AWD #074: Punch, Kick, and Listen
Punch, Kick, and Listen
Summary: After receiving advice from a friend, Ygraine has something to say to Holtz.
Date: 21/03/2013
Related Logs: Irrational and Stubborn
Holtz Ygraine 
Fitness Center
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 #74

It would come as a surprise to no one to see Holtz on the sparring mats in the fitness center; he's there now, pounding on one of the punching bags in lieu of a real flesh-and-blood partner. Most of the other regulars tend to give the burly captain a wide berth, and at the moment he's got the sparring area to himself. He's bare-chested, his shirt discarded at the edge of the mat along with the rest of his things. The bag quivers lifelessly as Holtz pummels it with a series of blows, following a rapid sequence of punches with a powerful roundhouse kick that smacks dully against the leather.

Ygraine makes her way into the fitness center, with a natural good beat one where to find Holtz when he's off duty. She makes a beeline for him while he works on the bag, settling herself in his line of sight without actively disrupting his rhythm.

After the kick, Holtz rushes back in, crouching down as he drives an underhand blow into the bag, right where a human's solar plexus would be. Catching sight of Yggy, however, he pauses and picks up a nearby towel to wipe away the beads of sweat rolling down his face. She gets a wave and a short "Hey" as he catches his breath.

"Hey." she replies, and moves to brace the bag. She's not as strong as he is, but she knows how to hold it properly, and weaker men hold the bag for stronger ones all the time. "You punch, kick, n' listen. I talk. Yeah?"

Holtz knows a good deal when he hears one. "Yeah," he echoes, shrugging lightly as he drops the towel off to the side. Then, after a brief curousity-tinged look at the young woman, he steps back towards the bag and begins raining blows down upon it once more. This time he slows his tempo a bit, focusing on power rather than speed as his fists slam into the bag in a slow but regular cadence.

"You don't ever gotta tell me anythin'. Ever." she states as she watches him, bracing the bag against her. Obviously there's more. It's coming.

Holtz' brow furrows slightly as his heavy right hook slams into the punching bag. "Anythin' about what?" Yes, it's obvious she's got more to say, but Holtz can be something of an impatient sort at times. She's got his attention, anyway, even if he is still half focused on laying the hurt on the poor, innocent bag.

"Anythin' about anythin'. Whatever ya got in your head that ya don't want me diggin' into, that I tried to poke at." she says. Funny, she thought this would be harder then it is. "Here's th'thing, You don't ever gotta tell me anythin', but if ya ever want to, ya can. Without any expectation on my part. I'm here. That's it." That really is it. She doesn't know if it came across the way she meant it, but that's it.

The look Holtz gives her at the mention of digging is about as close as one can get to scowling without actually scowling, but he nods slowly as she finishes, his expression softening a bit. "Yeah," he says again, his breath still a little short. He steps away from the bag again, this time to grab his water bottle. His expression is pensive, his eyes distant, but for the moment he just drinks his water and doesn't say anything else.

"That was it." she says again, maybe a bit awkwardly. Because what do you say from here? She makes a sort of shrugging gesture, mutters something about going to go stick her face in a locker, and starts to walk away.

"Well, don't do that," Holtz calls out after her as he steps away from the bag and begins to paw at the velcro on the gloves. It's the most he's said in one go since the conversation started, but his workout probably had something to do with that. "Ain't liable to go well for your face, yeah?" He grimaces as the velcro stubbornly remains in place. "You mind…" asks Storm, jerking his chin down at the uncooperative gloves.

She looks over her shoulder and rolls her eyes, chuffing a laugh as she reroutes back to him and lifts her hands to apply them to the laces of one of those gloves. "Course not." she says.

Holtz waits patiently until she's got one of the gloves loose enough to shrug off. With one hand thusly freed, he'll take it from there; the other glove is removed and the pair are quickly stowed away. He exhales. "Didn't mean to bite your head off," he says finally, the words tumbling abruptly from his lips. "I know sometimes I'm…" There's a pause as he trails off, apparently unsure how to finish the sentence.

"Tauran?" she suggests, and even though she risks offending, she's grinning so much, hopefully he'll know she's teasing.

Even if it was offensive, it'd be really hard to get angry at that face. So, instead, he just rolls his eyes and snorts. "Well, that's one way to put it," he answers wryly as he grabs his towel up off the mats and drapes it around his shoulder. The man looks thoughtful, but remains silent as he gives himself a quick towel-off before reaching into his gym bag for a shirt.

"Oh, that's just hidin' a light under a bushel." she says with a sigh when he goes to put a shirt on. In Ygraine World, Holtz with his shirt on is the exception, not the rule.

Holtz looks puzzled for a second at her words, but then chuckles sordidly when he realizes what she's getting at. It's not enough to keep him from putting the shirt on, though, an old metal band shirt that's had the sleeves hacked off at one point or another. "Wanna get out of here? I was gonna get a shower before I hit the rack." He picks up his bag. "Just alert five tomorrow, thank the gods."

"Sure." she say amenably. "You eat already, then?" She's trying not to read anything into the offer, but keeping him company in the head, usually leads to more than showers.

"Yeah, while ago." Holtz nods. There didn't seem to be an implicit offer underneath the stated one, but then that doesn't necessarily mean anything either. The bag is slung over the shoulder, and he starts for the door.

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