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Nate and Illyana talk over punching bags in the gym. Nate goes until his arm stops working properly, Illyana remembers how much she likes hitting things, and both are attempting to get back into shape. All this fitness, it's like a plague.



Oh, he'd missed this. Nathan hit the punching bag, grimacing a little at the jarring shock and the steadily building ache in his bad shoulder. He was having to take it more slowly than he'd like, but he didn't want to hurt himself. Moira would not be at all sympathetic.

Illyana paused at the door when she saw Nate, indecision stilling her for a few seconds; then she shook her head. She'd have to get used to having people around everywhere she went sooner or later, and she'd been sufficiently alone on the track a few minutes ago. "Hope you don't mind company," she called, more or less without meaning that she would leave if he did.

cablewriter: Nathan paused for a moment, glancing at the girl. "It's a big gym," he said easily, smiling briefly at her before he turned his attention back to the punching bag. A little faster, maybe. He was still well short of serious pain.

She nodded and headed for a bag hanging ten or twelve feet away from the man, testing the bag with a prod of her fingers to check for weight and swing. Hitting a slightly harder version of a pillow seemed odd, but then she supposed it made more sense than everyone beating on one another, or at least it was the kind of sense these people seemed to appreciate. She took a stance, wincing as her legs protested the unfamiliar movement; hit the bag a few times to warm up and got up on her toes to continue.

Nathan couldn't help but notice the way Illyana had looked at the bag, as if it were some foreign thing and she wasn't quite sure what to make of it. "You ought to at least wrap your hands," he advised, raising his hands to let her see what he meant. "Gloves are better if you haven't worked with a bag much before."

Illyana stopped abruptly at the sound of Nathan's voice, turning to look; the gloves surprised her. "For the knuckles?" she asked, after thinking about it for a moment. "Or just for general protection?"

"Both," Nathan said briskly, going over to get a smaller pair of gloves for her. "I generally just use the hand wraps, but my shoulder's still healing so I figured it would be best to cushion the impact a little." He found a pair that looked about right and brought them over. "These should fit, I think," he said.

"Right. Thanks." She took them, looking almost perplexed, and tried one on, tugging at it awkwardly; it fit. "I would've thought you'd just wrap them, if anything," she said, half to herself; confusion, even over stupid human things she obviously had no way of knowing, annoyed her.

"It depends on what you're doing, really," Nathan said, going back to his own bag. "You should take a little extra care until you're used to this, though. There's no need to rush."

"No, we're not due for another disaster for at least three weeks -- plenty of time," she said, with a half-smile that was mostly self-deprecating. "I'm just trying to get back to the point where I don't need to worry about it," she added, slipping on the other glove with much less difficulty.

"I've been trying to do the same," Nathan said amiably, hitting his bag solidly. "I've been dragging myself around for quite long enough. The gunshot wounds weren't that good an excuse."

"The sickness excuse wore quite thin as well," she agreed. She was getting the feel for the inanimate object idea; this might even help her develop some kind of recognisable technique. "And it's much better than sitting around remembering how I used to be able to do such-and-such, but can't anymore because I've been sitting around getting -- civilised."

"Mmm," Nathan said, half-amused, half-intrigued by her words. "This place demands a certain... lack of directness at times. I've had difficulties with it myself." He grimaced, putting a little more than he should have into the next punch. The pain jolted up through his arm and he gritted his teeth, then did it again.

"'Lack of directness' is a polite way to put it," she said dryly, going low and hard, and feeling her arms protest soundly. At least she'd sleep tonight. "But I usually leave it to people who like that sort of thing." Her tone indicated just what she thought of those people.

"And you don't," Nathan said, not needing the telepathy that inexplicably didn't work on the girl to see her meaning.

"Not particularly," she said cheerfully, her spirits improving considerably as she warmed up; this was much better than running. "But then I've been accused of being insensitive -- to put it indirectly."

"Generally, the accusation of people who want to be treated with kid gloves," Nathan said, slamming a fist - the one attached to the good arm, at least - into the bag. The flare of anger came accompanied with a flicker of telekinesis, and the bag rocked alarmingly, a bit of plaster dust raining from the ceiling as its moorings were strained.

The noise startled her, and Illyana paused to look up at the source, taking in the shaking bag and glancing at Nathan with one eyebrow raised. "You're sure you need all this practice?" she asked, eyes following the dust downward.

Nathan shook his head, aggravated at himself. "Positive," he said. "That was my telekinesis slipping again. I need to stop doing that." He lashed out with the other fist, more carefully. "Lack of sensitivity is highly underrated," he grumbled.

Illyana turned back, shrugging it off. "As it happens, I agree with you, but I've noticed there's quite a lot of fuss around here when people hear things they don't want to. Don't believe in coddling people, myself," she added, putting more weight behind her.

"Coddling people backfires," Nathan said clearly, setting up a steady rhythm. "Which is something I knew perfectly well before I got here, but for some reason it slipped my mind."

"Makes them lazy," Illyana agreed, heavily implying that laziness ranked right up with murder on her personal list of mortal sins. "And, dare I say, much too sensitive. Unrealistic." She'd forgotten how much she enjoyed this physical work; there was no heavy thought to it, just movement, and movement she could do. (Marginally, at the moment.)

Nathan made a noise of general agreement, and focused on the bag, letting Illyana do the same. A few minutes passed in comfortable silence save for the sound of fists hitting the bag, and finally Nathan took a step back, yanking his gloves off and rubbing at his shoulder. "What's your goal here?" he asked casually, then amended to make the question more specific as Illyana gave him a quick look. "With the interest in the punching bag and so forth, I mean."

"Easier than getting chased by demons," she said flippantly. Realising how this might sound, she amended hastily, "Not that that's an option, it's just that I used to be in much better shape, and I'd like to get back into it." She paused. "Partially boredom, too, I think. I'm not much used to sitting and reading, really."

Nathan nodded to himself, watching her for a few moments. "If you're looking for an entertaining way to get back into shape, I had an idea I was going to bounce off the Professor," he said, on impulse. Illyana's eyebrow went back up and he continued, explaining. "I've been climbing - rocks, ice, the occasional mountain - in my infrequent spare time for a lot of years now. There's some fairly decent rock climbing to be had in New England. I was going to see if there was any interest in trying it."

"Interesting," she said. "I hadn't realised people did it for sport, actually, but as it happens -- well, I've done some climbing in my time. On mountains and things." Dodging bad weather and ugly demons the whole way, she thought amusedly, but didn't think the image would be universally appreciated.

"It's good exercise," Nathan said easily. "With the promise of a decent view when you're done. There are worse ways to spend a spare afternoon."

"Definitely," Illyana agreed. There was definite interest in her face as she considered the concept. "Might be fun to try," she added, trying not to sound too non-commital.

"I'll have to see if I can arrange something," Nathan said, rather pleased but managing not to show it. "I figure that if we can have culturally-oriented field trips we could have physically-oriented ones as well." He smiled a bit wickedly. "Things are remarkably uncomplicated when you're hanging off the side of a cliff. I think it would be good for a number of people around here."

"I can see how that might be beneficial to some of these overcomplicated sensitive types," she said, grinning just a bit. "I think it's a good idea."

"Me, too," Nathan said, definitely tickled, and mentally composing an entry to the staff journal as he spoke. "Think I'll go bounce the idea, before I get distracted and forget." He was definitely done with the punching bag for the day, anyway. His arm had decided to stop working properly, which was aggravating. "I'll let you know when I have some details," he said, then smiled again. "Good talking to you, Illyana," he said, his voice casual but friendly. "And if you get tired of whaling on the bag, I'll probably be up to standing in as a substitute in a week or so."

That would be a very interesting match. She smiled. "I might take you up on that, if I get sick of the bag not fighting back," she said, shrugging in a sort of what-can-you-do way. "Have a good night, Mr Dayspring."