[Milliways Gym]

[2goodarms]

Curtis has started to develop a workout routine. Since his gym visits shifted from "occasional" to "nearly every day," he's taken to quiet observation whenever he's on one of the treadmills, watching the gym's other occupants to see what they're doing, cataloging all the exercises that don't involve two working arms. Some trigger a flash of oh, right, I remember that. Others...not really.

But, one at a time, he works them into his own circuit. Squats. Crunches. Jumps. More time at the heavy bag (his hand always wrapped properly nowadays). All of it's getting easier. He even figures out how to start working his way toward one-armed push-ups: just put his hands higher than his feet, like on a wall or a bench or something.

That's what he's focusing on today -- wall push-ups. It's the last thing on his agenda before he heads out, and damn, it's a strain to make it through the last few reps.

Comments

[dejah_thoris]

There's a puff of wind at the door, and a large, squat dog-shaped creature appears as if from thin air. Woola lifts his nose and sniffs repeatedly, scanning the room. Ah! The Curtis person. The one who made his Dejah laugh and cry and then laugh some more.

Dejah needs more of the Curtis person and he is not doing anything but leaning against a wall. Humans are so confusing sometimes.

Woola zips through the gym, around the equipment, and stops just beside Curtis. The sound he makes isn't quite a bark, but it's close enough to one that we'll just call it a bark. A low, guttural whisper of a bark.

Your presence is requested. Come this way please.

Sometimes if you think really hard at a human, they can understand what you're trying to say.

[2goodarms]

Curtis looks down --

"Jesus -- "

-- and almost loses his balance as he scrambles back a couple steps. "Woola, what the fuck."

How the hell can something that big move that fast?

[dejah_thoris]

Woola gives Curtis a very pointed look and grumble woofs again. He glances at the door and back to Curtis, shifting his massive bulk between his six legs.

C'mon, get your shit together. Important stuff happening, requires your presence.

[2goodarms]

He drags his hand over his head, wiping away some of the sweat, and eyes Woola a little longer. Even for a massive, Martian bulldozer dog-thing -- and even with Curtis forgetting a lot of animal body language -- that seems like a fairly clear request.

"Everything okay?" he asks, already reaching to grab the bundle of layers he shed during his workout.

[dejah_thoris]

The calot sighs, rolls his eyes, and circles around Curtis -- twice -- before stopping, dropping his head and very gently nudging him towards the door.

Do you need a written invitation? Come on.

[2goodarms]

"I'm coming, I'm coming, God," says Curtis. Apparently there's no time to put his flannel, sweater, and coat back on, but he's at least going to fish his hat out of the pile and jam it in place before wrestling the rest of the clothes under his arm. "What's going on?"

He's (finally) walking to the door as he says the last, though.

[dejah_thoris]

Woola grumbles something that ends on a positive note, and zips ahead of Curtis to stand in the doorway. He's grinning that huge calot grin now.

It's a beautiful day and my Dejah person wants to see you, sooner rather than later, okay?

[2goodarms]

Woola might have a face only a mother could love -- as Tanya would've put it -- and there are still way too many teeth in that grin for Curtis to feel immediately comfortable, but he has to quirk a tiny smile at the sight anyway. (Especially since none of those teeth seem to be going for Curtis' neck any time soon.)

"How's Dejah doing?"

If it were something serious, he suspects there'd be less of a grin and triple the urgency right now.

[dejah_thoris]

That question gets a full body wiggle, and a rapid shuffling of feet while staying in place. Woola glances out through the bar and back to Curtis, and then repeats the gesture.

And then he's behind Curtis again, nudging him so hard he almost takes him off his feet.

She smells happy when she's with you. Very happy. And not lonely, which is much better than usual. So you go. Make Dejah happy. Go on. Hurry up.

[2goodarms]

"Hey, easy -- "

He stumbles, almost dropping the bundle of clothes.

"She still at the forge?"

[dejah_thoris]

The calot grumbles under his breath. And then gives Curtis a very pointed look. He has no idea what a forge is. But he knows where Dejah is, and he knows that Dejah wants Curtis.

He zips ahead and woofs, flipping his nose up in the air and sniffing. He clearly expects Curtis to follow him.

[2goodarms]

And follow he does! Better than being shoved along, really.

It definitely looks like they're headed toward the forge -- or what he assumes is the forge, from Dejah's description. Curtis picks up the pace as they get closer.

His increase in speed is only to keep Woola happy. Really. (Shut up.)

[dejah_thoris]

The doors of the forge are thrown open, all the better to enjoy the morning air. Dejah is in the process of feeding charcoal into the throat of the forge. There's already smoke coming out the top of the forge, and the red glow of the flame reflected on her copper skin. Her cheek is smudged with coal dust and her hands are black.

From across the yard, she hears Woola chuff out a greeting, and she looks up to see Curtis.



Her face splits in a high voltage grin, bright enough to power a small city in the dead of winter.

[2goodarms]

"Hey." Despite himself, Curtis starts to mirror the grin. "Your, uh..."

He swings his elbow up an inch to indicate Woola.

"...thing found me. What is he, anyway?"

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah stands, uses the back of her wrist to shove the hair out of her eyes.

"Good morning," she drawls. "He's a calot." Woola prances around the two of them, grinning broadly, wagging his stubby little tail. "Thank you Woola. I think we're fine here, if you want to go for a run."

Woola woofs and waddles over to broad flat spot in the sun, and flops down contentedly.

Dejah wanders over to join Curtis, standing perhaps a bit too close. "He's a very unique creature. He believes that I belong to him. And if you belong to him, he will follow you anywhere. Loyal to a fault."

[2goodarms]

"Yeah, I'm kinda getting that," he says, letting his clothes thump to the grass. He casts an amused glance Woola's way. "Lucky you."

Too close for most people feels perfectly normal to Curtis. After a beat, he reaches to wipe the smudge on Dejah's cheek. "Been out here long?"

[dejah_thoris]

He reaches for her, touches her cheek and her eyes fall oclosed. She lifts her chin, and holds her breath for the brief moment it takes him to wipe off the mark.

"I -- uh... No. No not really. Just an hour or so."

Too close for Dejah is close enough to rest a hand on his chest.

"Did he -- uh -- rouse you from your routine?"

[2goodarms]

Heedless of the coal dust on her hand, he covers it with his own.

"Nah, not really," he says. "I was just finishing up in the gym. But he was, uh, pretty insistent I get out here."

[dejah_thoris]

She studies his face. Sometimes having an eidetic memory is difficult, making the simplest interactions fraught with unnecessary data. Today? She recognizes new lines in his face. Around his eyes.

Smile lines. There are some around his mouth, too.

"I'm sorry, I may have wondered aloud where you were, what you were doing. I tend to talk to myself and forget, he's, well..."

Her words taper off and she gives a little half shrug.

[2goodarms]

"Attentive?" he supplies, a touch wry. "Yeah."

Not to mention smart as hell.

"So what're you up to so far?"

[dejah_thoris]

"Oh with the prostheses? I -- uh -- yes. I have the substructure articulated. I'm working on the musculature and some of the exterior today."

She hasn't moved away from him, hasn't pulled her hand back. "I was thinking, perhaps you could, erm, model? For me? Your arm, I mean. Not..." She's grinning now, and there's a flush of color in her cheeks.

Still not moving away.

[2goodarms]

Okay, how is it possible for her to get even more attractive when she's flustered. Dammit.

"Sure," he says, suppressed laughter just beneath his voice. "I can model my arm for you."

He's not moving away, either.

[dejah_thoris]

"Oh good. Okay, yes. Let's -- um. Here." She takes his hand in hers and draws him deeper into the workshop. There's a jeweller's bench back here, strewn with her schematics, tools, and what looks like the rudimentary beginnings of a mechanical arm. There's a couple of stools, and she pulls one closer to where she was obviously sitting. "You. Sit here. That way I can move passed you with the hot metal and you're out of the way."

[2goodarms]

He follows, unresisting -- if a little amused -- and takes a seat where she indicates. "All right," he says, good-natured.

And...huh. Look at that. Curtis peers at the beginnings of the arm, resisting the urge to reach out and touch it; instead, he lays the back of his hand flat against the table, studying his palm and the prosthesis by turns.

[dejah_thoris]

A moment later, there's a gentle tug and she pulls his hat from his head.