Logs:Basic Instincts
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| RL Date: 4 August, 2015 |
| Who: Jo, H'vier |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After turns of skirting each other, Jo and H'vier finally measure each other up. |
| Where: Workout Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 6, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Lilah/Mentions, Tayte/Mentions, R'hin/Mentions, Yesia/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Aishani/Mentions, G'laer/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: It's Jo and H'vier in one scene. Expect language and all around raunchiness. |
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Workout Room, High Reaches Weyr
This larger sub-cavern - located not far from a tunnel accessing the
outside - has an arching ceiling and smooth-hewn walls to better
facilitate both safer workouts and better circulation for the Weyr's
residents, if the outside weather is inclement. Various implements are
stationed in ordered symmetry about the cavern, including free weights,
punching bags, and many others. Along the glow-lit walls are pegs for
holding clothing, and large mats hang from sturdier braces, allowing for
softer falls, while large covered bins and lockers hold smaller
necessities, such as boxing gloves, jump ropes, and more. The workout room is empty save for one inner caverns worker - a burly looking man working with the weights - and Jo. Minus the black leather she usually sports, she's sweaty in her white tank and loose pants with her scars on proud display. She has on the gloves and is working the punching bag with sharp jabs with her hair tied back from her face. When H'vier arrives, his attention is drawn to Jo by simple default, given the fact that there are no other women to look at. He watches the way she hits the bag while he makes his way to the bench with the barbell. "You don't look half bad," he offers as though it should be taken as some sort of compliment. There's a hard elbow to the bag before Jo picks up on H'vier's presence - or rather, his words. It's enough to have her landing another hit to the bag before she steps back to catch her breath and responds with, "I oughta." Not vain, this one. Panting through her words, she looks back at him finally with an arched brow. "Knock enough heads to know. H'vier." The name must be his greeting. Nodding his way as she plants a gloved hand against the bag, "Ya still talk with yer hands or yer pass that phase?" she asks now. "Not sure a person ever really gets past that phase," H'vier says as he pulls his shirt off, dropping it where he'll be laying back on the bench. But for now he starts to adjust the weights on the barbell. He's already been sweating, so it's most likely that a jog was his warmup before he came in. "Don't heal quite as fast as I used to, admittedly." Jo's not hiding the fact that she's staring when he pulls his shirt off. "Nah, they don'," she seems to confirm that on phases with an amused snort. "It's good in a clench when ya need to blow some steam. To get off when ya can't get off." She turns to lean her back against the bag, arms folding on his last as she quips, "Yeah, I bet. I'm surprised we never went a round. Both of us in this Weyr." "A round of blowing off steam or a round of getting off?" The request for clarification comes with the sort of grin that suggests either, or both, might be quite satisfying. Once H'vier finishes setting up the barbell, he straddles the bench and looks over at the bluerider, dark eyes straying downwards, then back up. "I think we could have a good time, one way or another." "I usually don' distinguish between the two," Jo is not apologetic in saying with a little innocent-looking shrug. Catching that look and the words that come with it, she pushes herself off the bag and stalks over towards the weights as she drawls out, "Hmm. Takes much to keep up with me, darlin'. Few men have the stamina to match me on the mats. Neither the bed. Been meanin' to pass by ya sometime," she adds as she reaches for a dropped towel on a nearby bench. "But, since Aishani's gone....well. Our paths haven' crossed much." "Mm," murmurs H'vier with a certain level of approval. He watches as Jo makes her way over to the weights, then starts to lean himself back, reaching up to the barbell so settle himself into the proper position. "Not sure our paths crossed much before Aishani, either," he notes as though he's not entirely sure why the dead goldrider factors into their paths at all. "But we do have these handy things called dragons. Not really supposed to be rolling around with anyone else, but I'm always willing to put my stamina to the test." "I know, at one point, ya were workin' with her," Jo clarifies, glancing his way as she dabs the towel over herself. "So was I." But the way she says it makes it sound like a moot point since she doesn't linger on the matter. "Not 'spose to be rollin' with anyone else," she echoes that one with curiosity. Either ya mean ya've let yerself get caught, or, yer meanin' that I punch better'n ya." Cockiness to the fore on that one, she does concede with a wry, "We do have dragons, but I ain' the busy one, Wingleader. How is that goin', by the way? Is it worth it?" Leading the wing. That clarification makes the bronzerider turn his head in the bluerider's direction, but he doesn't otherwise seem to give it much thought. "I mean I'm trying my best not to piss off a very attractive woman that I like quite a lot." H'vier almost sounds annoyed by the fact that he likes anyone enough to want to avoid pissing them off. "You might be faster, but you aren't better, darling." There's amusement in his voice, then he's lifting the barbell from its stays. He lets it drop slowly down toward his chest before he says, "It gives me a certain amount of freedom that I find useful." Then he's pushing the weight back up again with a grunt. "You must be keeping busy enough." With a toothy smile, "Good answer. I like that," Jo says to his first, nodding as she drapes the towel back over the bench and drops down on it as she reaches for one of the dumbells. "I've been told we're alike, us," she notes, idly. "We don' apologize for who we are. For the things we do. It rubs certain folks the wrong way 'round here. I imagine, yer past ain' so sunny like mine ain' so sunny. Makes us hard to please sort of folks, save for our baser instincts." She starts in on bicep curls as her dark gaze seeks him out before she states, "We should hang out more, darlin'. Even if ya think yer 'better' to my 'faster'. I'm lookin' to expand my friend base." There's a look and a slight smirk to her being busy - the answer there is obvious. "You have been, have you?" Perhaps H'vier hasn't heard the same thing from anyone. But he doesn't argue the point. "Suppose there are worse women to be compared to." It's practically complimentary. He listens to the rest while he finishes a few more lifts, chuckling in the wake of a grunt at the last comments. "I don't know that I've ever called a woman my friend. Closest I've gotten was G'laer." That's probably some commentary on the fact that the man is a greenrider with certain preferences for male companionship. "But we got along well enough when we did." "'Course there is," Jo is easy to say on comparisons, working off her arms with a pleased grin. On female friends, she sets the dumbells back down before she gets to her feet and says, "What do ya call women then?" she just has to ask. G'laer's name gets a snort of laughter from her as she steps by him as he works. She watches a few moments before quipping back, "Well. There's different levels of 'friend'. I tend to be more of the 'hands on' sort, with some." When he's done with his set, which gets more difficult to push back up by the end, H'vier returns the bar to the stays with his hands lingering around the metal. He glances over at the bluerider. "People I fuck, more often than not. I have a working relation with a few, I suppose." His wingriders, presumably. "Hands on how?" he has to ask. "A workin' relationship," Jo seems to find something amusing with that statement. "Those people ya fuck can't be yer friend?" she asks now, studying H'vier on his bench. "Is there an exception to the rule?" As for hands on, "People I fuck, more often than not," she deliberately borrows his words for her answer as she draws a finger lightly against the side of his wet abdomen. It's teasing. Taunting, maybe. Certainly the convict rider measuring him up. "Not that it's a requirement," she drops a bit sardonically. "But, I find I tend to learn what a person's really 'bout when they're not busy tryin' to show me who they want me to see. Folks let their guards down when they're satisfied." "Friends make things complicated. Fucking is fucking." After a moment of thought, he muses, "Suppose Oiana could be considered a friend." One of Iceberg's greenriders. "But she hasn't been too happy about us not fucking." See? Complicated. His muscles flex reflexively under Jo's unsolicited touch. He looks at her, hands still on the bar, but he doesn't offer any protest. "I've had a lot of practice keeping my guard up," he assures her. But he also has a habit of losing his temper, so he's probably just as likely to lose himself in other ways. "Most folks know what sort of animal I am," Jo notes on complications, that finger turning into a splayed palm against flexing muscles. "It's kept complications to a minimum. For me. Why aren' ya fuckin' Oiana? Got bored with her?" Somehow, such 'men' talk seems to flow comfortably around the bluerider, and there's no accusations or judgements in her tone. It's an easy flow, her questions and her studying - as if she's taking H'vier's measure in other ways. Eyes linger on the skin she touches, and so to his response on guards, "I've had others say those same words. Before." The knowing look she flicks up to his face is pointed but brief. "But I've good guard, too." "Lilah's not too interested in me enjoying other women. We had a nice long talk about it after Reisoth let on about me helping out the weyrling with her lack of experiences." There's something wry about the way he says it. H'vier's attention refocuses on the bar as he gets ready to start another set despite Jo's touch or the way she looks at him. It's probably better for him to avoid thinking about where touching could lead. "To be honest, I've never given much thought to fucking the people I want to know more about. Most've them are men." Brow lifts; Jo looks intrigued by something H'vier says, and it's likely the name he drops. "Yesia, was it?" she mentions the weyrling's name, her palm slides from him with a short but low chuckle. "I didn' realize even you could be caught, but a Weyrwoman is a good catch, darlin'. Not surprised to hear one of them's not the sharin' type." Turning and picking up the towel again, "I still think we should hang," she states that with a touch of lingering amusement. "I'd be interested in hearin' of yer experiences with runnin' Iceberg, among other things." "Aye, Yesia. She was a surprisingly good time." He says it without too much thought, moving on again to point out, "I was with Tayte for a good, long time. I seem to recall her wanting to fuck you through a fair portion of it." The bronzerider's words are somewhat stilted between the exertion of pushing up the weight of the barbell. "I have no problem with that. You can tell me how Aishani kept you busy." He'll be more forward about it, though he probably assumes her association was similar to his. This time it doesn't take him as long to put the bar back up, then sit up and lift his leg over the bench to turn toward her. By the look on her face, H'vier could probably tell that Jo so wants to asks for details, but when Tayte's name was brought up, "Tayte. Would'ja had approved of me havin' the same woman you were havin'?" she chooses to ask instead aloud, no guilt nor apology to be found on her face. "Are ya the sharin' type, H'vier? I seem to recall Tayte tellin' me she was with ya. Y'all lasted longer than I would've betted." She wraps the towel over the back of her neck, snorting a bit on Aishani as she murmurs back, "Perhaps I will, in time." "No," says H'vier without having to give it any thought at all. "Maybe if we'd all been together at the same time. But that's not how Tayte wanted you." And now it's kind of a non-issue, given that Tayte lives somewhere else with another man. And most of his kids. "You ever given any thought to switching up wings?" he adds curiously, changing the subject without worrying about how obvious it is. "A shame she couldn' see the big picture, then," Jo muses on lost opportunities. "She would've found how generous I can be to the both of ya." Hands grips the ends of the towel around her neck with a slight shrug to it - pasts long gone, after all. The question on wings does draw a curious look from her. "R'hin's been tryin' to poach me for Savannah for a long time now," she states in answer to that. "Haven' given leavin' Glacier any serious thought. The arrangement I got with Taikrin works for me. Folks in my wing don' ask questions 'bout where I'm off to half the time. But, I 'spose if the price was ever right in my favor..." Hands raise from the towel in an 'open air' gesture with a considerable look on her face. "I'm not an easy sell, though." "He'd suck you into whatever fucked up agenda he has, no doubt," H'vier says of the older bronzerider, clearly not much of a fan. Obviously his agenda is much less fucked up. According to him. "I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be. I just need to decide whether you're really worth it or not." He flashes the bluerider a grin that's more suggestive than it probably ought to be as he rises up to his feet, catching his shirt with one hand along the way. "Everyone's got an agenda, darlin'," Jo remarks, stepping away as he gets up. "Even you." On being worth it, there's the bold laughter of one whose ego is worn proudly before she moves to walk right past him, pausing in his personal space with her wiry frame just barely touching his as she answers, her gaze knowing with that smirk on her face, "If we're that similar, then ya already know the answer to that." She pauses and then turns, walking out with her towel and nod going towards the burly-looking man that was at his side of the weights this whole time, clearly watching the exchange with open amusement. "Catcha, Dov. Tomorrow," she calls out to him as she heads out, only sending belately over her shoulder towards, H'vier, "H'vier." "True enough," H'vier allows, still grinning, if somewhat more subdued, even with her in his personal space. He keeps his hands to himself, but there's likely some sense that he doesn't really want to. He'd much rather touch her. See, he has some self control. When she turns away, he watches her. Let's face it, she's giving him a pretty nice view, and he's not the sort of man to not take advantage of it. "Jo," he returns, waiting until she's gone, and perhaps even a few minutes after that, to continue with his routine. |
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