2236-11-29 - Role Reversal

Joseph meets Cate and shares some sparring pointers.

Date: 2236-11-29

Location: Gym

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 900

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With a lull between missions, Cate has wandered down to the gym. She's presently at one of the small punching bags in the back, doing some speed drills with little padded MMA-style boxing gloves on. She's wearing her double tanktops and sweatpants, her damp hair pulled back in a ponytail.

First in pokes a head to see just how busy it is, and on seeing that it's relatively quiet, in comes one of the older marines on board, Joseph Adebola. He too is in tanks and sweats, a towel casually slung over one shoulder, which is set down on a bench when he enters. Cate gets a silent nod of greeting, but no more. One might surmise that he's not in a talkative mood.

Cate glances over when she catches movement out of the corner of her eye. "Hi," she says, in response to that nod. Punch punch punch. The bag bounces a few more times and then she apparently decides to take a break and catch her breath. She steps over to a pile on the floor that has her sweatshirt hoodie and water bottle, bending down to scoop up the latter.

"Afternoon," comes the measured response, as the bigger marine begins to contort himself into the usual stretches to warm up. "Coming or going?"

Cate considers the question for a moment, taking a sip of water. "Um. Neither really. Just hanging out." She watches him stretch and says, "I've seen you around the berthings a couple times. Cate Rhodes," she offers.

Joseph gives a small nod, stretches shifting subtly into something more graceful, holding one pose for a few seconds before fading into the next. "Joseph Adebola," he offers. "Not been on board long." The accent is definitely Virgon, but it's not the clipped vowels of the upper classes, nor the guttural lack of consonants of more urban areas.

"Well, none of us have when you get right down to it," Cate notes with a light smile. The accent catches her attention. "What part of Virgon are you from?" she wonders, not quite able to place the accent. Hers has a bit of the Hibernian lilt to it, but it's not strong.

"Define 'from'," Joseph responds with a half smile. "Born over in Blaustad, but I've been around." He moves slowly into a lower stance, one hand drawn back and one out to the side. It's definitely not just stretching any more. "Hibernia?"

Cate hitches a shoulder, "I suppose 'from' is what you make of it." She nods to his question. "Yeah. Tiras. Definitely qualifies as 'from' since I've hardly been anywhere else." A little smirk there, before it disappears for another sip of water.

"You'll get your fill of going other places now," Joseph predicts drily, straightening and beginning to repeat the set of movements again, this time a little faster. "Join the marines, see the galaxy... you know the rest."

"I suppose. Seen Virgon, Picon, Tauron and the top side of Scorpia already. Eight more to go and maybe I'll get a set of steak knives," Cate replies equally dryly. "You're in the marines too, yeah?" She watches the movements with idle curiosity.

"Fifteen man and boy," Joseph agrees, pausing to shake out a few muscles and run for a moment on the spot. "Retired once, but... cylons." He shrugs. As though that explains everything, and maybe it does. "This your first posting?"

"Fifteen what?" Cate says blankly, apparently not getting his expression. She shakes her head to the latter question. "No. I was on the Argyll before, and I got caught up in shit on Picon when the war started. Doesn't quite count as a posting I guess, but..." A little shrug seems to say 'close enough'.

"I mean I signed up young, and spent fifteen years before I got out," Joseph explains patiently, rolling his shoulders before beginning his kata once more. "I guess you don't use that expression any more. Argyll?"

"Oh. I've never heard it, but that doesn't mean anything. Argyll is one of the Royal Navy cutters. That was my first official post till I came here." Cate puts her water bottle back on top of her hoodie and wonders, "So you must be a sergeant then, with all that time in."

Joseph nods to that, moving into a slightly more aggressive stance, this one with definite fists formed. "Guilty," he agrees. "Although it remains to be seen what the other colonies provide as equivalents. I'm hoping the rumours that they hand out ranks and medals in boxes of cereal on Caprica are exaggerated. Marine? Lance?" he guesses of her.

Cate snickers a little at the crack about Caprica. "Or that they buy them on Leonis." She nods, though. "Yeah, Lance Corporal. Medic." She gestures towards the padded area in the back. "You feel like sparring? Lot of the guys just box, but looks like you know some actual forms."

Joseph stretches his arms over his head, straightening. "I'll be a punching bag for you, if that's what you mean," he allows, adding with a smile, "At least I know I'll be in safe hands if you beat me bloody, Doc."

"If I wanted a punching bag, there are perfectly good ones over there," Cate points out mildly, eyebrows arched. "I've got enough work in sickbay without making more of it for myself. Besides, usually it's the Royal Marines who like to beat the piss out of the Hibernians, not the other way around." The dry comment is just on the edge of snarky, trying to make a joke but getting a little too close to the truth for her own comfort.

"If we're into role reversal, shall I put a bomb under your bed?" comes the all too quick response from the older marine, something perhaps touching a nerve there before Joseph takes a breath and shakes his head. There's a moment, then it's all put behind him and he looks to her once more. "Try not to beat me too hard."

Cate's face twists in a grimace. She walked right into that one, didn't she. "Think the Navy kinda frowns on that sort of thing aboard their ships," she replies, trying to be glib but coming off a little more tightly. "Likewise. You want a helmet?" She grabs a sparring helmet from the rack and offers one to him if he wants. She's already got gloves on.

Joseph waves the helmet off, apparently willing to risk it old school, as he follows her over towards the mats in the corner. He kneels to remove his shoes, however, and double checks that his belt is tight before he steps onto the mat to join her and gives the traditional, formal bow.

Cate doesn't protest the lack of gear. She also stops to kick off her sneakers and socks before coming into the sparring area. The bow gets a flicker of surprise, but she returns it stiffly before dropping into a fighting stance. "You been doing this a long time?" she wonders idly.

"Beating on Hibernians?" Joseph queries, cracking a small, ironic smile. His stance is less a fighting one, and very much a defensive one, holding back to test exactly what she's capable of before he tries anything.

"Hah." It's a dry snerky chuckle. "I meant martial arts. But now that you mention it... the other might be relevant too." Cate bounces around the ring lightly a bit before realizing that he's sticking to defense, and comes in with a combo of kicks. She doesn't suck, but she's not in his league.

The thing about the way Joseph fights is that there's nothing showy about it. Everything has the very minimum of movement, and just enough force to deflect the blows that come in, with more sidestepping and bending than anything else. It isn't until the third or fourth time that Cate comes in that he picks his spot and his moment, puts his weight just where it's needed, and it's a throw.

Used to fighting boxers and more traditional karate-equivalent type kicks and punches, a throw is about the last thing Cate was expecting. She hits the mat with a light thud. Knows how to fall without hurting herself, at least. "Okay," she says as she rolls over to pick herself up. "Wasn't expecting that."

"Should I apologise?" Joseph asks, stepping back and resuming his defensive stance once more, although this time with a very faint smile on his face. Sometimes it just feels good to get the cheap wins in. Perhaps that's payback for the 'beating on Hibernians' jibe. "You telegraph your kicks," he warns her, perhaps a little more usefully.

"Wasn't a criticism. Not of you anyway," Cate points out, catching her breath for a second before getting back into a similar stance. "I do huh? All right." She mulls that over, trying to be a little more subtle about it the next go-round. But yeah, not so much.

It's like trying to beat to death a wall of water. Every time a punch or a kick comes up, he's just not there any more. He's doing very little to retaliate, only blocking on the ever increasing occasions when she gets close, and occasionally pushing away a limb or a shoulder to take her off balance when she overextends. "Balance," Joseph suggests, giving the umpteenth nudge to her elbow as it comes down, bringing him safely outside the sweep of her arm and in the perfect place to counter... and yet not actually doing it.

It's frustrating, is what it is, and Cate is not immune to letting that frustration get the better of her. Overextending, telegraphing her moves, leaving herself open to easy retaliations if he were inclined to do so. At his suggestion to mind her balance, she actually backs off for a moment, catching her breath and considering his advice. "Good thing beating on Hibernians isn't your favorite pasttime," she observes dryly.

"It's nothing personal," Joseph apologises, finally as she backs off now beginning to throw a few, well telegraphed strikes of his own. Now she's tired. "I just have other hobbies."

"Lucky me." After the deadpan response, Cate readies her stance again. "So what is your favorite pasttime?" Having tired herself out, her defense isn't spectacular. She blocks a few, takes one on the shoulder, then fades back with a fake and another kick.

Joseph ducks under the first, but the second clips him in the side as he shifts to rush her and bundle her down, suddenly on the offensive to close this right down now. He doesn't immediately respond, concentration on getting past her defences and keeping up his own as he hooks a foot around the back of her knee and throws the rest of his weight forward on her. For those paying attention, it's less a traditional strike and more a 'Mr President', where he ends up on top of his target and between them and any potential outside harm. Not, perhaps, that Cate would see it that way.

The moment of satisfaction at landing a kick quickly gives way to surprise as he takes her leg out from under her and then lands on top of her. Thud. Oof. That one winded her a little, and so there isn't a wisecrack immediately forthcoming.

Were he a few years younger, Joseph might have been on his feet again in an instant, but the years do take their toll, no matter how much practice you get in. Breathing heavily, he shifts slightly to keep her pinned, only then, belatedly, answering her question. "Fishing."

Cate isn't complaining about the brief respite. It gives her a chance to catch her breath. The belated answer causes a brief look of confusion until she realizes what he's talking about. "And here I would've guessed wrestling," she says dryly, since he still hasn't moved.

Joseph smirks a little, taking that hint to pull himself off her and upright. He's gentlemanly enough to offer a hand up, too. "This just keeps me fit. Mostly. Fishing's how I relax, and you can't say this is relaxing."

Cate takes the hand up. She's not that stubborn. "Funny, I would say it's relaxing. Not physically, obviously," she grants, clearly a little beat. "But mentally. Anyway, thanks for the match. I've gotta get cleaned up before shift."


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