self identified himself as) with a quietly wary look, "I see," is mused before she nods a greeting to the tech genius from the Deck crew, "Mister Shackleton," is voiced in greeting over the sound of Toby's contacts with the weighted bag. "I think bleach wipes are a all-occasion sort of thing, myself," she says in a mild tone of voice, "in a perfect world, there would be bleach wipe containers everywhere and everyone would be required to carry little packets of them," is added. Perfectly reasonable, because really, who doesn't like to kill germs. "Joint Medical and Deck emergency drills? I like the sound of this," she glances from Mahasti to Toby then and back, "To bad we don't have a fire pole, I've always wanted to see how fast we could drop through the length of the ship, wearing full gear, on one. I don't suppose we get to talk command into installing one," rather morose tone of voice there.

Mahasti grins "We could ask Petra, he seems to give into Medical demands rather easily. She grins "Dr. Samtara Nadir, CMO. Samtara, Staff Sergeant Winston Titus." She blinks "I would prefer to be called a person, Staff Sergeant." her tone gives away a distinct lack of amusement. She sort of leans to rest her weight on a weight container "There is no standard 'full gear' for medical, there are sets of full gear to be carried as necessary." she pips slightly "I made a list of what we need for that .. thing.. Sam, remind me to leave it on your desk?" she asks, reaching back to take her left foot and tug it back behind her.

"It'd make containment impossible," Toby replies to Samtara, without even having to pause for thought, "you need to be able to isolate and contain and making a funnel right the way through the ship is a really good way to let things spread from containable to catastrophic before anything can be done." Then, as an afterthought he adds, "not to mention the insane increase in surface area required for boundary cooling, and the logistics involved in co-ordinating across decks like that." Then back to Winston, "bully for you." «Still, it's not like you have any real work to do I suppose, may as well take the time to do something other than drinking beer and eating midrats. Once in a while.»

"Valid points, all around," Sam replies, tucking both hands into the hip pockets of her cargo pants as she glances from face to face. "We don't have a regular gear or kit that we wear, only what's needed for each deployment, so it'd be a variable amount of weight. But within listed tolerances it could be a workable variable," she suggests to Mahasti. "And Marines aren't animals. Well, I cant' speak to how you Marines party, but . . you gentlemen are braver than I am, by a rather significant range of measurement." This being said she casts a look at Mahasti, small frown forming, ""You have that look, the one that says someone either vomited on you, or is possibly about to." She studies Toby again for a moment, "Tauran?" she wonders curiously.

Winston continues to watch Toby wailing away on the bag, dropping his hands to hook his thumbs in his belt. "You really are a killjoy, y' know that?" he asks. "Let the doctor dream, why don'tcha?" He shifts his weight, looking over the bag, then Toby's hands as they pummel the canvas. Again, the sneer, as he switches to Taurean. «You talk like a nerd,» he says. «And you hit like a girl. Don't they teach engineers modern army combatives in Dork School?» He holds up a hand, drawing in a breath. "Oh. Right. I forgot. Too many cadets breaking their nails." The quip earns a snicker from the private Winston exiled to the nautilus, which, in turn, draws a glower from the Staff Sergeant. "Did I say something funny, private?" he growls. The chastened private snaps his jaw shut with a mumbled 'sir, no sir' and goes back to working at the machine.

Toby gives Samtara a silent nod in answer to her question before Winston's words have him reaching out to still the bag again. Evidently what was said in their native tongue was not the most complimentary towards the tech as he takes a half step towards the marine. "I'm not an engineer and I sure as hell was never a frakking cadet," he growls back, clenching his fists at his side as he does so. «I learnt back home, none of that fraking fleet shit.» Flicking between Tauran and Standard almost without thinking he continues, getting angrier as he does so "and tell me, how many close quarters, confined space fires have you had to deal with? You think they're a laughing matter? You want to make a joke of men dying a terrible, terrible death? Well, come here and say that or shut the frak up now."

Mahasti ehs "I got to thinking about the exchange of fluids required for contact." She eyes Winston and then eyes her manicured fingertips "Oh one of the ladies in the 'special ward' puked on me earlier, but its nothing. You did miss my nose bleed in the middle of the mess." she watches the two "Winston, would you humour me and lay down on the matt there for a moment?" she asks, gesturing over towards it, she leans over to whisper to Sam with a slight pinkness creeping over her ears. Likely sharing juicy gossip or something a bit personal. With Toby puffing up she sort of leans back towards Sam, withdrawing her offer visibly "And here I was going to grind my heel into the nice Marine."

Sam glances slowly from Toby to Winston and back, taking a step closer to Mahasti to more or less form a team at her side, just in case. "If they start to fight, do we get to lay odds on the outcome of potential injuries, stitch count and broken bones?' she wonders, en sotto voice.

Winston's sneer turns into a broad grin. There's no humor there. Only something raw. Something… animal. "Firefighter, huh?" he says. "Well… fireman. I've dealt with fires before. Cylons are fond of napalm. See, steel doesn't melt at the same temperature that tissue does. And they don't even have to have good aim. 'cause if an AP round hits their tank? They're a walking fireball, and they've just taken out an entire squad." He takes a step towards Toby as the other man bulls up to him. "So yeah. I think death's hilarious. I piss on Hades and frak his bitch wife Persephone on a daily basis. Y'know why? Because they can't have me. They can't have me, or any of my boys, or anyone we fight to protect. Because that's what we do. That's why our asses are on the line… and you… are just a fireman." He doesn't seem to hear Mahasti or her rather… unconventional request. He's busy staring down at Toby. "So what, fireman. You gonna do something? Then frakking do it," he growls. "Show me you can be more. Show me that you didn't live because you were lucky. C'mon." He spreads his hands out. "Right here. Let's see whatcha got."

"Among other things," Toby replies, through almost gritted teeth, "and you can laud your anti-toaster credentials over me. Deck ain't the ones giving succour to a skinjob, welcoming it with open arms as if it were a person. No, we're the ones with the plan to wipe out armies of centurions at a time, just as soon as the brass get off their arse and approve it, while you lot get all buddy buddy with the infiltrator." Those final words are almost spat back at the taller marine, although the man's bigger build doesn't seem to be deterring him as he squares his shoulders. «I don't believe in luck,» he finishes with, just as he lashes out a knee aimed squarely at the marine's nads. This is not to be Queensbury Rules it seems.

Mahasti eyes Sam, thoughtfully grinning at the men as she leans "I've got a chocolate lava cake and the bottle of sparkling wine I traded a pornomag for on one of us getting blood splattered if it does go down" she pauses "You realize if they really get into it, neither of us can break it up, right?" she offers, nose scrunching lightly "I mean we could go get a hose and blast them that way?" she offers, looking just a bit weary of this testosterone festival "I'm glad Siska, Stone, and Morgan are all far too laid back for all this posturing." she critiques, quietly, whispering back at Samtara, still pink. Before visibly realizing something. "Oh oh this might get bad, Sam. I don't think Winston knows about the wolf in sheepskin method of toaster warfare." she winces a bit visibly.

"Hmm, Morgan would be in there already making them stop OR telling them to take it into the boxing ring," Sam suggests in return before she gives a chuckle. "Hmm, I can ante up some homemade jam, fresh from planet. Raspberry I believe," she puts this on the table before uncapping the bottle of water she's carrying and does not, at all, interfere. "I still think there's some way to dissect one an see if we can hack into it," she adds in that same quiet voice.

Winston cocks his head to one side as he takes in what Toby's saying. "Wait. What? The frak you talkin' about, fireman?" he growls. "We got no infiltrators in the Marines! You just—woah!" He sees Toby's knee coming and sidesteps, moving remarkably fast for a man his size. That animal grin comes back. He all but licks his chops, a hunter scenting prey. "Hunh. You kick like a girl, too." He cracks his knuckles, starting to bounce on the balls of his feet. "My turn." And with no further ado than that, he hauls off and aims a savage haymaker at Toby's head.

As soon as it becomes apparent that his kick is going to be useless, Toby concentrates on getting his balance back so he can respond to whatever Winston decides to return with. At the marine's denial he just laughs, almost unbelievingly, "No infiltrators? Eh? You mean besides that Toaster Sergeant of your's?" Stopping to converse was possibly not a great idea though as it distracts him from the incoming fist and in the end he can only partially duck out of the way, taking a blow to the temple before stepping in to thrust his own fist into his opponent's guts.

Mahasti eyes Sam "Morgan is also twice as big as me, so I leave the fighting and fight breaking up to much bigger men." she offers. She ponders "You know, if we don't bet we could just have ourselves one hell of a enviable evening." she jokes, smiling at Sam as she watches the two. "I don't think anyone's filled Winston in." she offers again to Sam, watching the two. She reaches into her bag, taking out her small first aid kit to wrap around her waist since it will likely be needed soon enough. "This could get a lot nastier than originally intended." she comments, softly to Sam, keeping an eye on the two men and glancing at Sam every so often.

Bennett slips through the hatch and into the fitness centre proper, lugging a duffle bag over her shoulder. Dressed in a tee shirt boldly proclaiming her to be 'Property of the Colonial Navy' and a pair of sweats cut off several inches above the knee in flagrant disregard for regs, she marks a path toward the bags. Her attention is drawn by the sparring marines, whom she pauses for a few moments to watch.

Sam rolls her right shoulder, again, subtly, "That we could, indeed," she says. "I ought to break it up after they each get some of it out of their systems," she murmurs. "But . .not yet." She does agrees with a nod to Mahasti, "We should have a boxing night and let people bleed off some steam."

Winston isn't sparring. There's no mistaking the icy rage that twists his features now, replacing the swaggering sneer of before. He turns into Toby's punch, letting it glance off his side with little more than a gutteral grunt to show for it. "You answer me, fireman," he snarls. "What the frak do you mean? What sergeant? Only toasters I seen on this ship make my poppy tarts in the morning." He steps forward, trying to get inside Toby's guard, aiming a fist straight at the other man's nose, dead on.

Iphigenia heads for the bags herself. She has a certain air of frustration to her, and she seems to be eyeing one of them as if she plans on imagining a particular face. Better on the bag then said person, right?

Toby quite clearing isn't sparring either, although there's no coldness in his features, his are all hot with anger and rage. "Open your frakking eyes then," he almost screams back, "cos you're bunking with one. Knox, or Six as I believe he is more correctly called." Once again he's able to partially turn away from the incoming blow, saving his nose but it's likely he'll have a beaut of a shiner in the morning. Stepping back a pace to try and keep himself out of range as that sinks in he snaps, in Tauran, «toaster lovers the lot of you» before moving in once more and risking a shot at the marine's jaw, even with the height difference.

Sparring, kicking the shit out of one another, sometimes it's just semantics. Those fists, however, seem wielded in a particularly vicious manner. There's a slight downturn to Bennett's lips as she watches, and an almost imperceptible tension that snakes through her shoulders. After a protracted pause, and a rather bold sweep of her eyes over the big marine, she edges toward the punching bags where Iphigenia is setting up. Her duffle is dropped, and her long, quick fingers begin tying her hair back into a ponytail. "Good evening, Sister," she greets quietly.

Mahasti smiles "Mouth gaurds would be better, I actually wouldn't be opposed to getting taught a little more when I have time." she offers to Sam before addressing Bennett. "Hello chouette." she chirps towards Bennett, half teasing with the nickname. "Mind the two brawling Taurans, Sam and I are trying to decide the best way to break it up when they go too far. I'm not sure what sparked it, but, I'm assuming it was 'balls over brains' related." she offers to the pilot. "Hose?" she asks, curiously more if she should get a hose and spray the two off, taking a sucker out of her first aid kit, unwrapping it and inserting it in her mouth. She then begins taking out a pair of nitrile gloves. Clearly expecting to need to use them. "Watch out they are actually all wired up." she mumbles.

Iphigenia has a gym bag, which she drops to pull out some knuckle wrap and begin wrapping around hers. "Captain," she replies over her shoulder, her expression becoming less frosty. "Bennett," she ammends, "You're doing well?"

Bennett adds, with a glance over her shoulder and a warm — if somewhat strained — smile for Mahasti, "Hello, doctor. Yes, I see that; I suggest letting them get it out of their systems. We can intervene once blood and teeth start flying." She must have experience with marines.

Winston's eyes go wide at that bit of Taurean. It's like waving red in front of a raging bull, or the spark that hits a pile of high explosive. All rational thought flees the big Marine. He lets loose a blood-curdling roar and throws himself bodily at Toby. Hands outstretched going for the other man's neck, eyes wide, pupils down to mere pinpricks. Spittle flecking his whiskers, even. The big guy has gone berzerk. "NRAAAAAAAAGH! I'LL FRAKKING KILL YOU!" he bellows. His rage makes him stupid—well, stupider than usual. He scrabbles ineffectually at Toby, unable to get a grip on the smaller man. Doesn't keep him from trying.

There's a part of Toby's brain that can't help but be intimidated by the sudden change in Winston, and that bit decides it wants to run away and hide somewhere. Fortunately for his pride though, the rest of it is so hyped up with anger and adrenalin that he's staying put. Ducking and diving to keep out of the marine's grasp he has a go at making the other's blind rage work against him by ducking into extreemly close quarters, withing the guard of his grasping arms, and once again aiming a knee for the nads. "Your the ones sleeping with him!" he growls, while everyone else though is entirely forgotten, or, in the case of the new arrivals, unnoticed.

"No," replies the pilot in lieu of the perfunctory response to the 'are you well?' question, lips curving into a bittersweet smile that speaks more of bitter than sweet. "I would rather not talk about it. Would you like me to hold the bag for—" And then Winston roars, and her head whips around to face him, in time to see the big man launch himself at Toby. "Oh, for frak's sake," she mutters. "Excuse me, please." And, well, wades right the hell in. "Gentlemen." She reaches for Toby's arm — or whatever she can get a decent grip on — perhaps figuring him for the safer bet. "GENTLEMEN."

Mahasti watches Iphigenia, watching the two men with some concern. Her hands stay at her sides, sucker adjusted in her mouth without any fuss. At the scream she visibly twitches. It is pretty clear the petite doctor wants no part in the actual fighting going on. She edges towards Iphigenia, taking a moment to dig into her scrubs that are still in her gym bag for a small bottle of ibuprofen, tucking it in her sweat pants pocket.

Iphigenia starts to reply to Bennett, when the pilot is diverted by the scuffling the two enlisted. "Doctor." she acknowledges Mahasti serenely as she watches Bennett's effort to break the men up.

Winston isn't thinking. He's just acting. Unfortunately, it means he doesn't react very well. He doesn't even see the blow to his man-parts coming until it connects. The shock is enough to bring him out of his blind fury, just enough. He staggers, bending double, his breath coming out in a ragged cough. "Nngh… you frakkin' son of a bitch. You don't get to call me a Cylon-lover!" he snarls, trying to straighten himself. But before he can launch another attack, suddenly there's an officer raising her voice at him. Panting for breath, he steps back and stands to attention as best he can, considering he just took a knee to the junk. He fidgets somewhat, trying to get comfortable. "Sir," he grunts, staring straight ahead. But still quivering. Trembling with fury. Hands balled up at his side, knuckles white.

With his blow connecting solidly, Toby is launching himself forwards to take advantage as Bennett makes her grab. Swinging round instinctively to see off this new threat his fist is aimed squarely at her head but thankfully, at the last moment, he notes the actual situation and manages to abort. As his brain rapidly catches onto the fact that the violence is over he takes a step or two away from Winston, or as much so as Bennett's grip will allow and the marine is shot a dirty look. He doesn't say anything though, in either language, just attempts a few deep breaths before straightening himself as well.

Shouting is not something Bennett does well. She has a voice made for gentler things, and it goes rough and slightly hoarse when she raises it. "Sweet Lords of Kobol, get ahold of yourselves," she chastises in a soft hiss. As Toby's fist looks like it might get up close and personal with her face, she instinctively flinches and turns away— she's clearly not a fighter. Once the technician seems to be backing down, she uncurls her fingers from his sleeve slowly, and glances to his erstwhile opponent. "Are you all right, or do you require medical assistance from doctor Nasreen?"

Mahasti bows her head lightly in a respectful way "Ma'am. Excuse me while I go try to cool the big one down now that he's calmed down enough to talk to." she whispers to Iphigenia. "Nice meeting you." she tilts "Toby, Winston, are you both okay?" she asks, carefully, edging in until she's near Bennett, Toby, and Winston. "Winston, would you like an ice pack and an ibuprofen tab? That clearly hurt." she asks, taking her gloves to properly snap them on, there is clear concern for the health of the men over yelling at them, trying to get a read on the injuries.

There isn't much that Iphigenia can do here. Making a case for the resident Cylons, even with the proof of faith that she has, won't help them. She then blinks at Mahasti. "Who are you calling ma'am, doctor? I'm not a civilian." She continues to observe the goings-on.

Winston sucks in a few deep, ragged breaths. Swallows a few times. Then he straightens his shoulders, pushes past the pain. "No, sir," he says to Bennett. "I'm fine. I've had plenty worse." His eyes flicker in Toby's direction briefly, before resuming their straight-ahead glower. "Sorry sir. I lost my cool. It won't happen again." His gruff, gravelly base curt, clipped, professional. Everything the big guy was not mere moments ago. At Mahasti's offer, he glances at her briefly. "Thanks, Doctor. Sir. That… would be very nice. Thank you."

Toby took two blows to the head, one to the temple and the other lower as apparent by the bruise all ready starting to spread along his cheekbone. Shaking his head at the general remarks about medical attention he squares his shoulders as well, although if through sheer stubbornness, or something more akin to pride and satisfaction at being the one with the upper hand when it was ended it's hard to tell. "I'm fine Doc," he replies to Mahasti's specific query, not looking at Winston at all (although the offer of an ice pack for his opponent does form him to rapidly suppress the beginnings of a victorious smile.

Bennett smiles faintly at Winston. "I'm not sure I believe that." That it won't happen again. "Though I suggest you channel that rage at the cylons, rather than Mr. Shackleton, who quite expertly keeps my fire extinguisher extinguishing, and my ejection seat ejecting, and whom I would miss if you pounded into the deck." She pauses. "That really didn't come out right, did it?"

"Hmmm." Iphigenia remarks, clearly biting her tongue. Whatever she has to say, she keeps it to herself, apparently opting to be a bystander.

Mahasti pauses "Sorry, Sir. Distracted, sir." she chirps at Iphigenia. "Let me grab you an ice pack too, just to be on the safe side. You aren't any good to anyone if your brains turn to gelatin." she mumbles, heading for the rec room briskly enough "I told you, Toby is a good guy." she shouts back at Winston, making her trip very brief, returning within a minute with two ice packs. Made from supplies in the rec, namely two zip bags and available ice. One bag is handed to Winston, and one to Toby. "Ibuprofen?" she offers, taking her small bottle out to jiggle at Toby.

Winston remains at attention, for the time being. He's a Marine, and he knows the drill. Sometimes, he even follows it. "As you say, Doctor Sir," he says to Mahasti. Though he does flick his glance at Toby, from time to time. The rusty gears in that thick growth he calls a head are creaking rustily.

Toby isn't entirely sure an icepack is entirely called for, but since it's presented to him he accepts it anyway, holding it up to the battered side of his face. He does decline the pills though, shaking his head as he replies, "no, thank you, it's fine really." He starts to say 'he punches like a girl' but catches himself safely ahead of time and turns it into a "besides, it's a fast day, so I shouldn't." His eyes flick quickly then to Iphigenia then back to Mahasti, "cultural thing. I'll find you in the morning if I change my mind."

Iphigenia lifts a brow at Toby, but does not deign to reply. Whether or not today is an actual fasting day? She doesn't affirm one way or the other.

Bennett, meanwhile, seems intent on getting back to the business of bagwork. The boys are in good hands, and it doesn't appear that anyone will be taking a ride up to medical in a stretcher. Drawing a deep breath, the pilot smoothes some stray wisps of hair out of her eyes and launches a flurry of punches at the thing. While not uncoordinated, her strikes lack any real skill.

Mahasti smiles at Toby "If you need an ibuprofen, let me know, if your vision blurs or you get dizzy, not from fumes, don't take a nap, consider going to sickbay." she offers a shrug, her sharp eyes clearly focusing on Toby's to make sure he's alright there. She clearly isn't going to force him to take over the counter pills. "Good enough. You know how you are feeling better than I do." she offers honestly towards Toby "Winston would sitting down help you out? Would you like an ibuprofen?" she asks before pausing to eye Toby "Could you help me with something maybe tomorrow or the next day? Its small and shouldn't take over twenty minutes, its just delicate work and I am not so good at fixing things that aren't flesh."

"Would you like me to hold the bag, Bennett?" asks Iphigenia, now prepared to resume her own efforts as well, and echoing the Captain's earlier offer back at her.

Winston takes the ice pack and goes to sit his bulk down on the weight bench, pressing it to the inside of his thigh. He looses a grunt, his face wincing as the pressure makes the pain flare up briefly. "Thank you, Doctor Sir," he says to Mahasti. "I'd love a couple." He looks up at Toby, then back to Mahasti. "The frak does he mean? There's a toaster in the Marines? He's bullshitting me, right? Trying to get a rise out of me." He grunts again. "It worked. That kid's damn lucky the captain there stepped between us. Nobody calls me a Cylon-lover. Nobody."

One, two. One, two. One, two. Pause. "Please." Bennett blows her bangs out of her eyes, and shoots Iphigenia a wan smile. "I would appreciate it." She straightens and backs away from the bag for a moment, to allow the chaplain to position herself. "How goes the tending of your flock?"

"Understood Doc," Toby replies to Mahasti as she gives him the run down of instructions. Keeping the icepack to his skin he then gives her a brief nod, "yeah, most likely, just find me when I'm off duty or go begging to the Chief." Iphigenia's silence seems to have been what he'd been hoping for, or at least not been what he'd been hoping against for he gives her the quickest of acknowledging upnods before he turns to make his way out of the fitness centre. He hears Winston's questions to Mahasti, but figures she can have the fun of explaining that one to him.

"It goes - " there's a pause, as Iphigenia seizes the bag and holds it while listening to the other three talk. There's a small sigh. "There is, as always, the faithful, the non-faithful, and those that regard faith as their personal enemy. I manage, distractions aside. How goes the tending of yours?"

Mahasti eyes Winston a bit "He isn't lying but now is not the time for that. Toby probably shouldn't have called you a cylon lover, he's just very rooted in his feelings about them and I think you should understand that he utterly loathes them. Why don't you grab a shower, meet me in the rec room and you can bullshit with me while I read up on sonography some more. You can tell me about your little ones and relax and deflate a little." she offers, calmly. "I like listening and you are slightly more interesting than old opera scores." she offers up at Winston, likely intending to keep an eye on him until she's sure he's calmed down fully.

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