PWD #33: Think Fast
Think Fast
Summary: Cole pulls an emergency stop on Lennox's treadmill. No cigarettes were harmed in this scene.
Date: 3/12/2012 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: None
Cole Lennox 
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.
IC Date

Rapid fire thump-thump-thumps sound through the room like someone's banging the crap out of something. Sadly, it's not happy headboard times so much as running-on-the-treadmill-dear-gods-my-lungs. Ensign Lola Lennox runs like something's chasing her, except she's going nowhere — and making good time at it. She's not quite wheezing, but she's sweating, sure. The treadmill on the end my soon beg for mercy.

Lennox's long blonde hair is pulled into a loose braid over one shoulder, bangs sticking up in places from where she's run her fingers through them whilst working out. She's dressed in sweats, though the sweater-top's been pulled off and discarded in a pile by the treadmill, leaving a tank-and-tshirt underneath.

Stepping in from the pool and apparently still getting dressed from his recent swim, Aristides Cole gives a yank on the drawstring of his sweat pants, securing it around his hips with a quick knot. He's already redonned his tanks, and his hair is at least towel dried so it's not dripping on his collar. Shoes squeak on the slip-proof decking as he makes his way out into the fitness center proper, his small gym duffel slung over one shoulder. His trajectory towards the mats happens past the front of the row of treadmills and he sees a familiar face. "Think fast, Ensign." Pointy finger goes pointing right at the big red button for the emergency stop.

Lola jams a few buttons on the treadmill, which only leads to heartache for the internal computer, and a lot of beep-beeping. Mash, mash, mash. The blonde scowls a little, or maybe that's a frown. When Cole points out the big red button, she shrieks and throws her arms to the bars, shoves herself sideways once her feet are off the belt, like someone's just yelled GRENADE!, racks her leg on the hand rail, and stumbles across the deck. She takes a few sideways steps and rolls down to her knees before executing a comical flop to the mats nearby. There's a soft whump and she comes to a stop with a grunt. The first part of that entire… thing… looked a bit flail-y and out of the control, but the second half is a decently executed stage drop. She ends up spread eagle on the floor, not four seconds later, breathing hard and staring up at the ceiling. "Holy crap." Delayed response.

It's good timing too, because Cole wasn't joking about pushing the button. Just as Lennox's feet leave the belt, there is a loud protesting BEEP! as the treadmill comes to a screeching halt from the emergency stop being deployed. "Huh." Ari says nonchalantly as he shifts the weight of his bag to his other shoulder. There is the annoying squeak squeak of his shoes as he approaches the supine Lola, and his face appears in her field of vision as he looms above her. "Normally they face plant." As if this is an excercise all Ensigns must endure.

"I — " Lola rasps out, still sucking in deep breaths to try and calm her rapidly thumping heart. "… have a… " She wheezes out a breath at that, and continues, "Brother." As if that explains everything. And maybe it does. "Jerk." There's no venom in the pronouncement, just a statement of fact. She gives him a slightly narrow-eyed look, then shakes her head and reaches up, as if expecting a hand up from the floor. Her breathing doesn't quite even out in the intervening time, which could be a hint that she's more than just a casual smoker. Messy blonde strands fall across one eye, and she surreptitiously takes a little glance around the gym without turning her head. So really, it's a glance around about a quarter of the gym to find no one watching.

"No," He corrects. "Me Janitor. You Lennox." See? He remembers her name, even if he delivers it in stilted Colonial. "Shit, you must've hit your head on the way down. Do you need to go to medical? Have a concussion? How many fingers am I holding up?" One, to be exact: the middle. But it's all in good fun as his lips split in a wide shit-eating grin. One finger gets swapped out for a full hand that he offers down to Lennox.

Lola nods along with the flipping off, and the hint of a grin chasing around the edges. A practiced eye at noting such nefarious intent might notice something amiss in the way she's all happy about it when Cole actually offers his hand down to her. She reaches for it, takes a tight clasp of his hand, and then she pulls, throwing her body weight, such as it is, back to the mat.

Maybe he was expecting it. It's what he would do in the same situation, right? Just as she tightens her grasp, Cole loosens his. As she pulls, so does he, and with the combined sweat of their palms things get a little slippery. To be more specific, Lola just ends up back on her back and Cole is yanking his hand back towards his hairline and smoothing back the short locks. Too cool for school. Cha-cha! "You have a brother? I have a pistol of a wife." He leans over Lennox again and goes to tweak her nose. "Better luck next time."

Lennox thumps back to the mat with a heavy grunt that turns into a sigh. She takes a swipe at Cole's hand as he tweaks her nose, but misses, much like a drunken kitty. "Too much oxygen. Need more cigarettes." She grunts again, a soft little sound, and rolls to sit up, wiping her sweaty palm down the leg of her sweatpants. "That doesn't mean this is over, Janitor." Bold words from a girl on her ass. She reaches down to shove off the mat. She flips her hair out of her eyes, and drops ineffectual fists to her hips. "Got any smokes?"

There is a hearty laugh from the Lieutenant as he takes a step backward to allow Lennox to regain her feet without any more interuption. "I'd be disappointed if it were." The duffle makes another swing to his opposing hand, and Ari fishes into one of the pockets. There is the familiar crinkle of a soft-sided, military grade pack of smokes. Victorious! He shakes one loose and instead of offering the single one to her, he takes it for himself with a pinch of his lips, muttering once again, "Think fast, Ensign." As he tosses the pack in her direction.

Lola's amber eyes flit to follow the progression of that pack from the time it emerges to the time it's tossed. Heat. Seeking. Missile. Where cigarettes are involved, she is on it. The little pack's swiped out of the air like she was born performing the act. She crinkles the pack very lightly to palpate the contents, judging without looking the potential gain to her cigarette stash. One might get the impression she's resisting the urge to go curl up in a corner somewhere and recite love poems to the ciggies. "You really do that to all the Ensigns?" Her gaze flicks to the treadmill and back to Cole. Does she doubt the cruelty in his cold, black heart?

"Only when it's convenient." There's about 1/4 of a pack left, so he's not being overly generous. Cole points a finger in her direction. "That's your ration of mooching for the week, and only because I feel sorry for concussing you." There is a bit of a smirk that curls lopsidedly, if only because he's still gripping that cigarette with his lips. "Enjoy the rest of your workout." Because it seems he is done with his, and his torment of the Ensign, as he's heading for the hatch.

Lola's facial muscles twitch, but she keeps an apple-cheeked grin off of her face. She tips her chin down a little to add a little credence to her expression, which almost makes it to chastised. "Till next time." Yeah, she really does say that out loud. Too bad her voice is pretty much the opposite of deep and foreboding.

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