Who: Murphy & OPEN Where: The Gym When: about the same time Connor's getting coffee Warnings: possibly some sweary
Connor hadn't slept well, which in turn meant that Murphy hadn't slept well, sometimes he hated being a twin. When his brother had gone off in search of the most holiest of breakfast drinks, Murphy had decided to work out the lack-of-sleep-tension in his own way, he'd checked in on the gym a couple of times, but hadn't actually paid much attention to it otherwise. It was something he was going to remedy at the moment, still wearing the sweatpants he'd slept in and a t-shirt he'd thrown on because it was cold in here.
He'd gone through a quick warm-up just so that he wouldn't do himself an injury before he'd gone about shadow-boxing. He'd never had any formal training, not really, and he was a brawler by nature and by heritage, fighting was in his blood and always had been. The twins' mother often said that he came out of the womb clobbering his brother, though Murphy would swear up and down that Connor had started it, because Connor always started it.
Aside from the lack of sleep, he had a lot on his mind, new world, almost the same mission as back home, and a training camp to go to the following week, he was kind of looking forward to that, actually, because it meant that he'd have an excuse to actually use the arsenal he'd brought with him, the one that was currently stashed in the bottom of the closet in Connor's room in the duffel he'd thrown it into the morning he'd arrived, the morning he'd still been in Boston and on a whole different mission. He was going through the movements in near-silence, only the occasional exhalation or quiet curse as he moved.