Ford had never had trouble sleeping. Even though he'd been through a lot of bad stuff over the years, he'd always been able to just shut down his brain and go to sleep
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There were certain sounds to which Sarah was accustomed. Car horns. The sound of cars passing by on the street. Sirens in the distance. Those sort of sounds had, over the years, become a sort of comfort to her. But though she tended to sleep well enough, she was also still very much a detective, no matter if she'd left all that behind in New Orleans. She had left the job behind, but not the instincts. Sounds that didn't fit in, sounds that stood out against the background of sound she was accustomed to - those were the sounds that snapped her from sleep to full wakefulness in a matter of minutes
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Ford spared half a thought that he should have tied his hair back before he got started on this. It kept on falling in front of his face. But he was too caught up in what he was doing to bother now.
He didn't care when his knuckles started aching. Only when they were finally scrubbed raw against the punching bag and bleeding ever so slightly did he stop. He gripped the bag to stop its swaying and rested his forehead against it, breathing a bit hard after the exertion. At least he felt a bit better now. Not good, but better.
Sarah watched silently, until Ford finally stopped, noting the blood on his knuckles as he held onto the bag. After a moment, she asked quietly, "You mind if I give it a go?" It seemed like a better way to maybe start a conversation than straight-up asking him what he was doing down here in the middle of the night.
And besides, she missed the gym in the station back in New Orleans. She had been pretty good at kick-boxing, back before she'd got shot, but she still packed a pretty decent punch. The dented door of the refrigerator in her old apartment was a testament to that.
Okay, that answered the question whether she was a light sleeper or not. He hadn't been that loud, he thought.
But for some reason he wast too surprised that she'd come sneaking down here. Nosy damn detective.
He stepped back, wiping the sweat from his brow and gestured for her to go ahead. He considered getting out of there and into a shower. But, eh... He could give himself some time with the weights as well.
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He didn't care when his knuckles started aching. Only when they were finally scrubbed raw against the punching bag and bleeding ever so slightly did he stop. He gripped the bag to stop its swaying and rested his forehead against it, breathing a bit hard after the exertion. At least he felt a bit better now. Not good, but better.
Reply
And besides, she missed the gym in the station back in New Orleans. She had been pretty good at kick-boxing, back before she'd got shot, but she still packed a pretty decent punch. The dented door of the refrigerator in her old apartment was a testament to that.
Reply
But for some reason he wast too surprised that she'd come sneaking down here. Nosy damn detective.
He stepped back, wiping the sweat from his brow and gestured for her to go ahead. He considered getting out of there and into a shower. But, eh... He could give himself some time with the weights as well.
Reply
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