{ hit me with your best shot

[strongerthanyouknow]

*CRACK*


*WHAM*





Anyone within sight of the gym in Apartment 2 is now treated to the sight of Sara Lance frowning at a punching bag on the ground. The 'Fitness Center' had already been a disappointment salvaged only by their being a hanging bag in the back class area.

She's barefooted and bare-fisted, and frowning.

Very much frowning.

That hadn't even taken two minutes. She hadn't even worked up a sweat. She definitely had not gotten anywhere near what she needed to get to feel her purpose was achieved.

Comments

[bringstheheat]

Mick shrugs at the question, considers the bare wall in the back corner. "Not today, no. Draw up some specs and I'll see what I can do." Because he might not be an engineer, but with a solid set of plans he can take quite a few things and run with them.

"I ain't gonna use that kind of jungle gym but a better set of bags and weights will go to some good use."

[strongerthanyouknow]

Sara gives a look toward his direction that really begs the question why a joke needs a serious answer, even she does sort of shoot a glance up at the ceiling. Momentarily humoring him at the idea of height. It'd be better somewhere that was not this space and this room. Somewhere with a lot more headway above, and space around, and she knows part of that is the comparison was well picked, was strategically picked, placed, and built.

"So would anything that looked like a real gym and not a civilian playpen."

[bringstheheat]

What? He's bored and he knows his way around a welding set thank you very much. The questioning look is met with a shrug because why the hell not?

The wooden dummy is set up, braces locked in and weights in place to keep it stable. "Don't go bustin that to shit yet boss. I got a few more things to bring in."

Weights. A tool set to anchor the heavy bag properly. The setup won't be pretty, but it will work for the moment. More importantly it keeps Mick busy and distracted. When he's both, there's less chance of shit randomly catching fire.

[strongerthanyouknow]

Sara doesn't have to look hopeful about, and she doesn't, but it doesn't give her any reason to keep commenting on it. Or to get off of sitting on the bag. Annoyance -- which is the only lightest, nicest thing in the swirl in her head and her skin -- still floating at all of her edges, even as she pokes with her fingers.

"When did you start planning all this?"

[bringstheheat]

A roll of a shoulder. He doesn't look at her when he speaks again. "If I got stuff to do, something to focus on, less chances I go up again." Focus. Work. Anything to keep his mind and his hands occupied and not thinking about his sudden tendencies to catch fire. So why not focus on a better work out area.

[strongerthanyouknow]

"I'm restless, too." This with only the barest glance in the direction of where he's working on the setup.
She doesn't think about how that last word -- so small, so simple -- is one she wouldn't have said months ago.

She wouldn't have assumed; just like she wouldn't have admitted it. Not without pressing.
One of only two people here that she would be willing to say that to in the slightest.





This place and it's lack of answers, lack of action, lack of fixing, isn't calming.

[bringstheheat]

Mick nods in agreement. It's partial restlessness and getting damned sick of going up in smoke randomly that's been keeping him focused.

So he talks while he works because what else are they gonna do?

"Used to get itchy when Snart was planning one of his jobs. Days of reading plans, memorizing time tables and observation. Drove me crazy." A small quirk of a smile. Blink and you'll miss it. "So I'd find shit to do. Rebuild an engine, work on the weapons, box the heavy bag until I couldn't lift my damn arms."

[strongerthanyouknow]

He doesn't mean it as a dig. That's not who Mick Rory is. Honestly, that's a damn comfort to not have to question about him. Mick Rory if he thinks you're fucking up anything from his patience to everything in the universe will point it, blunt as the broad side of a barn, with a growl thrown in and a good smattering of violent inspiration to put a light under you.

It still needles like one. She should have a plan.
Any kind of a plan by now that isn't just keeping people alive.





"What kind of engine?" Even if distractions aren't what she's looking for, herself.
At least aside from the one that put the bag she's sitting on under her now.

[bringstheheat]

No, if Mick meant it as a dig, she and everyone else within earshot would know it. But he's also not exactly the best when it comes to casual conversation mainly because people don't go to him for something so mundane. It's simply a distraction, a way to try and give her something else to think about, something else to focus on while he works and while she refuses to get up off the bag he needs to re-hang.

"Bikes mainly. Was rebuilding an old Indian before the Englishman showed up and kidnapped our asses up to that roof."

Sara, like Snart, needs a plan or some sort of direction rather than simply waiting things out. It's half the reason he brought in the extra equipment, the extra gear.

.. he also can't offer to distract her like he used to distract Snart..