LOG: Sarah and Doug (Backdated)
Jun. 24th, 2022 05:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsSarah shares the gym with Doug and he decides maybe this Sarah is okay too.
Having the energy and ability to go back to working out in the gym was one of Doug's biggest upsides to the nanites in his system counteracting the blood curse he'd dealt with for far too long prior to that. He'd been kind of a 'gym rat' before the curse, sometimes verging on spending too often keeping himself fit and trim. He wouldn't ever have quite the ridiculously cut figure he had been before, between the time lost to magic anemia, and approaching the midpoint of his thirties, but he could at least bulk back up a bit from the rail-thin shell he had been before. And thus, he was there in the well-stocked mansion weight room, in a form-fitting black tanktop and workout shorts, doing bicep curls and leg presses and all the other things designed to rebuild his core.
Sarah strode into the gym, a bag on one arm and a towel over her shoulder. She hadn't been back to the gym since that first disastrous night, and she thought it might be nice to explore a little on her own. Seeing the gym occupied, she hesitated. "I won't mess up your rep counting if I'm over here hitting the bag will I? I can come back."
Doug grunted through a couple last reps, then wiped his head with a towel. "No worries at all," he replied, a bit breathless. "I'm not the sort of person who needs complete privacy in the gym," he continued amicably. "I kinda prefer the white noise and knowing other people are around, honestly."
Sarah nodded, and dropped her bag on the floor next to the punching bag. "I'm Sarah," she said by way of introduction, stretching out on the mat nearby. "It's amazing to me that this place is so big I'm still meeting new people."
The name and the hint of bony protrusions here and there on her hands clued Doug in. At this point, he'd met enough close-but-still-different versions of people he'd known before for it to be...well, not old hat, but at least familiar enough to not be awkward. "Doug," he introduced himself in reply. "Resident tech dork, so if you have any issues with the networks, you know who to call." He looked around at the various machines and free weights, trying to decide what to work on next.
"I'm pretty useless with anything tech other than my phone," she chuckled, "which is currently in pieces on the sidewalk somewhere in New York City." She grabbed tape from her bag, and started wrapping her hands. "Broken on purpose, not because I'm bad with technology."
Doug could think of a few reasons why a person would break their phone on purpose, most of them revolving around not wanting to be found by someone. "Well, I can get you set up with a replacement," he offered. "One of the things I do a lot - ruggedized to withstand power use, way more secure than off-the-shelf stuff."
"I appreciate that." Pushing herself off the floor, she squared herself off in front of the punching bag. "But honestly, the only person who calls me is my dad. Or sometimes my half-brother. But until all this mess blows over, it's probably better if we don't have a way to have constant communication. I don't doubt your security, but I thought our stuff was secure too. And now I'm hiding here because all our safe houses are, well, not."
Doug shrugged. He could understand reticence after getting burned. "I get that, but it's also worth having a way to get in touch with people here if shit hits the fan." He paused the conversation for a few minutes as he worked his way through a set of reps, then picked it back up at the end as he was wiping the back of his neck with a towel. "Nothing's ever perfectly secure, but I have some advantages in that regard."
Sarah hit at the bag methodically, like she had done the routine so often she could almost hear her trainers calling out movements. "I'll keep that in mind if it's ever safe enough to leave the grounds."
"Fair." Doug could tell when it was time to stop pushing. He shook out his arms as he stood up from the station he'd finished using, rotating the wrist on the copper-and-black forearm. It was probably just a bit of phantom limb aches, given that the nanites didn't have tendons that could be stretched too far, but the subconscious habits of movement were still there.
"Besides," she smiled, throwing a cross punch at the bag with an easy swing, "if I don't have any technology, then you don't have to walk me through it like somebody's grandma."
Doug snorted as he moved over to a leg press station. "I've encountered some pretty savvy grandmas out there," he noted. He racked up his weights and set to it. He could definitely tell that this version of Sarah was even pricklier in some ways than the one he'd known before - betrayal would do that to you, after all. It made the 'getting to know you' dance a bit more challenging, though. "So what's your impression of the place so far?" he asked.
Sarah stopped for a moment, considering. "I feel like I have ended up in this place where everyone is just so wholesome. Like they're taking in strays and offering you food every time you turn around, and I swear to god the only person who has even been mildly shitty to me was told 'I'm disappointed in you.' and I think it worked?"
Doug couldn't help the bark of laughter at Sarah describing people in the mansion as 'wholesome'. It was a good thing he had already set down the weights so he didn't abruptly drop them. "I'm afraid to ask who you've met so far, with that kind of impression." He started a mental roll-call of the mansion residents. "I'll grant you there are some wholesome folks here, but the number of people who have asked if my new arm can be used as a vibrator -alone-..."
Sarah raised an eyebrow, but she didn't seem shocked. She had heard worse, although admittedly less creative. "Maybe they're all on their best behavior. Or I haven't met the right people yet. Either way I am simultaneously impressed and feel like I have ended up in some sort of alternate universe where everyone is nice."
"I mean..." Doug leaned back after a set of reps, arching his back in a stretch. "There's plenty of difference between 'nice' and 'wholesome'," he observed. "I can be plenty nice, but I am rarely wholesome." There was probably a riff on Patrick Swayze's line about being nice in there somewhere, but he couldn't quite find it. His mental Roldex kept turning, and he chuckled. "Granted, if you've met Arthur, I'll spot you 'wholesome'. That man is basically a golden retriever in person form."
"Arthur nearly killed me in a car chase, so 'wholesome' is not the word I would use to describe him. Though maybe 'drives like a golden retriever' is accurate." Sarah adjusted her wraps, and slowed her punches to focus on form. Left, right, cross, cross. Again. Left, Right...
Doug moved over to the free weights, grabbing a pair of ten-pound barbells. He'd need to work back up to things, and he'd probably never be in quite the same shape he was before the blood curse, but god was it nice to be partway into an extended workout that would have had him passed out from exhaustion before. "Being around people with luck powers in a life-threatening situation is one thing, but on a day to day basis he's just this absurdly earnest himbo sort."
Sarah seemed unconvinced, but this line of conversation wasn't going anywhere interesting. "Noted. I will attempt to have some self control and not shoot him the next time I see him. I assume this place frowns on murder in the hallways."
"Yep. We're also testing out 'no stabbing Wednesdays'," Doug quipped with an easy smile. "I'd say the people around here don't need murdering, but..." The memory of Laurie and how she had left put the lie to that, and Doug couldn't bring himself to be any less than honest about it with a person who had been his teammate once upon a universe.
"Dammit. I'm never going to make it here. Stabbing people is my love language." Sarah noted his hesitation, and decided not to press the issue. If he wanted to, he would tell her. Just maybe not twenty minutes after meeting her. "Everyone can need murdering under the right circumstances. You do what you have to."
That was exactly what the Sarah he'd known would have said. But rather than make Doug sad for the loss of what had been, it somehow told him that he'd get along well with this version too.
Having the energy and ability to go back to working out in the gym was one of Doug's biggest upsides to the nanites in his system counteracting the blood curse he'd dealt with for far too long prior to that. He'd been kind of a 'gym rat' before the curse, sometimes verging on spending too often keeping himself fit and trim. He wouldn't ever have quite the ridiculously cut figure he had been before, between the time lost to magic anemia, and approaching the midpoint of his thirties, but he could at least bulk back up a bit from the rail-thin shell he had been before. And thus, he was there in the well-stocked mansion weight room, in a form-fitting black tanktop and workout shorts, doing bicep curls and leg presses and all the other things designed to rebuild his core.
Sarah strode into the gym, a bag on one arm and a towel over her shoulder. She hadn't been back to the gym since that first disastrous night, and she thought it might be nice to explore a little on her own. Seeing the gym occupied, she hesitated. "I won't mess up your rep counting if I'm over here hitting the bag will I? I can come back."
Doug grunted through a couple last reps, then wiped his head with a towel. "No worries at all," he replied, a bit breathless. "I'm not the sort of person who needs complete privacy in the gym," he continued amicably. "I kinda prefer the white noise and knowing other people are around, honestly."
Sarah nodded, and dropped her bag on the floor next to the punching bag. "I'm Sarah," she said by way of introduction, stretching out on the mat nearby. "It's amazing to me that this place is so big I'm still meeting new people."
The name and the hint of bony protrusions here and there on her hands clued Doug in. At this point, he'd met enough close-but-still-different versions of people he'd known before for it to be...well, not old hat, but at least familiar enough to not be awkward. "Doug," he introduced himself in reply. "Resident tech dork, so if you have any issues with the networks, you know who to call." He looked around at the various machines and free weights, trying to decide what to work on next.
"I'm pretty useless with anything tech other than my phone," she chuckled, "which is currently in pieces on the sidewalk somewhere in New York City." She grabbed tape from her bag, and started wrapping her hands. "Broken on purpose, not because I'm bad with technology."
Doug could think of a few reasons why a person would break their phone on purpose, most of them revolving around not wanting to be found by someone. "Well, I can get you set up with a replacement," he offered. "One of the things I do a lot - ruggedized to withstand power use, way more secure than off-the-shelf stuff."
"I appreciate that." Pushing herself off the floor, she squared herself off in front of the punching bag. "But honestly, the only person who calls me is my dad. Or sometimes my half-brother. But until all this mess blows over, it's probably better if we don't have a way to have constant communication. I don't doubt your security, but I thought our stuff was secure too. And now I'm hiding here because all our safe houses are, well, not."
Doug shrugged. He could understand reticence after getting burned. "I get that, but it's also worth having a way to get in touch with people here if shit hits the fan." He paused the conversation for a few minutes as he worked his way through a set of reps, then picked it back up at the end as he was wiping the back of his neck with a towel. "Nothing's ever perfectly secure, but I have some advantages in that regard."
Sarah hit at the bag methodically, like she had done the routine so often she could almost hear her trainers calling out movements. "I'll keep that in mind if it's ever safe enough to leave the grounds."
"Fair." Doug could tell when it was time to stop pushing. He shook out his arms as he stood up from the station he'd finished using, rotating the wrist on the copper-and-black forearm. It was probably just a bit of phantom limb aches, given that the nanites didn't have tendons that could be stretched too far, but the subconscious habits of movement were still there.
"Besides," she smiled, throwing a cross punch at the bag with an easy swing, "if I don't have any technology, then you don't have to walk me through it like somebody's grandma."
Doug snorted as he moved over to a leg press station. "I've encountered some pretty savvy grandmas out there," he noted. He racked up his weights and set to it. He could definitely tell that this version of Sarah was even pricklier in some ways than the one he'd known before - betrayal would do that to you, after all. It made the 'getting to know you' dance a bit more challenging, though. "So what's your impression of the place so far?" he asked.
Sarah stopped for a moment, considering. "I feel like I have ended up in this place where everyone is just so wholesome. Like they're taking in strays and offering you food every time you turn around, and I swear to god the only person who has even been mildly shitty to me was told 'I'm disappointed in you.' and I think it worked?"
Doug couldn't help the bark of laughter at Sarah describing people in the mansion as 'wholesome'. It was a good thing he had already set down the weights so he didn't abruptly drop them. "I'm afraid to ask who you've met so far, with that kind of impression." He started a mental roll-call of the mansion residents. "I'll grant you there are some wholesome folks here, but the number of people who have asked if my new arm can be used as a vibrator -alone-..."
Sarah raised an eyebrow, but she didn't seem shocked. She had heard worse, although admittedly less creative. "Maybe they're all on their best behavior. Or I haven't met the right people yet. Either way I am simultaneously impressed and feel like I have ended up in some sort of alternate universe where everyone is nice."
"I mean..." Doug leaned back after a set of reps, arching his back in a stretch. "There's plenty of difference between 'nice' and 'wholesome'," he observed. "I can be plenty nice, but I am rarely wholesome." There was probably a riff on Patrick Swayze's line about being nice in there somewhere, but he couldn't quite find it. His mental Roldex kept turning, and he chuckled. "Granted, if you've met Arthur, I'll spot you 'wholesome'. That man is basically a golden retriever in person form."
"Arthur nearly killed me in a car chase, so 'wholesome' is not the word I would use to describe him. Though maybe 'drives like a golden retriever' is accurate." Sarah adjusted her wraps, and slowed her punches to focus on form. Left, right, cross, cross. Again. Left, Right...
Doug moved over to the free weights, grabbing a pair of ten-pound barbells. He'd need to work back up to things, and he'd probably never be in quite the same shape he was before the blood curse, but god was it nice to be partway into an extended workout that would have had him passed out from exhaustion before. "Being around people with luck powers in a life-threatening situation is one thing, but on a day to day basis he's just this absurdly earnest himbo sort."
Sarah seemed unconvinced, but this line of conversation wasn't going anywhere interesting. "Noted. I will attempt to have some self control and not shoot him the next time I see him. I assume this place frowns on murder in the hallways."
"Yep. We're also testing out 'no stabbing Wednesdays'," Doug quipped with an easy smile. "I'd say the people around here don't need murdering, but..." The memory of Laurie and how she had left put the lie to that, and Doug couldn't bring himself to be any less than honest about it with a person who had been his teammate once upon a universe.
"Dammit. I'm never going to make it here. Stabbing people is my love language." Sarah noted his hesitation, and decided not to press the issue. If he wanted to, he would tell her. Just maybe not twenty minutes after meeting her. "Everyone can need murdering under the right circumstances. You do what you have to."
That was exactly what the Sarah he'd known would have said. But rather than make Doug sad for the loss of what had been, it somehow told him that he'd get along well with this version too.
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Date: 2022-11-20 11:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-12-07 05:51 am (UTC)