[closed]

[indigo5a]

WHO: Shaw, Sam, Victor
WHERE: Gym, atrium
WHEN: Jan 8
WHAT: Making friends, maybe (the dogs will, at least)
WARNINGS: Probably nothing


[Sam] Man versus machine

The gym has its advantages, for sure. It's certainly more advanced than any other kind she's seen before on Earth. She's tried all the different equipment so far, even the anti-grav room. (She hasn't been back to it since, though ... it's not exactly the most pleasant sensation. Pain she can handle, but nausea is just annoying).

Today she's been throwing punches at the training dummy, which is looking rather worn down from the abuse. She wonders if maybe she can get Root to program a better dummy that might actually put up a fight. Better still would be a regular sparring partner who could withstand a beating (or give one, Shaw isn't picky).

She finishes up and drops herself onto a bench where she left her towel and water bottle. The towel gets draped around her neck as she uses the ends to wipe the sweat from her face. As she reaches for the water bottle, she notices a familiar face. You spend this much time in the gym, you become acquainted with the regulars. Their eyes meet. She gives a brief nod.


[Victor] Dogs in space

She walks Bear everyday, like clockwork. He needs the exercise of course, but he also seems to appreciate the routine. Being in space in unfamiliar territory has taken some shine off his coat in recent days. Maybe it's all this recycled air that keeps circulating around and round. The ship might look like it's acres wide, but it's still a confined place, shuttling through the universe of dead air.

Shaw showers him with gifts, like she did before. He's already got a nice studded collar and several chew toys of varying cuteness and utility. His gigantic doggie bed is stuffed with some kind of down, airy and way more comfortable than Shaw's own pillow. And today she's got bits of bacon in a bag to give him some encouragement. He still looks a little less than perky.

"Come on, big guy. Work with me, here. What do you want? And don't say Finch. I can't give you Finch."

Bear's ears perk up at the name.

"He's better off where he is, anyway," she says, regretting mentioning the name at all. Meanwhile, her own ears perk up as she hears someone approaching. It's been an uneventful few weeks since she arrived, but that doesn't mean she's forgotten how to stay alert for possible threats.

Comments

[genice]

"Whatever you want to show them, yes," he agrees, having already been living a fairly public life. He didn't have the same background for so much of this, but marketing himself? It'd been a necessity since his teen years. "More, depending on how kind or cruel your friends are." Or your fans. Certainly, there's always that element.

Still, it's something familiar, easy to miss. Especially since he did post a decent number of photos of his dog. Usually with him, but Makkachin is so cute. Who doesn't want to see him?

"I am — or was — an internationally competitive athlete. You get used to it after a while." Or you ignore it completely and feel like no one's watching you, if your name is Yuuri Katsuki.

[indigo5a]

From the sound of it, they've lived polar opposite lives. Shaw has faked her death and lived off the grid for some time now. At some point, going to great lengths to hide herself from a network of surveillance that spied on you everywhere. If you're not paranoid, you should be. Not that anyone knew about the system, except for a small handful.

Shaw wouldn't really know much about internationally known athletes. She considers Victor's physique and hazards a guess: "Gymnastics?"

[genice]

He smiles, honestly amused at the guess. He considers himself a bit tall for gymnastics; he's tall for figure skating, too, but not the tallest of those currently in competitive circuit. Which may be a blessing, all things told.

"Figure skating, actually. Gymnasts take my breath away with some of what they do." His admiration for anyone at the top of their field still comes through. Even when his attention slides back over to the dogs, watching Makkachin bowl over and wiggle around on his back, happy as can be.

[indigo5a]

Ice skating. Kind of like dancing, except over ice. Is it a sport? Is it artistic? Weird combination of both? It's one of the things Shaw will never quite understand. Pure athleticism she gets, but what's with the music and the sequins?

"A figure skater in space," she says with a brief snort. "I don't think they have a rink in this ship."

Though weirdly enough, it's big enough for one, or several.

[genice]

"Not yet," he says, letting one hand rest on his hip. The other comes up so he can hold a finger up in front of his face, winking. "It's still being built."

The figure skater in space absolutely, positively commissioned an ice skating rink to be built the first week he was here. Bizarrely enough, the administration had listened. In about three, four more ship-standard weeks, it would even be completed.