PHD 270: Parting Shots
PHD 270: Parting Shots
Summary: Eddie and Harrison meet in the gym.
Date: PHD 270 (1-13-10)
Related Logs: Uh. There's some somewhere. I think.


One of the punching bags is receiving quite a beating this morning. Isaiah Harrison is working it over, tape wrapped around his hands as he pounds away in a steady rhythm of flesh thudding against bag. It's apparently really quite hypnotic for him, as the distance in his gaze tells that he's not really here at the moment.

Dressed for a self-inflicted pounding in the gym, Eddie's in sweats and sneakers, and a large NAVY t-shirt that has dark stains on it. To fit the shirt more to her frame, the material is gathered over her abdomen and knotted at her spine, exposing a bit of scarred tummy, but that's unavoidable now a days. She avoids the center of the room, covered in mats, skirting around which takes her near the punching bags. "Exile." She says to the familiar face.

"Mooner," he replies, his rhythm stuttering for a moment before he picks it back up. He doesn't offer much more than that, but the shirt gets an odd look, followed by a look up and down her frame to make sure that she's not been losing any precious bodily fluids.

Eddie follows his gaze down to the shirt she's wearing, and she plucks at the material covering her chest. "Sorry you won't be getting your shirt back. But your sweat pants are washed and folded on your bunk." She sneers just a hint, "Gods I hate laundry." Is added as an aside. Then, "If you're hurting for digs, I can pinch another shirt for you from some where else." She glances around, spying a roll of tape that she just helps herself to.

Harrison is quiet for a moment, stilling his fists of fury and wrapping his arms around his bag to stop its swinging. "Thanks," he replies after a moment of just considering her. It's fairly obvious that he doesn't know what to say beyond that.

"Man of little words. You and Jupiter would get along." Mooner says with a smirk as she goes through the motions of taping her knuckles with a long strand of the white adhesive strips. "Get things worked out with Nikos?" If he's not going to make conversation, she will. Dancing around the subject will get them no where.

"Oh, I suppose so," Isaiah grumbles as he turns back to his bag. "Seeing as how it's hard to be a wing to someone you're not talking to, yeah, I don't think there was any other choice." He taps the bag twice, then slams a fist into it with a *WHAM*.

When she's done with her hands, Eddie steps up behind the bag he's assailing. She lends her weight to its stability, putting her shoulder behind the bag and bracing her feet. "And now she's moved on to wanting to eat me alive. Progress. What about you?"

Harrison looks around the bag, giving it a few more good, solid hits. "I don't want to eat you alive."

Eddie pinches her lips, trying to fight back the smile that threatens at that answer, obviously spinning it some way in her head to make that an entirely inappropriate statement. The hits he delivers, though, knock the expression away. "Do you regret it?"

"I'd have stopped you if I thought I would, and I still don't. Why should I? She's *not* my girlfriend," Isaiah replies with a definitely sour expression of his own — although there was mischief about him until she asked if he had any regrets. He knew what he was saying, alright.

"She's not your girlfriend." Eddie repeats. "But by dropping one little comment at the Sim games the other night, and Iggy's reaction I can tell there's some sort of confusion still lingering around there." She straightens a bit, as his blows have slacked off. "And I'm just not going to get into the middle of it."
"You have to do what's right for you," Isaiah replies as he gives the bag another good whack, then lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "I wouldn't want you to do anything different."

Eddie gives a little chuck of laughter. "Man. You have no fight in you." She shakes her head ruefully. "No wonder Nikos doesn't know what leg you guys stand on. You just wait for things to fall in your lap, like random Jigs that like the way you smell." A pause as she hunkers back down behind the bag. "Alright, show me what you got, Wonderbread."

"What's there to fight for? In this case, no matter *what* I choose to do, shit will be stirred. That's kinda anathema to wanting to stay below the radar, don't you think?" Apparently she's touched a nerve, because the next few blows come in fast and furious.

Eddie is nothing if not amused when his blows come harder. "That's the 'anathema' of a pussy." She uses the word as if she's not quite sure what it means, but she gets the drift.

There's a few moments where he punches away, never quite finding the rhythm that he once had. "You are what you eat," he finally mutters at her, eyes narrowed. "I respect you. I respect your choices for you. Did you expect me to club you over the head and drag you back to my cave? Me man, you woman." A beat. "I'm not ever certain what the frak went wrong. You were all good, and in three seconds… it was over. Just like that."

Eddie steps away from the bag, just holding it with her hands at the end. "Because I saw in your eyes what you can't see. Indifference. I'd rather chalk things up to a one night stand, then start a relationship off without any conviction." She tells him carefully, picking her words so they don't sound contrived or flippant. She's actually thought about this, and is expressing it, instead of her usual gusto of just tossing things out for show. "Because I don't…do…relationships."

Harrison crosses his arms over his chest, his frown lessening somewhat. "You'd rather not start a relationship because I seemed indifferent, or because you don't do them?"

Eddie seems to consider that for a moment, her lips skewing slightly to the side, "Guess I'd rather not take the chance. Rather be known as a fly by night kinda gal, then one who gets dumped a few months down the road because the guy suddenly realizes 'oh yeah, I am secretly in love with my wingman'." She offers her hand around the bag, "Friends?"

Harrison eyes her hand warily for a moment. "I don't know. There's still this whole matter of you calling me a pussy to settle," he grumbles, even though there's an element of humor to his voice.

Eddie tsks. "You admitted you were one, with that 'you are what you eat' comment. I've been absolved of that sin." Her hand curls, fingers into her palm, leaving her knuckles for him to bump in a last chance show of good will.

"It was a metaphor… or an innuendo. Whichever sounds better," Isaiah replies before he bumps fists with her. "Friends." He does seem somewhat disappointed, but apparently he's mostly okay.

Eddie smiles, the expression lopsided on her features. "Don't get all puppy dogged in the eyes there. We'll be fine. And ya know, if we should find ourselves in the same storage closet on the odd occasion…" Eddie lets that drift off with a twinkle in her eyes. "But just know, I feel I've earned the right to make awkward comments in mixed company. And be forewarned, I'm going to steal your cologne."

Oh, that earns a glare. "Do you know how expensive that shit was *before* civilization as we know it came to an end?" Isaiah demands as he plants his hands on his hips. "Besides, it smells better on me."

Eddie lifts her chin up to new lofty heights. "Fine. But once a month, you have to come rub on my sheets. Deal?" She asks, her smirk probably indicating she isn't altogether serious about that request.

"Deal," he replies with a grin. "Maybe I'll get loaded up and get lost."

"There ya go." Eddie says, stepping away from the bag, and starting to peel the tape off her knuckles. She never did get around to that workout, but that was enough of a beating for any mortal man or woman. "See you around, Exile."

Harrison nods as he watches her step away, then turns his attention back to the bag. "Don't let it be too long, eh?" he asks quietly.

Eddie ducks her head, concentrating on her hands as she finds the nearest exit. "Sure thing." Muttered back.

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