Who: Marion and Gus. What: Gus keeps running into Marion. Not for the reasons he thinks. Where: Tower of Babylon Fitness When: Friday evening. Rating: PG-13 Status: Complete
After a record low, Gus was starting to feel better about things. Not amazing, but better, and he’d take small improvements where he could get them. And speaking of improvements - he was so far dragging his ass to the gym after work, even though all he wanted to do was be lazy and drink beers. Okay behavior for married men who weren’t trying to attract attention, but not okay for divorced, single men who were maybe thinking about getting back into the game. Possibly. He had never really tried before, if he was honest with himself. Gus was a big man, he was muscular, and he had a rock-solid jaw. Even if he didn’t take his shirt off, girls came to him. Shit, it had even worked that way with Francine.
After eighteen years of being off the market, however, not to mention a devastating divorce? His confidence was not especially high. And he didn’t even know if he was ready, or if he ever would be. What would he tell his kids, for one thing. And just because Francine was able to do it, didn’t mean he was built the same.
Whatever his issues were? He wanted to be in shape for if he decided to just get out there and probably get brushed off for being too fucking old to be dating anyone. Jesus Christ.
Gus was doing the treadmill today, and he could’ve kicked himself for not bringing his headphones. What good was the music on his phone if he couldn’t goddamn listen to it? This was why he was probably running so hard, to. Any effort to escape his thoughts.
With music pumping in his ears, it would’ve been more difficult to notice that he was being watched.
It didn’t come with the normal instinctive shiver; that built-in prey animal complex that disturbed the air around a person when most eyes were on them. The feeling was light and warm, like a child might feel when momma watched them do cartwheels across the yard.
In the mirrored wall in front of the treadmills, the wide windows of the complex opened up into the dark winter sky, an hour after sun-down, even though it wasn’t terribly late. In the reflection was the familiar flash of color and pale hair; Marion had stepped out from around the brick corner, and waved into the large room. At Gus’s back.
He’d ignored it at first, but Gus eventually did check things out in the reflection in front of him, and he very nearly stumbled in surprise. What in the--
If he didn’t know better (and he knew a lot better), he’d be convinced she was following him. Gus slowed his pace a bit and craned his head around to look at Marion properly, giving her a wave and a rather boyishly crooked smile.
“Hey, Marion!” he called out, wishing his voice wasn’t so damned loud. He definitely didn’t think she needed the gym, but he sure wouldn’t protest if she was going to be a regular. Shit, he’d come in more often.
Christ, he was embarrassed of himself right now.
She greeted his wave with her usual bright-eyed, chin tilting grin, then continued on across the walk toward the front door. Despite an environment where just about everyone came in with a bag or nylon pants and a ratty shirt or expensive gym gear, Marion had nothing of the sort. Just a sheep-skin coat against the cold, her tied-up moccasins, and all the color in between.
“It always smells so interesting in here,” she said, rounding in her slightly manic way around the machine he was currently occupying. She also shrugged off her coat and draped it over one arm, giving the place a long look around. It may’ve seemed flighty and without purpose, but Marion’s methods always had a plan behind them. That plan just seemed to be a mystery to most everyone around her.
Gus didn’t have to look down at himself to know his shirt was soaked through in all the right spots - the neckline, the pits, and his back. Great.
“Yeah,” he agreed, adjusting his treadmill to go at a pace where he could talk without faceplanting, “So, you joining up? Just looking? This is a great gym. Really good self-defense course going at the moment.”
Shut up shutup.
Marion’s blue eyes wandered back to him, her smile replenished without effort. When she spoke, her eyebrows had a tendency to bounce up into her hair, widening her eyes and making her expressions just that much richer. “Oh, I know! Ken’s a friend of mine. Very good at what he does.”
Casual as ever, Marion stepped back a bit to let another gym goer walk between her and Gus, likely on their way to the locker rooms. The elderly man’s arms were busy juggling a magazine, an out-dated iPod, a towel, and a plastic bottle of water - the cap from which jostled loose and started to fall. Marion caught it on the first bounce, and beamed at the man as she handed it back and sent him on his way.
“I’m not sure about the whole ‘exercising’ thing,” she continued on like nothing happened. “All that running, going nowhere?”
Gus filed away the Ken thing. Well, that would make sense. Two pretty people were ‘friends’. Uh huh. He raised an eyebrow at her reflexes, but didn’t think anything of it. Lucky catch, probably.
“Well, going running out there isn’t really a great idea,” Gus pointed out, “Come springtime, though, I only come in here for the weights.”
He eyeballed her getup, considered commenting, and decided it was probably pointless.
“Hey, I uh, wanted to thank you,” he said, “Two of the things you got me I ended up needing, so yeah. Thanks. Any lotto numbers come to you, let me know, all right? I wouldn’t mind owning a Seadoo for this summer.”
For the first time in the brief encounters he’d had with Marion, a little bit of the light in her eyes seemed to fade. It darkened the rest of her expression by fault, though she never truly stopped smiling. For only the quickest of moments, she looked genuinely saddened.
But it was gone just as quickly. That was Marion’s biggest obstacle, it seemed: sarcasm. She just didn’t seem to catch onto it very quickly.
“Just doin’ my job,” she said. “You look happier! --and more wet.” That last bit was obviously intended to bring out his crooked smile. Marion liked it a lot.
Although her brief fade alarmed him a little, she bounced back quickly. Gus couldn’t really guess at what he’d said, but obviously it wasn’t a big deal. And her comment got the exact result she wanted.
“Yeah, I’ve been feeling better,” Gus said, patting his stomach with a look of some remorse, “And I thought I’d get working on this winter weight before it gets out of control.”
She was so easy to talk to, and he wasn’t sure why. Gus just felt like she was completely without judgement, somehow. He didn’t think it was capable for a human being to be so easy going, but there she stood, in a flowy, colorful skirt.
“Not sure what you’re here for,” he very tentatively attempted to tease.
“To see you, Lovie,” Marion beamed, flashing a hint of very white teeth in her smile that also wrinkled the bridge of her nose. As always, her tone hovered far over boisterous and honesty, too far to wonder if she was telling god’s truth or being silly. She went on, anyway.
“And to touch base with Kenneth. We have a few projects going and its always good to stay on track. Like that!” And she pointed down at his feet, one of which was drifting close to the still, hard plastic edge of the machine every time it landed.
Gus had been sort of thrown by her first comment, so the rest didn’t register entirely until she pointed. He quickly righted his path and laughed, embarrassed.
“I swear, normally I can run and talk at the same time,” he said. Now he kept occasionally glancing down, to make sure he was staying on the treadmill, “So, projects? They secret or can you let me in on ‘em?”
He’d had a lot of things he’d wanted to talk to Marion about, or at least mention, but he was a little thrown by her sudden appearance at the gym. Because apparently she had business with Ken.
Maybe he’d talk to Ken later, if he could catch him between classes.
Slowly but surely, Marion’s smile started to tip closer to one cheek than the other. Her head listed toward one shoulder as well, and the fair skinned hand not supporting her coat flipped out in a teasing little point at him.
“I see how you are, Mister Police-Man,” she quipped, delightfully glib. “Now what if I was planning a surprise party? I’d be obligated to tell you all about it, and compromise that whole structure. Delicate as a French Souffle, that is.” That last part, of course, was complete teasing.
“All right, all right,” he held his hands up, still smiling, “I won’t pry.”
He wanted to, but he wouldn’t. She was completely disarming, and he wondered if she had any idea what she looked like when she did that head-tilt-smile thing. Probably. It was too perfect to have not been practised in a mirror.
“So when do you plan on fitting the gym into your schedule?” Gus asked, pausing to take a drink from his water bottle, “Around this time, or...?”
Gus was pretty sure he wasn’t going to ask for her number, but he could at least look forward to running into her.
Marion didn’t answer right away, just watched his face with soft, gentle contemplation; like she was piecing a puzzle together in her head. She understood the context of just about every question humans could come up with - there were nearly infinite motives, submotives, desires and fears all intricately strung together in a delicate, unique web for every thought they gave voice. Even more for the ones they didn’t.
Something about that last one really made her think. These were the times when the path ahead of someone was just a little too out of focus for her to understand.
In the end, she still wasn’t positive she’d gotten the whole picture, but some things were crystal clear. She addressed those with another bloomed smile.
“You’ll see me around,” she offered brightly.
“Great,” Gus said, “I’d like that. Like seeing you around, I mean.”
Well what else would he mean? Gus refused to believe he was that bad at this. It used to be as natural as breathing. And who said he was doing badly, anyway? She smiled like the sun breaking through the clouds.
Okay, that was taking it too far. It had officially been too long.
“I usually turn up right after my shift,” he continued, “Well, that’s the idea, anyway. Get back into the habit,” Gus gestured to an empty treadmill next to him and grinned, “Maybe you could go running with me.”
She raised both eyebrows, their corners seemingly tied to the corners of her mouth. Her eyes switched back and forth between him and the machine being indicated.
“You know how many fun and ironic cliche’s I can think of for this?” Even so, Marion hoisted her coat over the nearby magazine rack and climbed aboard the treadmill. She’d never been on one before, but the big red button in the center of the console that said ‘Quick Start’ seemed like a promising venture.
“Maybe this is what it feels like to be a hamsteeerrr--!” Her voice warbled when she hit the button and the ground moved out from her feet. She immediately caught her balance with an iron grip on the hand-bar, but chirped out a laugh right afterward.
“Whoa, easy!” Gus laughed. He’d started to reach out a hand, but she righted herself. Really, really good reflexes for an art teacher. She probably did yoga or something. That seemed like her scene.
“I think that’s two cliches,” he said, “The hamster wheel comparison and the near-miss starting it up. Pace yourself, Marion, or you’re going to run out of material.”
She was literally the only person he’d ever known to work out in a skirt.
“I could make a joke about having a race, if you wanted to take some of the pressure off.”
She sent him a quirky look, softened leather moccasins making virtually no noise as they traipsed over the belt. The motion itself had taken very little time to get used to - after all, she’d had a very long time to learn how to adapt to things quickly (an irony which made her lips twitch upward even further), but the activity was something that still threw her off.
“A race to what?” she asked, seemingly genuine.
“To win, obviously,” Gus said, and then the next part came out of his mouth before he could filter it, “If I win the race, I’ll buy you lunch. Fair warning, though. I was quarterback in high school and I’ve been running since boot camp.”
He’d kind of asked her out to lunch. Lunch was completely casual. Friends had lunch. He was still out of his mind, but he was feeling pretty confident anyway. It didn’t seem like there was anything he could say (aside from the Seadoo comment, oddly) that could wipe that smile off her face.
Again, Marion’s answer didn’t come spilling right out of her mouth, because she was still running the whole ‘race’ idea through her head, not making a connection that she very obviously should be making. It didn’t worry her, necessarily, just glibly reminded her that no matter how much practice she had, there was always something new to learn. She looked at him after that particular thought, when he lightly boasted his level of competition.
Pride was a sin, but never one she really enforced: personally, (as many other of her brothers and sisters thought) it should be better phrased. In many cases she could think of off the top of her head, highly glorified martyrs ended up the way they did because an infallible sense of pride.
Gus’s breed of pride would never harm anyone.
“Okay,” she answered with a smile that seemed both excited and humoring. “But isn’t it hard to win when we have no finish line?”
Gus blinked. Oh... kay, well, sure. Maybe he hadn’t been obvious enough. He’d sort of wedged some unnecessary bragging in there that would’ve been charming in his twenties. It probably sounded a little desperate in his forties.
“True. We could just skip the race,” he said, attempting to recover, “And I could take you out to lunch anyway.”
“No, no no... I’m excited about this race, first,” she chuckled happily, pale waves and feathers bouncing along with her gait. Her tone made it clear she was having fun with the idea, now, and possibly goading him into a certain mindset. Or maybe she was teasing him.
The truth was a little of both.
“How about this: we race. Then, we lunch.” She grinned his way, then continued. “That way everything is for fun.”
“Uh, sure,” Gus said. He honestly wasn’t sure what the hell just happened. Maybe it wasn’t done happening yet? “Race first.”
He glanced down at the controls for the treadmill, wondering if he was about to get his ass handed to him. He’d been about halfway through his run when she’d showed up, and he’d been pushing hard.
Gus promised himself that he’d lose the ‘race’ before he puked.
“I’ve got a confession, Marion,” he said, “I have no idea how you race on a treadmill. Ideas?” he laughed, “I guess we could see who can run flat out for longest.”
A quick burst of her laughter immediately followed that idea. No. Gus would collapse and she’d be running for days. That wasn’t going to work.
“Need I remind you, Lovie - you suggested this first.” She bobbed her brows at him, but was still grinning. She pointed at the screen on the console in front of her, that made little more sense to her than the first monotone lights and movement of early computers did. “Maybe something to do with this?”
“Marion,” he said, raising his eyebrows back, “I haven’t asked anyone out in about twenty years, so I’m a little rusty. But that’s pretty much the crux of the bad joke.”
He glanced down at his own console but didn’t pay it much mind. It was actually easy to just come out and say it. He didn’t even feel all weirdly screwed up and nervous about it. Well, maybe a little, since it was possible she was politely dodging the whole thing to spare his feelings.
Gus didn’t really get that from her, though.
Quite the opposite, really. Marion was thrown, and her (pleasantly) surprised look easily showed it.
She’d missed the joke completely. She’d missed the connotations of the ‘prize’, also completely. It was so rare in her extremely long existence that something caught her so out of the blue, that Marion nearly glittered with delight. Her eyes caught the filtered lights above them like icicles would catch the dawn, and laughter was in her voice.
“I totally knew that.”
The quips of teenagers came in very handy sometimes.
“So is that a yes or....?” Gus couldn’t help but smile back at her when she lit up like that. He also had to make sure they were on the same page. Gus really had no idea if it would even go anywhere, but shit, he was allowed to at least try.
“Of course it’s a yes,” she answered without missing a beat. There was that depth behind her eyes again, something that she was working through as meticulously as ever. With every interaction and relationship she created with humans, there were bouts of absolute clarity along side pieces of haze. Free Will made fate a very uncertain science, even for one such as her. Marion had learned long ago that when faced with the unknown, her guard would have to be at it’s strongest. Especially with her personal Charges.
Angus Marshal just happened to be the Charge dropped in the middle of what could be the End. Of course the path was unclear.
“Marion, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day,” he smiled brilliantly at her, “What do you think about tomorrow? What’s a good time?”
Well, holy shit. All right. Having lunch with the New Age art teacher. That was a heckuva step up from moping around in his garage all day, although Daisy had certainly benefited from said moping.
“How about lunch time? Noon works,” she chuckled back at him, though her attention split back to the treadmill computer, looking for the ‘Quick Start’ button’s counterpart. It was decidedly smaller, and a little hidden off to the right - a curious thing, she thought briefly. Marion tapped the Stop button, fully expecting the belt to do just that.
It didn’t. It slowed, and she half-stumbled, snickering again when she found her footing. “This is way more complicated than running in a hamster wheel.”
“Noon, sure,” Gus winced as she stumbled again, but it was an amused expression, “If you survive that long. I’ll give you a tour of the controls just so my plans don’t wind up falling through.”
He leaned over a little and pointed to the buttons, explaining the functions of each in turn. That was easy enough to do without thinking about it too hard, which was good, since a majority of his brain was pretty pleased that he’d managed to ask someone out without it turning into some horrifying disaster. He’d just built it up to the point where it had become stifling, and now that he’d done it... he felt a little silly for getting so twisted up in the first place.
“Easy, right?” he asked, “Maybe not hamster-wheel easy, but not bad.”
Marion processed the new information without effort, but still snickered happily, watching the whole thing with a sense of awed humor. Seriously; some things mankind came up with just completely baffled her. Like a machine for walking that you have to walk to to use. It was like the ‘portable step’ that had a brief period of popularity about thirty years ago.
She adored creativity, she just wasn’t sure things like that qualified.
“No, not bad, but I think I’ll stick to ground that doesn’t move,” she said pleasantly. When she dismounted the thing, her legs had a distinct ‘wrong’ feeling to them that was short lived, but weird.
Gus was laughing as he stepped off his own machine, albeit a bit more breathless. He grabbed the towel that he’d laid nearby and patted his face and neck off a bit, shaking his head at her.
“Fair enough,” he said, “I think there are some aerobic’s classes. Or the stairstepper. I mean, if cardio is your game.”
He paused, pretty sure he didn’t care what she did, so long as she showed up regularly. Hell, he wouldn’t blink if she just hopped around the gym on one foot for an hour. On to more pressing matters.
“So where do you want to meet? You have a favorite place yet?”
Marion moved to gather her coat from the magazine rack, again folding it over her arm. The question had her filtering possible lunch places through her head, which also pushed her lips together in a purse she didn’t realize she was doing. Meanwhile, her eyes did another quick, but thorough sweep of the large room. Each individual taken in and filed away. As she did this, her free hand hung loose and unassuming on the knitted bag that rested on her hip.
“Nope, no favorite yet,” she beamed back at him, replacing pursed lips for a smile. “I’ll meet you in front of the supermarket, and we can go from there?”
“Sure, sounds great,” Gus said. He hadn’t stopped smiling for awhile- he was pretty sure his face hurt by now, “It was really nice running into you Marion. I better hit the showers before they condemn the building, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He paused and added as he picked up his gym bag, “Can I get your number?”
Number. It took Marion half a second to properly categorize that word in it’s context. Even though she’d been earth-side for quite a while, before coming to Babylon, her charges weren’t often in a position to own a phone. The need for her to carry one around had been even less frequent, but Babylon was a bit of a different playing field. Many of the rules had changed.
“Uh,yes... Hang on,” she said, dipping into her bag, her hand bypassing the little enchanted object that became a celestially forged weapon when she called upon it. Out came a prepaid cell phone, which she had obviously allowed some young person to doodle on in Sharpies and White-Out. She turned it over in her hand, reading the set of digits written there. Obviously, she hadn’t used it much.
Gus wasn’t too surprised that the hippy art teacher wasn’t big on cellphones. Probably not green enough or something. He just entered her number into his phone, and with her permission, he entered his (home and cell - he was being thorough!) own numbers into her pre-paid.
“Call me any time,” he said as he handed it back, winking, “But if it’s an emergency, try 911 first.”
Ohh, that was towing the line of funny-bad and bad-bad. He didn’t regret it, but that was a pretty old line. It hadn’t aged well.
Marion, of course, didn’t seem to notice.
“I will do that,” she chuckled and tucked the phone back in her bag. She took a step or two back down the aisle, preparing the head toward the stairs; her original declared destination, but her focus was still on Gus. “I’ll see you later - Got to get going or Ken’ll be searching Heaven and Earth for me, thinking I got lost.”
Marion’s nose wrinkled. She waved, then bounced about-face and disappeared around the corner.