Dancing with Myself
Dancing with Myself
Summary: The CAG finds Rian late at night in the gym.
Date: PHD #216 OOC Time: Sat Nov 21 2009
Related Logs: None

This large room is large. The bulkheads are grey, like the rest of the ship, though the rubberized floor is a warm tan. A variety of blue mats, of varying thickness, are available to be pulled out for various purposes, though a huge mat in the back stays out to serve as as a sparring mat. A large red circle is taped down to mark the the boundaries of the ring.

Racks of free weights are bolted to the wall, and a few are bolted to the floor against the wall. Typical Nautilus style weight machines are available for use, as is a long bank of treadmills, a few step machines, and a couple of rowers. A few shelves of fresh folded white towels occupies a wall by the hatch, with a couple of bins below for used dirties. They are emptied often and washed. Thank your laundry personnel!

Tonight the gym is quiet, no can be seen within the large space and actually half of the overhead lights are turned off. Rian is in the back towards the free weights, in front of the tall mirrored wall that only has suffered a few cracks here and there. Clad in off duty uniform her hair still wet from her after dinner shower she moves around easily in the baggy cargos that happen to be one size too big, and tight tanks, that also happen to be one size too small. Free clothes, shouldn't complain, never has.

Upon closer inspection one can see a jump rope held in one hand as she nimbly jumps from one foot to the other. On her arm she wares a black band, inside is tucked a small digital player which chord reaches up to the small buds tucked in her ears. The marine seems to be dancing. Rocking out she shakes her head, damp hair flying about as she begins to play the electric guitar, closing her eyes and lunging forward. Her hand turns into a mic as she sings softly to herself, mostly whispers to the open air but in her head the rock roars. "… if you can't find me…" eyes closing with her intense performance.

The thing about quiet rooms, dark rooms, rooms with the lights turned down that've been abandoned for the night, is that someone.. someone is bound to find them. Rian isn't alone for long. The hatch creaks open, slivering pale fluorescent light across the cluttered deck before it slices shut again with a heavy clang. A slightly bulky figure is briefly outlined in the doorway: dark hair, fatigues, tank tops. Three steps and he halts. There's the sound of a flint being struck, and a flame crackles into existence briefly before fading to the soft glow of a cigarette's cherry.

Rian may have noticed all of this if she had not been killing her eardrums with tunes. She continues to dance and sing softly with the music, though her full rocking out seems to subside for a moment as the jump rope comes out. Taking a handle in each hand she jumps easily, even adding a few dancesteps between jumps. As the light from the hall shines she freezes however. Pulling the buds from her ear with one rough tug. Turning her back to the mirror she watches the backlit figure enter, saying nothing. Not sure exactly what to say. Instead she coughs into her hand that still holds the jumprope handle.

The interloper doesn't speak, either, for a while. He's probably also been caught by surprise, walking in here to find a marine playing rockstar with a jump rope. His eyes travel from her face, to the gym equipment in her hands, to her attire, and then back to her face again before dropping away. He pulls from his smoke and wanders in closer, easing down onto the edge of a free weight bench. "Good tune?" he asks, swinging his left leg across so he's straddling the thing backwards.

Rian's dark eyes follow the man as he walks closer, pale cheeks turning deep red. As he steps beneath the swinging neon light nearby her shoulders slump in relief, "oh it's just you." Turning to face him as he takes a seat on the bench she rubs her cheek roughly trying to hide her blush but still not making eye contact still. "I mean, if that was another Marine I would get my ass pounded and still never live it down." The headphones dangle from her arms as she moves closer to the pilot, "normally I'm not disturbed during my evening rehearsals. Marines train in the daytime, and you hardly see pilots here… I mean," mentally she switches back to her previous statement, a tad OCD when nervous. "I didn't mean it's /only/ you sir… just…" Arms are thrown up in the air, "I have no privacy anywhere."

Kai doesn't appear offended at being reduced to an 'only'. He's a pilot, it's probably just a fact of life. The neon lamp is bright enough to pick out the dampness in his hair, the bristle on his cheek, the blueness of his eyes. And it probably magnifies that blush of Rian's quite nicely. "You do, when they're on the graveyard shift," he explains mildly, smothering a smile by bringing the cig to his lips again for a pull that briefly hollows out his cheeks. "Privacy's a joke around here. Welcome to the Kharon, Private." Nope, he doesn't make any attempt to get up and leave. Rank has its privileges.

Rian sighs, slender shoulders slumping. "I know, I guess I have just been lucky lately. I guess I should cut out being a rock star, but if I play the music loud enough and if I dance long enough for the briefest of seconds I forget where I am. And feel better." Moving over to the bench she takes a seat with little grace, bumping into the pilot as she shuffles. Putting down the jump rope she feels down her pockets, pulling out a red lollipop. Wrapper off and its in her mouth before she looks past her shoulder at Marek, cheeks squishing in as she sucks, "As stupid as that all sounds, I hope your a man that can keep my secret safe." She pauses a moment, breathing easily in the second hand smoke, "I was wondering if you were able to help me out at all about that favour I asked you for a few weeks ago?"

There's a soft chuckle from the man; it barely registers at the corners of his eyes, and while not gravelly, there's a roughness in his voice that speaks of too much smoking and drinking and all-around abuse. "Maybe it's good to forget who we are, sometimes." Flick, flick, sends a column of hot sparks to the deck, which cool to ash by the time they hit. "Forget why we're here." His eyes lift halfway when she bumps him, then lower again as the wrapper's crumpled and the candy shoved into her mouth. "Sure, I'll keep your secret safe." Smoke pours from his nostrils in a steady stream which gradually abates. As for the favour, "Said I'd think about it."

Rian spins the candy in her mouth with the paper stick, the sound clicking agianst her teeth. Dark eyes droop slightly at the last, her bottom lip growing large in a slight pout. "Alright, you keep thinking about it." Rising from the bench nimble fingers tuck the hanging earphones back in the armpouch, "Just let me know if there is anything I can do for you in return." With that she takes the candy from her mouth, tongue and lips stained pink. "I guess I'll be going now," still on edge and nervous as she looks down to the pilot.

Kai nods slightly, takes another hit of his cigarette, and blows more smoke out his nose. It's a ritual, it's a routine, it's probably a comfort. "You don't owe me anything," he murmurs finally, as she's about to rise. "Assuming I can find you a bottle of whiskey. You don't owe me anything for it." Maybe there's nothing he needs, or maybe what he needs, she doesn't have; he doesn't elucidate.

Rian smiles to him, "well then I'd just be damned greatful." Looking to the hatch she runs one hand through her dark hair, combing it back, "I'm going to go hit my rack." She starts towards the door, pausing halfway to turn back, "Thanks again for being someone I can trust." Her eyes are earnest as she looks into his blue pools. After a long gaze she turns and hop runs to the door, pulling it wide and dissapearing beyond.

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