AWD #201: Working Out, Working Through
Working Out, Working Through
Summary: Holtz works out some of his stress on a punching bag and Phin. He doesn't take kindly to inquiries on a certain subject from Phin and Bennett.
Date: 26/07/2013
Related Logs: None
Holtz Phin Bennett 
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 #201

Not that it should surprise anyone, but Holtz is once again in the fitness center. Rather predictably, he's over by one of the punching bags, his chest bare and his fists taped(but not gloved) as he rains a fusillade of blows upon the limply jerking and twisting bag in front of him. He's been at it for at least a little while, it seems; several beads of sweat are running down his skin, and the others in the room seem to be giving him a wide berth as they go about their workouts.

Phin certainly doesn't look surprised when he spots Holtz working the bag. He's emerging from the pool area, dressed in sweatpants and trainers, though he hasn't bothered to put put his shirt back on. Towel draped around his neck. He looks like he was in there awhile. Also not unusual. He tries to take care of as much of his required physical training in the water as he can. He stakes out a mat where he sits and begins some cool-down stretches. It's not right next to Holtz's punching bag, but it's not too far away. He doesn't greet the other pilot immediately, though. Perhaps hesitant to interrupt his pummeling regiment.

Unlike all those corny martial arts movies from back in the Colonies, Holtz doesn't punctuate his every move with a grunt, or a high pitched cry, or any of that. In fact, he's almost eerily silent as he keeps working on the bag, the only real sound coming from his fists and feet impacting on the leather. He finishes his routine with a high, scything kick that knocks the bag back like a giant pendulum, swinging back and forth for a few second before slowing to a stop. He's panting slightly as he pauses, evidently taking a breather before going back to it, which is when he notices Phin on the nearby mat. "Hey, Dolly," he manages between rapid breaths as he towels his face off.

Phin extends his legs out, and bends over to touch his toes. A pose he holds. The kick and subsequent knocking of the bag makes him turn his head toward Holtz again, so he's looking in that direction when he's greeted. "Oh. Storm. Hey." The greeting is casual enough, if maybe a little tentative. "I take it you won?" Chin-nod toward the bag.

Holtz snorts in vague amusement as the towel passes over his matted, curly hair, and he nods. "Damn thing doesn't move much, but it can sure's frak take a hit," he answers lightly before tilting his head slightly to the side, the corners of his mouth twitching slyly. "Care to step in? It's a better workout than that godscursed pool."

"Uh…" Phin eyes the still-swaying bag, then eyes Holtz. He does not strictly speaking look eager. But he finally says, "Yeah. Sure." He bends himself back into a normal position and stands, going over to tape up his knuckles. "Don't knock the pool. Works, like, all your muscles. And it's less boring than a treadmill. Better for your knees, too."

In response, Holtz goes to a nearby cabinet and pulls out two pairs of gloves, tossing one in Phin's direction. "I'll let you in on a secret… I can't swim. Never could. You throw me in that pool an' I'd probably sink like a frakkin' stone." There's a snorting laugh as he shakes his head at himself. "I lived on Caprica for a few years, bought a lake house 'cause Beth wanted to live by the water. All that time, I never went into water above my head."

Phin catches the gloves, looking a bit less resigned to this as he tugs them on. He offers Holtz a slight grin. "I could teach you if you want. Might come in handy, if you ever need to eject over blue. I'd think if you're athletic you'd pick it up pretty easy." He shrugs. "Maybe. I was born on the gulf. Was swimming before I can walk, or so I'm told."

"Feh." Holtz waves dismissedly. "That's what flotation devices're for, yeah? Besides, aren't I a little old to be learnin' new tricks?" His eyes roll sarcastically at that, but he's grinning a bit as he laces up the gloves on his hands. Once they're in place, he bashes his hands together, his tattooed arms taut in a ready position. "Ready when you are."

"You only look kind of ancient," Phin says, grin quirking. "I think you'd do OK with it if you wanted to." He doesn't push the matter, though, squaring up. "Ready when you are. We doing regulation rules, or freestyle? With kicks and stuff?"

Holtz smirks. "Regulation rules're for pussies." He throws his arms out wide before bashing his gloved fists together once more. "Do your worst." In spite of the command, he doesn't wait for Phin to attack as he rushes forward and throws a quick jab at the younger man's head.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Holtz=melee Vs Phin=melee
< Holtz: Failure Phin: Good Success
< Net Result: Phin wins - Solid Victory

Phin doesn't match the older pilot's brawn or height, but he's quick, and his first instinct is to duck rather than attack. So the jab goes over his head. "Cool by me." The 'regulation rules're for pussies' gets a grin. "Not like anybody who jumps you's going to follow them." He juts out a leg to aim a kick at the other man's ribs. He's taken his shoes off for this, in addition to putting on the gloves.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Phin=Melee Vs Holtz=Melee
< Phin: Success Holtz: Great Success
< Net Result: Holtz wins - Solid Victory

Holtz's twisted smirk widens at Phin's retort, even as his fist passes harmlessly over the younger man's head. "Exactly." His expression abruptly goes flat, though, when Phin's leg snaps out at his chest. Reflexively, his hands flash out in response, and he manages to actually grab Phin's leg by the ankle. Blue eyes stare blankly at Phin for a moment or two, and then suddenly he twists his grip, trying to wrench the other man to the ground.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Holtz=melee Vs Phin=melee
< Holtz: Good Success Phin: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW

Phin wrenches his leg to try and get it out of Storm's grip. He doesn't quite succeed, but he keeps his balance on his other side well enough that he stays upright. Rather than flail more to try and get away, he jabs his foot forward to try and shove it into the other pilot's ribs. Trying to get something out of being locked so close to him.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Phin=Melee Vs Holtz=Melee
< Phin: Success Holtz: Success
< Net Result: DRAW

Bennett arrives from the Recreation Hall.
Bennett has arrived.

Holtz's grip is strong, to the point where Phin's attempt to drive his immobilized foot forward merely results in a heavy tap on the Tauron man's chest. Suddenly, he releases Phin's ankle by shoving him back, hoping the sudden change will keep him off balance enough to not be able to defend against the series of heavy punches Holtz is charging forward to deliver.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Holtz=melee Vs Phin=melee
< Holtz: Good Success Phin: Success
< Net Result: Holtz wins - Solid Victory

It works, too. Phin hops hastily back, feet pattering against the mat as he struggles to steady himself, and he's left off balance enough that Holtz lands a couple of solid hits on his torso. He braces himself rather than really trying to dodge. Just trying to firm up his stance, so he can resume punching. Aiming a rabbit-y right jab at Holtz's jaw. The pair of Viper pilots are squaring off in an impromptu boxing match. Holtz seems to have the advantage, though it's proceeding more evenly than one might've expected.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Phin=Melee Vs Holtz=Melee
< Phin: Success Holtz: Great Success
< Net Result: Holtz wins - Solid Victory

This isn't the first time Bennett's walked in on two crewmates whaling on one another, and it probably won't be the last. This time, at least, the beating looks like a relatively civil one. The raptor driver pauses a moment in the entryway to watch the pair, then heads over to the sidelines to stretch. She's dressed in military-issue sweats with a somewhat less than military-issue cut several inches above the knee, and layered tanks. Her long hair is in the process of being scooped into a ponytail.

Sparring with a real person is much different than just pounding on an unresponsive bag, but Holtz is beginning to make the adjustment. He continues to advance, giving Phin the choice of either continuing to stumble backwards or get run over by the proverbial truck. Phin's jab is contemptuously swatted aside by Holtz's trunklike left arm, even as his leg snaps out in a trip move. Bennett's entry is, for the moment, unnoticed, as his flashing, silent eyes seem focused entirely on his opponent.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Holtz=melee Vs Phin=melee
< Holtz: Great Success Phin: Success
< Net Result: Holtz wins - Crushing Victory

Phin doesn't notice Bennett either. He's got Holtz's very large fists to concentrate on. Unfortunately, he's paying less attention to the man's leg, and he's successfully tripped. He sprawls on his back, wind knocked out of him. That'll hurt in the morning.

Bennett is hardly doing much to draw attention to herself, even if the two viper sticks weren't otherwise occupied. Finished pulling her hair out of her face, she drops forward and touches her fingertips to the ground, dangling there for a few moments while she observes the match upside-down. There's a slight wince as Phin is downed. Ouch.

As soon as Phin hits the ground, Holtz dives after him. His lips are twisted in a silent sneer as his knees hit the mat right next to Phin's torso. He goes instantly for the subdual, moving to press a tattooed arm against the other man's neck while using the other to lock down and immobilize one of Phin's arms.

Phin doesn't have time to regroup, winded as he is, so he's subdued without much further struggle. He grunts as the arm makes contact with his neck. "Yield, dude." As if it needs to be said.

Bennett gives her quads a quick stretch, one ankle at a time, then rolls out her shoulders with a series of shrugs. While not built anywhere near like Holtz, she has a leanness to her borne of necessity. "Good evening, boys," she greets after a time, once Phin's no longer in danger of a Tauron arm bar.

Holtz holds himself in place for a few seconds even after Phin offers his surrender, but gradually the sneer fades and he finally withdraws the elbow, slowly pushing himself back to his feet. Chest heaving slightly from the exertion, he strips one of the gloves off and silently thrusts his hand at the prone Phin, offering the other man a hand up. "Hey, Butch," he calls out in Bennett's direction, his voice clipped by the shortness of his breath. "Enjoy the show?" comes the deadpan a moment later. "Not bad, kid." That's back to Phin. "Just a little unlucky with that kick."

"Hey, Butch," Phin says wryly, half-grin crooking his face. He pulls off a glove on his right hand, extending it to accept Holtz's hand-up. He's breathing hard as well, and will probably walk away with some bruises to his torso and back, though he doesn't look too badly damaged. "I need to work more on my hand-to-hand, but I can take a punch. I'm not actually a delicate china doll, name aside." His grin broadens a notch. "Besides, you looked like you needed a good fight with something other than the gym equipment."

Bennett's eyes are on Holtz's mouth, watching that sneer, until it fades and he offers Phin a hand up. Her lips purse slightly, but if she's thinking anything of it, she keeps her own counsel. "Of course," she answers instead, thoughtful expression blooming into a smile. "I always enjoy watching grown men go at it like neanderthals." The quip is delivered good-naturedly enough, and she pauses to take a swig of water from her bottle.

"Don't sell yourself too short, Lieutenant… I've been doin' this since before you were in short pants," Holtz replies dryly. He shrugs. "The bag's okay, but nothin' gets the blood pumpin' like a real fight, yeah?" He steps towards the edge of the mat, where a gym bag sits; he roots through it and pulls out a water bottle of his own, and he takes a quick, gulping swig. Bennett gets a snorting chuckle, his eyes glittering as his gaze shifts over to the Raptor captain. "Aim t' please," he deadpans in response.

"I live to entertain," Phin says, in a deadpan that matches Holtz's, heading over to the water station himself. He gets a cup, drinking it in one quick gulp, then pouring another. Which he sips slower. "I'm better at dodging punches than giving them. More exciting than the pool, though. I'll give it that."

Bennett laughs when Phin mentions the pool, and soldiers up to one of the bags with a look like she's trying to figure out where to start. "I avoid the pool when I can. I don't swim, I sink like a blubbering rock." Softer, and with a flash of those bright blue eyes when she briefly meets Holtz's gae. "I heard you and Vashti were having trouble." There is no accusation, merely a cautious question, like she's testing the proverbial waters.

Holtz grunts at Bennett. "Yeah, me too. Dolly and me were talkin' about that earlier, actually." It shouldn't be too surprising, considering that Tauron is — well, was — a dry planet. It's doubtful Holtz has even seen Orion's pool, much less tested the waters himself. The light-hearted expression on his face vanishes at the mention of Ygraine, though, and a cool mask slips over his features. "You might say that," he replies tonelessly.

"It's seriously not that hard to learn, at least basic dog paddling," Phin says. "And like I was telling Storm before, will come in handy if you ever have to bail over an ocean or something." He seemed content not to bring up Ygraine, except in the very oblique 'You looked like you needed something to punch' kind of way. But, when Bennett does it for him, he pipes up, "I'm sure she'd patch things with you if you apologized. I mean, even if it's not your fault. Women seem to like it when you say sorry for stuff you didn't actually do." He gives Bennett a look like he's expecting actual back-up on this point.

"You do not want to talk about it," St. Clair observes, unnecessarily. Bag steadied with her fingertips, she throws a few warmup jabs at it. Thwap, thwap, thwap. She isn't graceless, but it's pretty clear hitting things isn't something she does for fun. Phin's request for backup does not go unnoticed; she does think to add on the heels of that, "He's right, though, you know." Jab, jab, cross.

"No shit," Holtz mutters at Bennett's observation as he chucks his water bottle back into the bag, followed by the towel he'd been using before. His face remains coolly expressionless… at least, until Phin pipes up, that is. His head snaps up, nostrils flaring and eyes flashing malevolently as he scowls. "Apologize?" he thunders angrily, lips twisting into a snarl as his muscles abruptly tense. Clearly, the (overly?) proud Tauron doesn't seem to think he has much to apologize for.

"Or, y'know, you could…not do that," Phin says quickly, holding up a palm. He shrugs, and goes back to studiously not commenting on the Milkshake/Storm split. "Sorry, man. None of my business."

Bennett continues to soften up the bag she's picked for her target du jour, knuckles finding the bruised leather with a steady, mindless rhythm. This time it's a jab, jab, jab, cross, pivot and elbow routine that sets the bag to swinging slightly. "Tell me, Storm, do you actually enjoy being so.. angry all the time, or is it just a way to keep people at arm's reach?" The question seems genuine, though her faint smile and the airy tone of voice make her intentions unclear.

Holtz seems only slightly mollified by Phin's quick withdrawal, but he also doesn't continue shouting at the other man, so that's something. His neck cranes in Bennett's direction, his eyes narrowing at the question. There's silence for a moment, almost as if he's not quite sure how to answer, finally settling on a growled, "Either way, ain't much of your frakkin' business, yeah?"

Phin backs away from the general punching-things area, reclaiming the towel he'd tossed off before and draping it back across his bare shoulders. He sits down on a bench and puts his trainers back on, retreating entirely from this conversation. He's still listening, though.

Bennett stops sissy slapping her bag when Holtz addresses her directly, takes a slow breath, then turns to face the (much) bigger pilot calmly. The slight smile has faded to a near-imperceptible curve at one corner of her mouth, not really a smile at all. "It is, actually, when it affects one of mine." She speaks softly, not a shred of anger in her voice. "So I suggest you get this sorted out with Lieutenant Vashti sooner rather than later." A beat, blue eyes steady on the man. "Sir."

"There's nothin' to sort out," Holtz snaps, his harsh, rapid-fire accent belting the words out like shots from a machine gun as his arms fold crossly over his chest. "And from you, Captain, I need neither relationship advice or directions on how t' properly act like an officer." The explosive anger in his voice from before is gone, replaced by a cold, scalpel-like tone. "If Lieutenant Vashti is not capable of bein' similarly professional, that's not my frakking problem."

"I don't think she's…" Phin almost interjects into that last of Holtz's, but on second thought just snaps his mouth shut. "Whatever. Storm's right. Totally not our business. Sometimes it's better to just make a clean break with this kind of thing. Whatever. Feelings are hard. Sucks, dude." Phin McBride's thesis statement on relationships, the Cliff's Notes version.

"It was not advice," returns the raptor captain, silky smooth, and still with that hint of a smile where one ought not be. "It was a polite request." She holds her ground for a moment more, then looks to Phin finally, takes a steadying breath, and turns back to her bag. She is not above being shaken by the Tauran, certainly not. But slapping an inanimate object ineffectually seems to have lost its appeal, so she steps past it to fetch her water bottle and make to leave.

Holtz shoots a look over at Phin when he speaks, but says nothing. The cold stare switches back to Bennett a moment later, but still he stays silent, his eyebrows twitching at the ghost of a smile on her lips. Finally, he settles for just throwing his discarded towel back in his duffel bag as she moves to depart; with one last narrow-eyed glance in Phin's direction, he stonily follows suit.

Phin meets Holtz's gaze for a second as the man goes, shrugging, then drops his eyes and re-ties his shoes. To make sure the laces are extra secure.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License