Treating my body like a stolen car// Wait//Twelve story building drop

[freestyle_one]

Kate's knuckles screeched out protest after protest through the wrappings as they collided with the punching bag. Improved as her hands were, they weren't ready for this, but she didn't care. Just needed to hit something, because the alternative was curling up on the floor of her shower and hiding tears through hot water. She still felt sick over

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[doctor_weevil]

Owen came in from the firing range, smelling faintly of the enclosed space and gunshot residue. He was stiff from the plane and tired from jet lag and figured a full workout would be fun. Or not fun, but, yeah.

His eyes flicked over to Kate. She looked... pissed. Moving quietly to the treadmill, he decided to wait until she noticed him. Well - he disliked anyone interrupting him when a punchbag was suffering the worst of his grievances.

[freestyle_one]

Exertion and pain made her breath ragged, and after a few more solid minutes she landed a final hit before backing up, panting. She slid down onto a bench, wincing as she gingerly unwrapped her hands. Just or good measure, she took a swig of water and a couple painkillers. She waited for her heartbeat to slow, noticing Owen out of the corner of her vision. She didn't say anything, she didn't feel fit for public company at the moment.

Fighting another cringe she went to stiffly unwrap the other hand.

[doctor_weevil]

"That bag was just asking for it, wasn't it?" he observed, not stopping his run.

[freestyle_one]

"Looked at me funny", Kate joked humorlessly, putting the wrappings aside and stiffly stretching out her cramping fingers.