xp_logs | Sarah talks to Angelo in the gym

Angelo was in the gym, working out as he did most weeks. He'd started out wearing a sleeveless shirt, but that had been discarded when it got too sweaty, and was now lying in a heap to one side, as he continued with his vicious beating of a punchbag.

Sarah, dressed in her regular work-out clothes, pushed the door to the gym open with her hip, hands busy pulling her hair out of her face and into a ponytail. As the door closed behind her, she spotted Angelo giving the punching bag hell and waited for him to stop. "It's good for that, isn't it?"

Angelo glanced round at her on hearing her voice, and stepped back from the punchbag. "Yeah, it is. The gym here's really well-equipped."

She nodded, beginning to stretch out while they talked. "It keeps me occupied," she says with a grin. She's close enough, that when she looked at him, she could clearly see his scars. If it wasn't for her healing factor, she thinks, she'd look an awful lot like that. "It looks like you've had as rough a time as I've had."

Angelo blinked, then realised what she was talking about. "You could say that."

"You give them as much as they gave you?" She realized she doesn't know much about him, and the scars have taken her a bit by surprise.

"Depends which time you mean", Angelo answered. "I always tried. 'Cept this one." He indicated the crossed knives carved into his shoulder. "This one, I wanted."

She nodded, arms crossed across her chest as she spoke. "Those mean you belonged?"

Angelo nodded, just once. "Yep. Showed I was one of them, and that I was fit to be. They did it without painkillers, see."

"Ah, fun." It didn't really phase her much, she goes through something similar all the time. "I don't scar. Sometimes I wish I did, so I'd have proof of what I've been through."

Angelo nodded, understanding completely. "Yeah. Sometimes it's good to have something to remind you, too."

"I could point at my face and tell them how Samson threw me against the wall in a fight, and I caught every rough brick on the way down, or to my back and tell them about how Betsy went fucking crazy. But no scars, because I can't be entirely grotesque or something."

Angelo looked at her, hiding his sympathy. "Well, I get to point here" - to the nasty bullet exit wound on his back - "and tell them how I got shot trying to rob a liquor store and let it heal on its own 'cause I was scared to go to the hospital. Or to any of these" - indicating the slash and stab wounds strewn over his torso - "and tell one of those stories. But they wouldn't wanna hear it."

"No, you're right, they wouldn't. It's too much for them to understand." She grabbed a bone from her shoulder, pulling out a long club-like form. Swinging it a few times she shook her head. "It isn't something they like to think about."

Angelo held his hands out in front of him, looking at the burn scars there. "For these, I get sympathy. 'Cause I got them when someone tried to kill me for being a mutant. But the ones I got just from my life... Paige is the only one who even knows they're there, apart from you now."

"Which would you rather have? Sympathy or respect?" She said it with a sort of passing interest, like she knew which she would rather, and was testing him.

"Respect", he said without hesitation. "But not for being the idiot kid I was back then. For doing something worth it."

Sarah eyed him carefully, bone still in her hand. "And you haven't done anything that was 'worth it'?"

"No", he answered simply. "These scars would have got me respect back home. But it was kids' stuff - fighting over who got to call two or three blocks theirs. I'm not sure yet what would be worth it, but not that."

"It got you respect. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Angelo looked at her carefully. "It was, then. Still is... but not like that. It didn't mean anything... and it didn't last long when I turned out to be a mutant."

"Nothing does." She shrugged and cracked the bone in half. She threw both pieces at the wall, and if the wall hadn't been concrete, they'd have probably stuck. However, they just hit the wall and fell to the mat covered floor with a thud.

Angelo nodded. "I know, out there. But here, it might. That's what I want."

"I'm not holding my breath." She put her hands on her hips, and shrugged again.

"I'll find a way to get it. Something I can do that would get me respect worth the name." His eyes hardened with determination.

"'m sure you will. I on the other hand, am just fine with them being scared. I don't need anyone's respect as long as they're scared."

"You sure about that?" he asked. "Fear's all very well if it's all you can get. But I think you could do better than that."

She nodded. "It's what I'm good at."

Angelo shrugged. "Fair enough. Sounds lonely, though."

"Been lonely nearly all my life. That's not going to change _now_."

"It could", he said softly. "If you'd let it."

She shook her head, doing a very good job of _not_ looking directly at Angelo. "It fucks with everything. I think I'd rather scare people."

Angelo shrugged again, not especially bothered - yet - by her refusal to look at him. "Well, it's your life."

She nodded, still not really looking at him. "Yeah, it is. I'll go now so you can finish your workout. I can come back later."

"You don't have to", he said, suddenly worried that he was driving her away. "I don't mind you doing your workout at the same time."

"No thanks. I need a cigarette anyway." She picked up the broken bones by the wall, one in each hand, and turned to leave.

"Bye," Angelo called after her, before turning back to the punchbag.