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Who: Marcus & Isaac
When: evening, 19 September
Where: Flint Manor, the exercise room in particular
What: Marcus is working out. Isaac wants to re-discuss things. Can this go well?
Rating: Er. High?
Status: threading
Work had been yet another day of irritations and frustrations, which is all it seemed to be lately. He couldn't leave the position, not without going against the wishes of others, and at the same time, Marcus chafed against the restraints he'd been placed under. His skin itched. Again. He'd spent most of the day riding a desk, researching shite for others, and finally getting time in an interrogation room where Cap had expected him to pretend to be the good bloke. Shite wasn't even making sense anymore.
After dinner, he'd tried to spend time with Isolde in the solarium, but after a bit he'd excused himself to go down to the workout room. He left his shoes and shirt off to one side, changing into comfortable trackies before taking out his irritations on the punching bag. The world narrowed down to the feel of muscles under his skin, the thud of his hand into the heavy bag, the bruises that would be left and healed quickly. It focused him, working out like this, and he could let everything else go, at least for a time.
When: evening, 19 September
Where: Flint Manor, the exercise room in particular
What: Marcus is working out. Isaac wants to re-discuss things. Can this go well?
Rating: Er. High?
Status: threading
Work had been yet another day of irritations and frustrations, which is all it seemed to be lately. He couldn't leave the position, not without going against the wishes of others, and at the same time, Marcus chafed against the restraints he'd been placed under. His skin itched. Again. He'd spent most of the day riding a desk, researching shite for others, and finally getting time in an interrogation room where Cap had expected him to pretend to be the good bloke. Shite wasn't even making sense anymore.
After dinner, he'd tried to spend time with Isolde in the solarium, but after a bit he'd excused himself to go down to the workout room. He left his shoes and shirt off to one side, changing into comfortable trackies before taking out his irritations on the punching bag. The world narrowed down to the feel of muscles under his skin, the thud of his hand into the heavy bag, the bruises that would be left and healed quickly. It focused him, working out like this, and he could let everything else go, at least for a time.
