| Betty Crocker |
[12 Feb 2009|09:24pm] |
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It was gone six in the evening when Kris finally peeled herself away from the family home, making sure somebody was at home before she left Rosa to her own devices. She had one last stop to make before she headed back to hers, Eddy needed a walk and a patrol needed to be done. No rest for the wicked.
She pulled in a slow breath as she eased into an already very busy train, feeling the bruise on her back twinging with every movement she made. Kris was grateful for the fact she'd worn her hoodie or the bruise and cut on her face from the altercation with Thea would be a lot more apparent. Not that she was worried, they would fade, they always did.
Kris waited for the train to reach the stop and got off, taking the last couple movements with a relatively easy stride. She'd never been to Toby's house, but she knew her way around Chicago so all it took were a few simple directions and she could find pretty much anywhere. It was one of the perks to having grown up in the city itself.
She shifted her backpack from her shoulders to her hands as she fumbled with the zipper, pretty sure Toby's jumper was somewhere in the bottom, she'd put it in there herself. Aha, found it. With jumper in hand, Kris lifted her hand and knocked a couple times, just waiting for an answer.
Hopefully somebody was home.
( Good Little Housewife )
( Kris, Alec. Alec, Kris )
( Public Arena )
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| Long Way |
[12 Feb 2009|09:38pm] |
The West Loop gym was the closest thing Bastian had to a workout space other than the street outside of his house. He came out to the establishment a few times a month, used the equipment just to keep in shape, and as April loomed a little closer every day he'd started his training regimen in earnest. This year would probably be one of his last chances to win the Golden Gloves tournament before he got too old to compete anymore, and he was devoting a lot of time and energy to it. If nothing else, he'd have at least one trophy to put on his mantel when it was over.
The Cajun was working the heavy bag, concentrating on using his left because that was his off hand. He'd done a long series of stretches before getting started, planned to do some running afterward to build up his endurance. He knew he needed to drop some pounds, that the weighing-in could be an issue, but he felt generally okay about his condition. He hadn't run to pot quite yet.
Unlike the other people attending to their own workouts, Bastian was wearing an old pair of sweatpants and a faded t-shirt that said Marine Corps on the front and Semper Fi on the back. He could afford better duds, but it always felt like pride to him, and why buy something expensive just to sweat in it? His old togs would do fine, thanks.
There was a light lunch waiting for him in a paper bag next to the duffel he'd brought in from the truck. He needed to finish up with the bag first, then eat and do some reps. If he won this year, he could hang it up with dignity. And his left was improving. He just might end up pulling it off.
( Stir crazy )
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