xp_logs | Hank, Haroun, Monday evening

Hank, still tense after the fight with Scott yesterday, heads into the gym to try to tire himself out enough to sleep at night-time. Haroun is there already, and the situation rapidly disintegrates into a surging sea of testosterone. Surprisingly, that turns out to be a good thing.

Hank ambled into the gym, wincing a little as he rolled his shoulders. Tense? Him? Only a lot... between the general tension in the mansion and his personal worries over the baby's impending birth and presence, his emotionally draining fight and understanding with Scott and the prospect of having to talk to the Professor, which always had certain undertones of being sent to the principal's office, at least when he had a problem... well. Some stretches - a lot of stretches - and then maybe a relaxing session of beating the hell out of the big punching bag. That would help.

Except that there was someone already there. Someone Hank tended to find... annoying, at the least, even when he wasn't feeling worn down and emotionally raw. He contemplated turning around and going straight back out... but no. He wasn't going to back down to Haroun. If the other man didn't like sharing the gym, he was free to go, of course. Setting down towel and waterbottle, Hank moved over to the mats to start stretching.

Haroun was in the weight room end of the Gym - not the free-weights, as he didn't have a spotter, but the air-piston driven weights. Dial in a resistance and go to town. And he was definitely going to town - pushing himself hard, working on expanding his strength even further. He finished out the set with an explosive exhalation of air, then he sat up to massage his aching pecs and biceps. He had noticed Hank's entry, but he wasn't about to start anything with the big blue walking carpet. Not yet, anyway.

Hank stretched for a while, then glanced over. More weights. Didn't the man ever get tired of them? Hank did a couple of weights sessions every week, but Haroun was all but married to the things. Hank couldn't help a tiny flare of resentment, looking at him - even at his most normal-looking, the best he'd managed was 'cute'. Haroun could have walked into any modelling agency in the country and walked out with a contract. He tried to remind himself that jealousy was foolish and achieved nothing. It didn't help much. Impulsively, he finished his stretches and, instead of heading for the bags, moved over to the second set of piston-driven weights... those designed for those with enhanced strength. Maybe it was juvenile, but he couldn't resist the urge to demonstrate the fact that he could be macho too, if he wanted...

Haroun kept an eye on Hank as he headed for the strength-augmented weight racks. OK, fine, rub it in, why didn't he? Hank liked to flaunt his physical gifts, Haroun had noticed. Walking on his hands and hanging from the ceiling and all of that nonsense. It was pathetic and sad - the man had an IQ that was at least half again as high as anyone else in the Mansion, and he was _wasting his time_ pumping iron?

Hank set the weights - three hundred and sixty pounds to start with, his own bodyweight - and sat down, flexing long, broad fingers. This would help... physical exertion was hard to come by, for him, so indulging in a little should help him relax. He glanced over at Haroun. Eye contact. Damn. Now he'd have to say something, or it'd be rude. "Hi." That wasn't enough... "How is Alison?" he asked, picking the first subject that came to mind. "I haven't seen her around much of late... both busy, I suspect."

"You could say that." Haroun said noncommittally. Why did the gorilla have to come down here to _this_ Gym while he was here to show off? "She's got quite a bit on her plate, with X-Men business and her classes and finals coming up. I imagine you're pretty busy as well, what with your research and writing papers and all that." he said, trying and mostly succeeding to keep any venom out of his voice. "Taking a little breather?"

"Trying to wind down," Hank admitted. "Between the tension in the mansion in general, finals, and my own personal difficulties of the moment..." He shrugged. "Exertion helps me to relax afterwards." He settled into the rhythm of the weights, enjoying the gentle pull on his muscles.

Haroun glanced at the weight setting. Three-sixty. Merciful Allah, he wasn't even _working hard_. Haroun couldn't at this time break the 300 mark, although it was a goal of his - to do it naturally, not all 'roided up like he was earlier in the year. "Personal difficulties? You must be referring to my harem wife Madelyn." he said with a grin, meaning it as a joke. "She can be quite the handfull. I'd be careful if I were you."

Hank tensed, his jaw clenching, although he managed to keep any other outward signs of temper under control. So far as he knew, Haroun and Madelyn were just friends - flirty, but friends. Had Haroun hoped for something else? He seemed devoted to Alison... but then, Madelyn was just as irresistible. "I've never had any particular yearning for meekness and compliance," he said rather coolly. "Madelyn's firey nature is part of her charm. But no... she doesn't constitute a difficulty. Everything is going... quite well, on that front."

Haroun grinned at Hank. "Good." he said, moving over to the stretching mats to work on his torso range-of-motion exercises. He hated them, but he had to work on keeping his midsection - the junction-point between man and machine - not only strong but flexible. "I guess not, since you've got all the meekness and compliance any woman could ask for." he said in between violent torso twists.

Hank gritted his teeth. Okay, now the man was just trying to bait him. "I have self-control," he corrected, not altering his smooth, steady pace with the weights. "And was taught that maintaining a pleasant demeanour was polite." Unlike Haroun, who took a positive delight in being rude.

Haroun nodded as he wrapped up his first set of stretches. "There's a pleasant demeanor, and then there's being a doormat." he pointed out, and then started his second set. "So..." he said after a short delay. "Tell me about you and Alison, back in the day. It's fairly obvious the two of you had a fling. I trust that fling is now over?"

Hank blinked, and then he remembered. One of the many things he'd said during his illness that he shouldn't have. "I wouldn't call it a fling," he said quietly. The relationship might be over now, but he wouldn't cheapen it to make Haroun feel more secure. "But our relationship ended quite some time ago, yes. I still care very much for Alison, but only as a dear friend."

Haroun made a noncommittal noise. "Alison likes strong, assertive men. I can see why you two didn't work out." he said, pouring salt into Hank's presumed wounds. "She doesn't take well to just being agreed with. She likes being challenged."

Hank scowled. "Especially intellectually," he said coolly. "With my background in physics, we were able to explore the nature of her powers in some depth, among other discussions... philosophical, musical, and so on. Had we not drifted apart due to our separate commitments..." He apologized silently to Alison - she probably wasn't going to be happy that he was talking about this, but he wasn't just going to sit there meekly and compliantly taking Haroun's needling. "I still regret hurting her. I'm glad she's happy now," he added sincerely. He might not like Haroun, but Alison deserved to be happy.

Haroun fought off the wince, but it was a close thing. "Alison and I have worked on some of the theoretical underpinnings of her power." he pointed out a touch heatedly. "It's a little outside my field, but not terribly so. It's fascinating, the things that are theoretically within her grasp. Right now we're working on selective sound-absorbing - eating one source while letting another one go. She's making wonderful progress." he said pleasantly.

"I'm delighted to hear it. Alison's powers are quite fascinating." Hank released the weights, taking a moment to catch his breath. The weight wasn't enough to wind him, but trying to control his temper was. "While we're on the subject, I trust that your... flirtation... with Madelyn is also over, now that you are both involved elsewhere," he said equally pleasantly, placing only the tiniest emphasis on 'both'.

Haroun quirked his eyebrow and then grinned. "That is, Hank, entirely up to her." he said with a laugh. "I'm not encouraging her, but she's my sparring partner as well as my flesh-and-blood doctor. She gets to see me with my shirt off probably more than is strictly necessary. She seems to like it, though." he said with another laugh. "But then again, she also seemed to like fighting with Gambit for a while there, so perhaps we shouldn't read too much into things, eh?"

He wasn't going to be able to work with the weights until he repaired the results of his hands tightening like that. Ignorning the crumpled metal for now, he moved over to the heaviest punching bag. "Madelyn is her own person, and what she does is up to her," he said, surprising himself with how level his voice was. Inside, jealousy gnawed at him. Of course she liked seeing Haroun with his shirt off. Who wouldn't, if they were interested in men at all? Normal proportions, flawless skin instead of fur. And Gambit... no. That was surely impossible.

"Of course, of course." he said, grabbing a jump-rope and starting in on an extended lengthy session. May as well work hand-eye-cyberwear coordination - it felt a little ragged lately. Possibly a glitch in the signal processor? If it was, jumprope would bring it out sure as anything. "You should be careful." he said over the skipping noise of his jumprope. "The weightlifting gear is not cheap."

"I built it, I can certainly repair it." Hank glared, then turned his attention to beating the hell out of the bag with neat, economical movements... since he couldn't do the same to Haroun. "I built or modified quite a lot of the machinery here in the Mansion. Of course, I'm very busy now... having you take over the care of the Blackbird, for example, has been quite useful. Given me time to work on my research." Haroun wanted to hand out low blows? Take that, you little substitute mechanic...

Haroun tried not to grind his teeth into chips and dust at the proflagate waste of funds that could go towards more important causes. Like keeping the school running, or expanding the student facilities. Not repairing little self-control slips. "And here I thought _Scott_ was the one responsible for the Blackbird before I got involved." he said. "I could definitely tell that she'd been wanting an aeronautical engineer to treat her right. She was good, I'm in the process of making her _great_." Hah! Insult his degree and his effectiveness, will he?

Hank ignored the boasting. Yes, Haroun had improved the 'bird... slightly. If Hank hadn't had anything better to do with his time, he could have done the same. "I'm sure you're doing fine work," he said, just the tiniest dismissive edge to his tone. "I'm so busy, especially lately... She deserves someone who can give her more of his attention than I could." As did Alison... he wondered if Haroun's obsessions with the plane, the weights, and so on let her have it.

"Same could be said of Madelyn, if you're _that_ busy." he commented drily around the skipping of his rope. He sped up his jumps, cyberwear so far synching up perfectly with his meat reactions. "I mean, really. If you're so booked up that you're neglecting such essentials as Blackbird maintenance, maybe you should look at scheduling some downtime. Take a breather."

"I'm not neglecting the Blackbird... she has you, now," Hank said mildly, pounding steadily on the bag, hitting harder now. Oh, how he wanted to swing at Haroun just at this moment. "And Madelyn and I are both busy, but we make time for each other. I accept that I'm not always the primary focus of her attention, just as she knows that she isn't always mine... mutual respect is so important in a relationship, don't you agree?"

"Oh, of course." he said, skipping his rope just that little bit faster, to bleed off some of the irritation. "You just will never catch me pencilling in Alison into a day-planner. I always find the time to treat her right." he said dismissively. Perhaps you weren't, Hank ol' buddy ol' pal. Perhaps you weren't.

"I've never used a day-planner in my life," Hank said firmly. Treat her right. Hmph. Hank knew what that phrase usually meant. "I have no difficulty balancing the personal with work." He slugged the bag and winced. He had to pull back, or he was going to break this too. Reluctantly he stepped away, stretching out his long arms. "You and Maddie are sparring partners, you said. She and I have sparred a few times ourselves. She's impressive." He wished she was here, and at the same time was glad she wasn't... he was, at the back of his mind, aware that he was being just as much of an insecure jerk as Haroun was, and it wasn't something he especially wanted her to see.

Haroun smiled at that. "Do you think so? I always thought she was at best a fair hand-to-hand combatant." he pointed out with a nasty little smile. He finished up his rope-jumping exercise, and then moved swiftly into a range-of-motion series of stretches. "FBI hand-to-hand training is so limited. If she had more time, I'd bring her up to speed."

"Oh, really?" Hank cocked an eyebrow at Haroun. "You think you're that much better?" A part of him knew that picking a fight with Haroun... especially right now... was a very, very bad idea. He ignored it. "Perhaps you would care to demonstrate? Since we're here and all warmed up..." He hadn't recieved quite the level of combat training that Haroun had, but he had had a great deal - and he had weight, size, strength, and speed on his side. He wasn't expecting it to be easy, but he did stand a decent chance of winning.

Haroun grinned ferally at Hank. "Really, Doctor McCoy. Where's your Hippocratic Oath now?" he teased. "I _know_ I'm that much better. I mean, I know I'm only partially organic and all that, but I am still a better fighter than anyone in this Mansion." he said flatly. "And while I'd love to go and prove it to you, I'm afraid that will have to wait for another time. Alison's waiting for me." he grinned lustily. "Perhaps tomorrow, if you can pry open some room in your oh-so-busy schedule?"

Hank nodded. "Of course," he said kindly. "If you don't feel up to it just now, that's quite all right." Haroun backing down was fine with him, but he wanted to be sure Haroun knew that was what he was doing. "Perhaps another time, when you're not... busy. " Scared, said his tone.

Oh, now _that_ was a clear challenge if he ever heard one. "You know, I do believe that I can spare the fifteen minutes that it will take for me to mop the floor with your fuzzy ass. Any particular rules of engagement you'd like to indulge in, or should I just have Medical prep a stretcher to carry you out in?"

"Sparring," Hank said coolly, moving onto the mats. "It would be highly irresponsible for either of us to intentionally inflict lasting injuries when the X-Men might be called upon at any moment. I trust you have sufficient self-control to restrain yourself." He wasnt' so far gone in macho posturing that he wanted an all-out fight which he'd probably lose. A simple sparring match, both holding back just enough, would do.

"Yes, it would look bad on my personnel jacket if I crippled you." he said, cracking his neck with a melodramatic head-rolling before stepping out onto the mat himself. "It's considered bad form."

Hank raised an eyebrow. "Not to mention being criminally culpable and morally wrong," he murmured. He sincerely hoped, for Alison's sake, that the man was simply rude and obnoxious on purpose, rather than truly unable to tell the difference between right and wrong. He set himself, and inclined his head politely. "Shall we?"

Haroun grinned at Hank, and then darted forward, using all of his speed and strength to attempt to paste one onto Hank's nose.

He never even came close.

Haroun's next conscious thought had to do with floors - and why he was on it. And why his face stung like that. And why he had blue fur in his nose. A kip-up brought him back to his feet, and now all the smiles and sarcasm were gone. Now this was _business_, and it was time to stop playing.

The first attack had been swift and overconfident... Haroun had probably, like many of Hank's opponents, assumed that a scientist and doctor wouldn't be a skilled fighter as well, especially since Hank usually hung back in a fight, to be ready to deal with wounded. That wouldn't happen again.

Although smacking the man in the face had been terribly cathartic.

He poised himself, surreptitously shifting his weight forward a little. Haroun came at him again, more carefully this time, but still fast - and Hank pivoted on one fist, moving his entire body its own width sideways in the blink of an eye. That gave him an excellent opportunity to hit Haroun solidly in the back - and, he realized an instant too late, gave Haroun an equally good opportunity to kick him in the stomach on his way past.

Haroun had good reflexes, well-trained and at the top of their game. But compared to Hank's speed, he was moving in slow-motion. Still, slow-motion or not, Haroun rode out the agonizing strike to his lower back, and retaliated with a nice hard kick to Hank's stomach before he lost it completely and flopped belly-first onto the mat. Rolling with the impact as much as he could, he scrambled to his feet and launched another attack, this time moving up close to try to nullify Hank's reach advantage. Let's see how he liked an elbow to the solar plexus.

Hank didn't like the blow to his solar plexus at all... he managed to move with it enough to keep from being entirely winded, but the breath was knocked out of him. Haroun was close enough that hitting him was problematic. Fortunately, being to reach the ground gave him another option. Reaching down behind Haroun, he snaked a hand between his ankles, grabbing one and flipping the man off his feet before he could react.

Haroun grinned at that and let the flight computer right him and settle him back on the ground. Then he came right back in, jabbing a left-right-left combo with his fists at Hank's throat and solar plexus, respectively.To attack anything else would be a waste of time, given Hank's thick muscle and mat of hair.

Hank was able to block both blows... just... but the one that hit his wrist was going to bruise. He managed a glancing blow to Haroun's stomach before backing up, giving himself some room. This was definitely a lot more difficult than sparring with Maddie... Haroun really was better, and it was harder to judge how much to hold back when the blows still had to land with some force, but not too much. "I'll concede that you're not bad," he said graciously.

"You're too kind." he snarled back, and then pressed his assault. He had to keep it in close, because to float outside was to invite disaster. Now it was time to get the legs involved - knee-strikes to Hank's solar plexus and chin this time, using just a little flick of his power to put some oomph behind it. See how he liked _that_ action.

This time the blow to the chin got through, and Hank winced and growled. While Haroun's feet were off the ground, he grabbed the smaller man's waistband and yanked downward, smacking him down flat on his back onto the mat. "Kindness is a virtue," he said grimly. "And not one that you care to practice, to my understanding."

"You'd be surprised." he said, a trifle thready as he fought to get his air back. But since he was on the ground at Hank's feet anyway - let's see how the big guy liked having his feet swept out from under him. "I do you no kindnesses by holding back." he said as he scythed his artificial legs through Hank's own, looking to upend the bigger man.

Hank grunted - that kick to the ankle had hurt - bouncing his weight onto one fist. Hah. Try to knock him down... only with all four limbs occupied, buddy. "I wasn't talking about fighting," he said grimly. "I was talking about your apparent personal mission to be as unpleasant as possible to everyone you meet." He kicked Haroun in the side.

Haroun folded around the kick. It hurt - a LOT - but he gamely stayed in the game, this time going for a grab. Let's see how the big ape liked being grappled - and how he liked having pressure put on his knee in directions that knee was never meant to bend. He didn't bother to waste the breath to rebut Hank's opinion. He was entitled to it, and it was none of Haroun's business.

Hank let out a soft growl, teeth clenching. That hurt... that REALLY hurt... and even after reaching down to force Haroun's hands away, the knee throbbed. He moved away again, gasping for breath, trying to avoid putting weight on the knee. "No taunts? No vicious personal slurs?" he asked between gasps. "I'm shocked."

Haroun just grinned. "Save the air for the fighting." he grunted out, and then pressed Hank on the same side as the knee he just stressed - capitalizing on the man's reduced mobility on that side. A kick to the ribs, followed up with a step up and a grab for the arm on that side should do the trick nicely. (repose)

Hank let Haroun grab his arm, then casually jerked it out of his grip and hit him across the forehead with it. "Suit yourself. Personally, I can manage both," he said cheerfully, tapping Haroun high on his right side with a held-back but still painful punch.

Haroun saw stars again, and it took precious seconds to clear them and come back to full reality. Bastard hit like a freight train. Time to end this, one way or the other. He had taken _far too many_ hits and not delivered enough of his own. With a power-assisted leap forward, Haroun used the speed and grace of the machine to try to put some hurt on Hank. One foot went for the hooking kick to the side of Hank's head, while the other one did the same thing from the other side. With any luck, he could leverage those into a body-flip as well.

Hank saw a lot of stars himself, and to his outrage and embarrassment, found himself hitting the mat in turn. Damn. DAMN. Getting overconfident. He couldn't dodge the first blow to the solar plexus, but managed to roll away from the one to his head - which had been hit enough for the last few seconds - staggering to his feet, wheezing. Entirely without realizing it, he pulled his lips back in a snarl, showing a lot of sharp teeth. Just try that again, c'mon...

Haroun flipped back to his feet and grinned at Hank. "For an academic, you're not bad at this. Of course, your multiple gifts might have something to do with it. Remind me to shoot you a note sometime tomorrow - if I can find the time in your schedule, I'd like to have you sit in on one of my hand-to-hand classes with the trainees. See what it's like to fight a physical augment who is -fast-."

"I'd be delighted." Hank swung at Haroun again, a little harder this time, and growled when Haroun's dodge meant he barely clipped the side of the other man's head. "I'm sure it would be instructive for them."

"Good. Because I think we're just about done here." he said, but as he spoke he took an opening that he saw and delivered a nice shot to the side of Hank's knee - the same knee that he had applied pressure to a little earlier.

Hank roared in agony. That hurt, it hurt a LOT, and he reacted instinctively, backhanding Haroun in the chest with almost all his strength. Later, he would realize that the only reason he hadn't shattered Haroun's ribs was that the man was just off-balance enough from the kick to be knocked backwards towards the wall.

Haroun blacked out on impact for a few seconds. He came to with a full-body ache, and the cyberwear was complaining about the impact it had just taken. Apparently the big man had been holding back more than Haroun had thought he was. He wouldn't make that mistake again, that's for sure. "Ow." he said, picking himself up off the floor and checking for anything broken, cracked, or permanently damaged.

Hank took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he said, realizing guiltily just how far he'd let things go. He'd lost his temper. He tried so hard not to do that... "Are you all right?"

Haroun shook off the apology. "Don't apologize. Nothing's broken, and when you spar you should expect to hurt afterwords. I think I'll have a date with my tub for a nice long soak. Got a helluva punch, Hank." he said admiringly. "How's the knee?"

Hank put his weight on it, and winced. "Painful. And I, at least, am not used to expecting to hurt after a sparring session." He smiled ruefully. "I'm so much stronger than almost everyone here - and certainly everyone I've sparred with - that I have to hold back to touch-sparring. If I want a real workout, I usually use the danger-room." He huffed out a rueful breath. "If I hadn't lost my temper, I would never have agreed to a real bout. But you were being exceptionally irritating." He grinned suddenly. "OF course, so was I."

Haroun laughed. "Good. Allah knows I was trying." he said. "I wanted to take your measure, to see what sort of a man you were. Madelyn is a good friend of mine, and I don't think I could let myself tie herself to just anyone. Even a just anyone with multiple advanced degrees." he said with a smile. "Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go soak these ribs and then go see what sort of a mood Alison's in." he grinned.

Hank shook his head. "When she finds out we were fighting? Bad. Especially when she finds out why. Ditto for Madelyn - it's bad enough that we decided to beat each other up. That it was over them will make them very, very cross with us." He smiled ruefully. "Our only hope is that if we confess all immediately, it will shorten the time until we're forgiven." He paused and raised an eyebrow. "Still think I'm meek and compliant?"

"Yes, but at least you've got some steel in your spine." he said with a grin. "I doubt we'll ever be friends, but I'm coming closer to respecting you now. If Alison chooses to get upset, that's her business. I'm walking out of this Gym with no regrets. Hell, I'm looking forward to the next time! Got to keep my skills sharp, and sparring you is going to be a good way to make that happen."

"I did NOT agree to repeat this little experiment," Hank said, but he smiled. "My... meekness, is largely a result of knowing how much damage I can do when I lose my temper," he admitted. "I have a bad temper, and the bestial body isn't without certain instincts. If I'd lashed out at someone less strong - or less off-balance - than you, I could have killed them." His smile turned rueful. "I'd rather be a doormat than really hurt someone... and I could."

Haroun thought about that for a second, and then nodded. "Fair enough." he said with a nod of respect. "Good night, Hank. Tell Maddy I said hello."

"You can tell her yourself when you come down to the medlab. You lost consciousness... only for a few seconds, but you'll have to be examined." Hank grinned ruefully. "As will I. Would you like to have her yell at you first, or should I make a sacrificial lamb of myself since I'm the one who threw down the challenge?"

Haroun waved that off. "I'm fine. Trust me. If I develop a problem, Medlab will be the first call I make. And Alison's cleared in basic cybernetic maintenance. I'm going to go soak and then I'm going to bed. I'm an adult now, I made my own bed and I'll sleep in it." he said with a grin, and with one stop to grab his metal-band-sticker-encrusted Medkit and his water bottle, he walked out the door.

"Just tell her you hit your head and to call someone if you pass out." Hank called after him, and shook his head. As hard as he knew Haroun's head was, he wasn't really worried. "And... what the hell, let discretion be the part of valour. I'm a doctor, I know I'm fine. Bruised, but fine." He'd let Maddie know how stupid he'd been in the morning. And he really did have to make that appointment to speak to Charles.