Charlie Cutter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alittlesweptup) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2013-05-14 12:11 am
alittlesweptup) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-05-14 12:11 am
[CLOSED] you don't look so good
Date & Time: 5/14, evening
Location: The Hold, Training Rooms
Characters: Charlie and Nikolai
Summary: Disreputable men in low places.
Warnings: Probably a lot.
With the housing building still in the process of being rebuilt and most of his things lost in the crash that had caused the damage, Charlie finds himself taking his frustrations out on anything willing to take a hit or five. This particular evening finds him down in the training facilities of the Hold taking swings at a bag until he's breathless, edge of frustration worn down to a blunt flat. Just when he'd started to feel comfortable, they drop a bloody spaceship on him. Of goddamn course.
Charlie gives the bag one last solid jab, then takes a few steps backwards. He shakes out his fingers, not having bothered himself with gloves. Hell, he's still in his street clothes sans jacket having come in straight from the pub (and maybe that's got a bit to do with it as well; a pint or two, all that talk floating around over his head about new housing assignments and new information trickling down from the Initiative higher ups--). Ranging in slow, purposeful circles, he takes sharp even breaths are he tries to wind down. The training rooms are mostly abandoned at this hour.
It's been a long week.
Location: The Hold, Training Rooms
Characters: Charlie and Nikolai
Summary: Disreputable men in low places.
Warnings: Probably a lot.
With the housing building still in the process of being rebuilt and most of his things lost in the crash that had caused the damage, Charlie finds himself taking his frustrations out on anything willing to take a hit or five. This particular evening finds him down in the training facilities of the Hold taking swings at a bag until he's breathless, edge of frustration worn down to a blunt flat. Just when he'd started to feel comfortable, they drop a bloody spaceship on him. Of goddamn course.
Charlie gives the bag one last solid jab, then takes a few steps backwards. He shakes out his fingers, not having bothered himself with gloves. Hell, he's still in his street clothes sans jacket having come in straight from the pub (and maybe that's got a bit to do with it as well; a pint or two, all that talk floating around over his head about new housing assignments and new information trickling down from the Initiative higher ups--). Ranging in slow, purposeful circles, he takes sharp even breaths are he tries to wind down. The training rooms are mostly abandoned at this hour.
It's been a long week.
no subject
"Da," he said. Then he withdrew his hand, shoving thumbs into the hem of his pockets and letting his arms hang loosely on his side.
"You have some name for me now, or should I wait?"