Calliope and Roara take out some frustration on the punching bags. One of them is named Webb.
Location: Gym, The Vanguard
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 997
Roara lets out a feminine grunt of exertion. Her small hand flies forward, emitting a muffled slap where it makes contact with the punching bag in front of her. She keeps one hand up defensively as she inches her way around to the other side of the bag. Her knuckles are both wrapped in white boxing tape. "Argh-argh-argh!" With gritted teeth, she punches again. This time it's in rapid succession.
Calliope wanders into the gym, dressed down in sweats and with an under-slept look about her. She angles for the treadmills, first and foremost. But the sound of Roara's grunting makes her turn her head. For a moment she just stops, watching the punching. Like she's not at all sure what to do with herself.
Grazing the side of her nose with her thumb, Roara remains squared off with the bag. A few coils of hair stick to her temples. Her chubby upper lip lifts, revealing a clean row of white teeth in the shape of a sneer. She lays into it with a surge of aggressive energy. She's fulfilling a personal vendetta. Punch right, punch left, elbow. Repeat, repeat, repeat... When she does finally stop, it's while gasping for breath. Frowning, Roara only notices Calliope by chance. She staggers away from the bag a pace, allowing it time to recover.
Calliope offers Roara a shaky little nod. Then proceeds to the equipment area, and gets herself some wraps for her knuckles. She puts them on super awkwardly. Has she ever boxed in her life? Theoretically they forced her to do some in basic, but she fumbles with it in a way that might make one doubt. "Can I try a punch?" she asks, with a gesture to the heavy bag.
Roara is catching her breath. She nods back. A little. While Calli is wrapping up, Roara tries to get back some of the momentum she'd built up. She bounces, shifting her weight on the balls of her feet. "I don't know," Roara rolls her head on her neck, throwing a punch at the bag. Her bouncing shifts her out of Calli's way ...for what that's worth. "/Can/ you?" Evidently highly amused by her own burn, Roara brings up her tongue to touch her upper teeth. She lets out a high pitched sound.
Calliope winds up attacks the heavy bag with a high-pitched warcry. Or as close as the Caprican can come. So, mostly, it's just high-pitched. She actually lands a punch. It's not very impressive, but it connects, and seems to please her. She tries again. And again. And again. Wailing on the thing with all she can manage. She would probably not win a fight with a human. But it's a heavy bag, so it has to take her very blonde, Caprican abuse without hitting back.
The bag remains inert, internalizing much of the abuse. Why, Calli? Why?
"Alright, Cruise Director. I see you," Roara purrs in something closer to admiration. "You want to adjust your stance. You're right handed?" She motions but it's in sortof a twirl and has nothing to do with what she's saying, "Move your left foot slightly forward. Keep that other arm up slightly. Close to your body like this." Roara demonstrates, taking a testing jab towards the bag. She doesn't actually hit it.
Calliope steps back. Panting. A weak smile twitching at her lips at the 'Cruise Director' nick-name. She'll own that one. "Yeah." She holds up her hand right hand, making another fist. Left arm held up in the way Roara instructs. She watches the test jab, then takes another right swing at the bag. It connects again, with a little less flailing this time. "Spider's a frakking asshole," she says, as she punches.
"No shit," Roara takes a back seat, moving around to hold the bag steady. "Try a hook shot. Knock one of his pretty-boy teeth clean out of his head." She leans back just in case she ends up in the line of fire. "You ever actually fight anybody, Bullseye?" The tone is... doubtful.
"FRAK YOU, ASSHOLE!" Calliope shrieks at the heavy bag. Punch! OK, that one might've given someone a bloody lip. She steps back, breathing hard and looking a little pleased with herself. She grins slight at Roara. Shrugging. "Not really. There was this girl I went to highschool with that I got into it in the bathrooms once. She made some crack about my mom. We just kind of pulled each other's hair until one of the teachers split us up, though. I think she was afraid of breaking a nail."
Roara snorts, jumping back some at the attack. "Where'd you even go to highschool?" She asks with skeptical amusement, slowing her vocalization to provide a snooty dramatization of a Caprican accent, "Athena's Private Academy for Girls."
Calliope laughs. She can't help it. "Actually, it was the Hermes Academy of Pre-Collegiate Studies. At least it was co-ed." Punch. That connected. "There was an all-girl's Athena school the same people ran, but that sounded like even less fun. The school was my dad's idea. It sucked. But I guess it could've been worse. The public schools in Cap City were ass."
Roara groans, looking to the ceiling. "What a distinction!" She huffs out a breath of a laugh, "Let me tell you something. Some spoiled little brat ever pulled /my/ hair then /or now/-" Bulging her eyes, Roara nods towards the punching bag. Keep punching, Calli! "She's getting knocked out."
"I should've. She was a bitch. She might be dead now, though." This takes some of the force out of Calliope's punching. "So I guess I win. I went back to that part of Cap City once, after I got back on planet after the uprising. Everybody in that part of town had a Cylon butler." She does not provide anymore details than that.
Roara does not feel bad about this. Dead or alive, it takes none of the wind out of her sails. “I don’t know her,” she tells Calli with an informative life of her brows. “Being dead doesn’t absolve shit-” She gently double taps the side of the bag with the inside of her palm, “-Frak. I punch ghosts every day.”
Backstepping, Roara lets out a quiet grunt. She rolls back her shoulders and her neck to try and loosen them. “For what it’s worth. I wouldn’t be too hard on Webb. That was a frakked up, dumb, blaze-of-glory hero shit Twinkletoes pulled.” She backs up again, bringing up both index fingers to trace twirls over her temples. “It’s gotta be… frakked... rationalizing that...” Look, she didn’t go to some fancy prep school. Bear with her. “Don’t get me wrong. He can frak off. It’s just… a lot of lives to probably feel responsible for.”
"I've been going over and over it again in my brain," Calliope admits, stepping back from the heavy bag. Blue eyes flitting from it, to Roara. "It all happened so quick. The nuke warning, and then Twinkle Toes was just...gone...I didn't even realize what he was doing. I think if we had we could've...frak..." She lets out a long breath. "Why do you think he did it? Was it just dumb blaze-of-glory shit? Do you think he thought it was necessary? Or...?" She doesn't finish that last one. The question just hangs, trailing off into many unspoken questions she doesn't want to ask.
"Can't know for sure," Roara's eyelids sink and her mouth presses closed for a moment. Flexing her fingers, she swings her hips lazily away from the row of punching bags and begins to unwrap them. Anything more she might say is kept back by a tightening jaw.
"Yeah. I guess we can't. Ever, now." Calliope eases back from the heavy bag. Stepping backward until the reaches a bench, and then flopping down on it. Looking down at her wrapped knuckles and murmuring, "Ow." Punching things stings if you aren't used to it.
"Satisfying, right?" Roara continues to unwrap her knuckles. She doesn't really look up to see whether or not Calli is satisfied with the sting. /She/ is. "I actually like these bags a lot more than the ones on Galactica. They seem a little tougher." She pouts, considering them.
Calliope half-smiles at Roara as she unwraps her knuckles. "Yeah. It kind of is. And I guess that fits. This is, like, hardcore SpecOps ship. Maybe we get tougher bags." She takes a deep breath, in and out, getting her wind back. "I'm an ace now. I don't even know what to do with that. It's frakking bizarre."
Roara frowns down at her knuckles as they're exposed to her, pressing her finger tenderly into them. "Let it empower you. And don't let it go to your head?" Looking back up, she can't offer much in the way of a smile. Brushing away a drip of sweat making its way down her neck, she clears her throat again. "Alright, I'm out of here. Enjoy your workout, /Bullseye/."
"Yeah. Right." Unclear if Calliope means the 'empower you' or 'don't let it go to your head' part. Probably both. Roara gets a little nod. "Maybe I'll hit the treadmill for awhile, until I'm too tired to think. Later, Hammerhead." Pause. "Thanks." For the punching advice, and the rest.
"You're welcome." The response is natural. Roara doesn't overthink. She double-pounds her fist loosely against her shoulder as she makes her way out onto the upper deck.