2019-12-08 - Back to teh Bags

December. Edge of Fall. Whatever you want to call it the fact that the duct and insulation work is more than a few decades out of repair is starting to become rather evident. It doesn't stop Joe Kelly rom being there day in, day out, and sometimes nights between. He's still here, on his own time, running thermals and gym clothes overtop: sweatshirt withthe sleeves cut off. Today is some zen focus on hitting the bag. it spins but he's looking to hunt the same spot he's been weakening on teh bag marked by the duct tape. Just because he can't compete doesn't mean he's not working like hell at it.

Alexander arrives, in his faded sweats, gym bag slung over his shoulder. As always - even more since the 'incident' - he slinks in like a man who expects to be ordered out. Or jumped. His eyes scan the interior of the room and he notes the chill in the air. He walks around the town in all seasons, so it doesn't bother him as much, but he definitely notices it. And Kelly, too. He heads in that direction, making enough noise that he's not trying to startle the guy, and watches him work for a bit. "Whatever the bag did, Kelly, I'm sure it's very sorry," he says, at last, with an awkward sort of smile.

Joey somehow ever really jumps the guy but to give a quiet 'Sup." Of the bag? A faint, wry grin etches in his swarthy mug, "Yeah. It's gonna be." As Lilith pointed out but ones, just because he's not fighting doesn't mean those ham hands aren't employed in use. He can, however, carry on conversation just fine focusing on the bagand have a conversation. Tap it into place jabjab, punish the side when it comes in, wocking that sits at rib heigh. Target. Tag it. Work it. soften it. Break it. Make the tower crumble. "Iz looks like she's doin a lot better, Clayton." Yeah if he's go awareness for Alexander's penchant for whole names it's entirely secondary to making this bag cry uncle. Small adjustments are made; Stance. Core. Form. Working past the wall of fatigue. "Glad about that. Heard that was kinda ugly from Erin."

"Isabella?" The correction is more absent than pointed; Alexander is used to people inflicting nicknames on everyone and ruining the order and meaning of the universe like it's NO BIG THING. But it's fine. Really. He puts his bag on a nearby bench, and starts taping and gloving his hands as he watches Joey work. "She's recovering, yes. But the guy who hurt her killed someone else. So I've asked her to be careful and keep an eye out. And yeah. It was an ugly thing. How is Erin doing?" He takes up at the next bag, and starts warming up. He's not as practiced or intentional about form, stance, or...anything else, really. Lack of formal training is clear, although he's better than he was.

Pushing in through whatever this ramshackle building had for a door, Leon actually casts a glance backward at the entrance after it shuts. One might think he was looking back for a pursuer, but his eyes were actually following the hinges and the mechanism. With a shake of his head, since he wasn't on the clock, he walks a little further inward, hands stuffed into the pockets of a big thick grey matte hoodie. The locksmith was wearing sweats and sneakers, clear workout clothes, though he was fully aware no one would recognize him. Why would they? He'd been slacking off his workout routine the past few months and needed a new gym. The line of a duffel strap is stretched across his wide chest, and he slowly strolls, looking around and up, feeling almost a tourist, even if he did have a purpose to coming here.

It's a steel door. It's just not been replaces since it was built in 47. Solid steel tho. Pretty unnecessary for a place that doesn't really deal in cash, but the hinges don't want to close proper and have seen rust. The thing needs to be shuldered open and squeaks in the jamb. Inside Joey ends his rotation with a signature hard left jab to left cross combo that doesn't cause teh bag to swing so much as buckle in place leaving the interta to move through the bag. He turns to Alexander, face flush and heartrate up from teh persistant work which is enough of a queue to grab water. "She's been... keeping to herself. No bruisses. no limping. Doesn't look as haunted as before but... I think this family thing is startin to hit her kinda hard. Holidays? I'm gonna guess that's gonna be a lot of not ok even if she don't say so."

"The holidays are hard, if you're on the outs with your people," Alexander admits. "And the Addingtons are throwing a lot of holiday events where, I'm guessing, she would normally be welcome." His lips press tightly together. He works the bag he's chosen slowly, carefully. He's been here enough times that he doesn't need basic instruction anymore, but somehow he always looks vaguely guilty hitting the bag. Like he's thinking 'it didn't do anything to me'. Hearing the door creak open, he skitters around the side of it, so that he can keep an eye on the newcomer - who he doesn't recognize - and Joey both. He stares at Leon openly as his fists work with a slowly increasing speed and power.

Catching someone actually noticed his entry, Leon tips his chin up in that universal greeting. He does a quick sweep of the area with his eyes, a demonstrative expression, setting his feet for the awkward question part of this experience, "Hey, uh... Y'all do signups or dues or something?" His eyes slip back and forth between Alexandef and Joey, as if unsure who actually worked here. But his eyes do land on Joey finally, for whatever reason. "I need a gym." His thumb makes an appearance so he can point it over a shoulder. "Thats what the front of the building says anyways."

Joey rubs the bridge of his nose with the side of his taped hand. He points to teh door and then the rest of what's behind him. "You lookin to stay fit there't he place downtown. They got tredmills and pilates and a juicebar. You looking to build nad train? That's here. Yes you can pay annual dues or per visit. Couple hours coaching included. Private session is separate." He gives Leon a look, and might be trying to place the guy close in age but says nothing of it. "I mean you wanna drop in right now that's fine." Eyes track to teh sound of tires on concrete and gravel in the parking lot.

Roxy arrives via Uber and shoulders her way through the door in all its heavy old steel-ness. The dancer shrugs out of a fancy vintage wool coat from the 40s or 50s, and beneath she's not in anything vintage-y or fancy whatsoever. She's in black yoga pants and a black sports bra with a pale pink long-sleeved cotton yoga shirt over it, and a matching cloth headband. On her feet are sneakers, which people never see her in outside of the gym. She has a bag on her shoulder and looks around a bit. She's come because she wants to learn to defend herself. She spies Joey and gives him a bright smile and a wave of hello.

Alexander gives a shake of his head to Leon at that look; he definitely doesn't work here. He does snort a bit at Joey's less than stellar advertising technique. "You should let Erin handle the propaganda, Kelly," he mutters, while working the bag. Not quite hiding behind it, but as Roxy enters, it's like his instinctive urge is to put it between him and the rest of the world, only relaxing when he recognizes the woman. He offers her a smile. "Miss Kivela."

Itzhak walked, since he lives on Elm and it's good for warmup/cooldown. 'But it's Elm,' some might say, 'isn't it dangerous?' Itzhak, if someone were to say that to him, would look at them like they're an idiot. Anyway, he rolls on in a moment or so behind Roxy with a gym bag of his own. She's familiar. He's trying to place her, but he keeps being distracted by her coat. That's a good coat! Alexander and Joey are here (of course Joey is here), and he upnods to them both. "Boys." Leon is also here, who he doesn't know, and he eyes him warily.

Leon smirks at Joey's run-down and comparison of services, a brief chuckle made and followed by a loud pull of air thorough his nose, "Nah, I'm pretty sure I found this place the right way." By the smell, just like barracks PT, "It'll fit me just fine." The pitch, though, with all its gruffness leads to the obvious queation, "You must be the Kelly then?" Leon was steppung forward, a generally affable guy, offering a hand or fistbump casually in greeting. "This gym's been sound forever." If the door was any indication, belying his actual local roots...

Joey looks from Leon to Alexander. Alexander isn't wrong! Joey's got the bedside manner of a hitman. "Well... yeah. I do but she ain't here." He frowns a bit. Life got easy since he outsourced talking to the 'nice one'. He offers a tapes hand to Leon, "Joe Kelly. Was built in fourty-seven. Somehow still standing. I think it's built on site and tenacity." And then there's a Roxy. She gets a smile. "Miten menee?" The man knows all of 9 phrases. Enjoy the progress Rozy while he's not asking about mitten men. "Zee. Sup pal."

"Alexander Clayton!" Roxy greets with a smile as she approaches the two recognized men. "It is good to see you again. Thanksgiving was lovely and delicious, wasn't it?" Her words are too exact, her lack of contractions notable, her accent definitely Nordic or Scandinavian of some stripe. She is not a native speaker.

She turns her gaze towards Itzhak as he enters and squints for a moment. He looks familiar. AH! "Hello! You helped me with my routine my very first dance at the Cabaret on amateur night. Thank you! It got me hired." Her smile is electric. Yes Itzhak, you have seen her naked. Sooooo naked.

"Se menee hyvin, Joseph," Roxy replies, leaning to kiss the cranky boxer's cheek. "And how are you today?"

"It was very nice," Alexander agrees, with Roxy. A sidelong look to Joey. "Wanted to thank you. For the invite. You have a lot of people, but they were nice. And you managed not to set anything important on fire with that damned turkey." When he sees Itzhak, his smile brightens and widens. "Hey. How was the trip?" He stops with the bag, and runs a hand through his sweaty hair, absently. His gaze drifts back to Leon. "I don't know you," he says, abruptly. Proving that he has no business critiquing Joey on human interaction.

The place is just full of cheerful, sociable guys today. Itzhak is giving Leon a look known to all tall guys as 'you're taller than me and I disapprove'. "Don't think we met," he says to him, dropping his gym bag on a bleacher and unzipping it to get out the abbreviated gloves like the kind Joey often wears. He laughs under his breath as Alexander turns on the charm, and glances at him with a world of genuine fondness. "Trip was great. Hey, Kelly, how's by ya." And then Roxy reminds him of how he knows her, and yep, he promptly blushes red. "Uh. Right. Right! I, uh, I think I remember." Liar. He totally remembers. "Tchaikovsky. With the ballet."

Leon shakes the taped hand firmly, but a friendly pressure, not one of competition. Having greeted the clear Alpha of the group, Leon turns his eyes to the others, offering brief, quiet nods with easy-going grins. To Alexander, then Itzhak, who both seemed determined to ask and not offer, he cocks his head toward the door, joking, "My name's on the truck." Socialization done, he wasn't part of this associative group, at least yet, so he quietly steps away to get to what he was here for.

He finally pulls the duffel off his shoulder as he moves towards the weights, letting it clunk solidly to the ground. He was already wearing gym clothes, so judging by the sound of the weight, there was probably protective gear in that bag. Unzipping his hoodie, he strips down to a gray tank, the lines of the skeletal bird tatted to his arm visible, as well as dark ink wings peeking from the opposite chest into his shoulder. He sets to a full round of stretches, starting from hands, moving through wrists and arms, then upper body, back and torso. He knew what he was doing, and he wasn't going to hurt himself.

Joey watches Leon, sizing him up up. Not the usual fashion but for the things that matter to him: form, walk, relative obvious familiarity, does the guy do a total routine? Neglect his traps? Skip leg day? These are things as a coach he gives a shit about.

Roxy too, but she gets a half hug there. "You're too good t'me, woman." Answering Itzhak he points to Alexander as his answer. "I didn't set my house on fire with a bird. I think that's a banner fucking day for Gray Harbor. Speaki a'wich, Lilith's got some good shit come in at the pawn shop. If you're not lookin for a thing in a box should hit her up." He does ask Leon, "You from here then." More an educated guess than recognition. Out of towers dont' get far wnough out of down town to come out to the likes of he industrial area of Elm.

Roxy notes Itzhak's blush and pats his shoulder gently. "I am sorry, I did not mean to cause you embarrassment. You really were very helpful though and yes, Swan Lake into a more modern song." She is so sincere. Painfully so. "Joseph assisted me at the Sinners and Saints event. He was also very helpful." And far less likely to blush himself into a puddle over it. Crowd-participation stripping, go figure.

She watches Leon curiously as he moves off. She has not seen him before, either. Granted, she's fairly new to town. She looks back to Alexander and Joey. "Yes it was very nice of you to invite us. It was wonderful." She returns Joey's hug and says quietly, "I was hoping you could teach me how to punch people."

Alexander stares at Leon at the response, expression blank. Then he stops hitting the bag, and slouches his way towards the door. Is he so offended that he's just going to flounce? Apparently not, because he just opens it, and stares out until he finds the truck. "Leon." A pause. "That's only half a name," he points out, turning around and letting the door close behind him again. "You're a locksmith." He makes a thoughtful noise. Then glances over at Roxy. "Punching people. Are you being harassed?"

Itzhak kind of leans backwards, looking over his shoulder, to read the name on the truck. "Leon." He jerks a thumb at himself, hoisting his eyebrows at Leon. "Rosencrantz. Itzhak. That there's Alexander, don't call him Alex, he'll make a face at you. A really cute face," he adds, comically sotto voce, "but you didn't hear it from me." Tugging his gloves on and strapping them tight, he nods to Joey with a grunt of the 'I hear ya' sort. Roxy patting his shoulder makes him blush again, hotter this time, and grumble something in Yiddish.

If Joey had spent time with anyone recently discharged, the workout was standard military, the type meant for fitness and keeping a holistic form for the rigors of combat. Leg day? That was par for the course in the desert, so there was little weakness there. It could be said he clearly wasn't going for body-building, this was a hardy thing for strength and practicality. Weaknesses? Flexibility, more than likely, something he was trying to combat now he had a pretty intricate trade. Hed only been out a few months, but eventually, his shoulders definitely needed work. Locksmithing was bad on posture.

"Gyre." Leon states for ths apparently curious as he tests weights, and a blank look is directed in Joey's direction at Alexander's reporting of hia trade. This was one for the obvious, it seemed. He still grinned a pretty good-naturedly. He had trouble remembering his numbers in the few months he'd gotten lazy, so it takes him some practice curls to determine before he sits downs on a bench to start, "And yeah, grew up here. Just only been back a few months."

Joey tallies his notes to file away. He does wade to the office which is the same office as the previous owner and he before him. There's a moment where he just looks at the office. He told Erin not to clean it up. What'd she do? She organized the shit out of the damn thing so well the cracked acrylic surface protector with the gouges smells like windex still. He blinks, turns and blinks again. The dust of glimmer in the room shifts slightly before turning his attention to the file cabinet and a file. There. He pulls the form out and pops it on a clipboard with a pen and walks it out to Leon. "Here, man. Don't get me sued." Which is Joey for this is the liability form that is standard to review and sign.

To Alexander the gruff gravely tone snaps right back to him without malics, "It's 2019. No Earthly miracle has happenened. I'm sure she is. Yes, Roxy, I will teach you how to say no with your bony knuckles."

Roxy looks to Alexander a little confused. "I am in a, what do they say? High-risk profession. And I do not have a vehicle. And I live in the murder motel. My neighbor, Javier, is teaching me to shoot a gun, but I'd like to know how to defend myself without one as well." She steps away from the very red Rosencrantz to grant him some space to recover. "Thank you, Joseph. I promise to be a good student," she insists.

Itzhak glances down at Roxy. "De la Vega's your neighbor, huh?" He has to give that some serious consideration. "He's a hell of a shot," is what he comes up with, and saunters over to kibbitz what Leon's doing with the weights. He's not envious, or anything, that the big guy (bigger than him!) can push so much iron.

Leon gives it a cursory once-over, seems fine with the blanket release of liability, and signs without protest. He sets about reps and resting, getting his heart going. Itzhak can watch, but there's a serene look on his face, something like deep contentment as he gets into his rhythm. Routines felt good. This was one he missed.

That said, if someone was going to watch, he'd put him to work. Done with single arm routine as warmup, he moves to set himself up to bench-press. He looks to Itzhak and tips his head, going to lay down. "Spot, trade?"

Leon had definitely overloaded the bar, a more than respectable amount Itzhak was probably already going to doubt him for. But the motherfucker actually manages to get it up once with a roar of effort. "Nope! Spot!"

Alexander has been watching, and listening to all of this in silence, standing over off to one side like a man who's attempting to work out a foreign culture by watching their television shows. His brow furrows a bit when Joey and Roxy reply to him. And, after a moment, he glances to Roxy and says, quietly, "I'm sorry. I didn't think about that." Then he crosses his arms over his chest and glances at the ring, then back to the various gymgoers. Frown. Think. Frown.

Joey takes the form and boggles to Roxy, "You're my partner. Why you need to thank me. I got you." He wades back and finds a place for the form. Right, the general inbox. That'll work. He looks around like this is my office why don't I know where stuff goes now? An even plod carries him back out. He's no soldier but he knows how to carry himself. He spots what Itzhak is doing and just stares at him. He's not going to build up anything cheating like that. It's like taking the elevator instead of the stairs. Is his new guy getting crushed? Well no and that's just good for Leon and for business. Kelly's Gym where the overeager are smooshed is bad advertising. "Got em?" He waits. Good." He turns to Roxy and tosses her a pair of small fingerless gloves that velcro on that are good for bags or sparring. "S'okay, Alexander. It's the point of raising awareness. So people now."

Roxy smiles at Itzhak. "Yes, he lives a few doors down. I would hope he is a good shot, as he is a police officer. He and Joseph have both been very kind trying to keep me safe but it is time I learned to protect myself. I do not like to burden other people." She accepts the gloves from Joey, her eyes sweeping back to Itzhak when he uses his Gift, curious. She puts the gloves on, setting her bag down in an out of the way spot, and gives Joey a smile. "That is dancing, this is not dancing. So I say thank you."

"Yeah, I'll spot ya," Itzhak says to Leon, and positions his loitering at the head of the bench. Just in time! Leon's eyes were bigger than his muscles on this one and he roars for a spot. Itzhak hastily grabs the bar and lifts it away from him as if it weighed nothing at all, setting it gently back in the rack. Like it's a foam prop and not many, many pounds of metal. "Got ya. ...What?" That's, crabbily, to Joey. "It was an emergency! Don't look at me like that, I saw you throwing around bags of gravel."

Ok, that was sort of weird, Leon was thinking, but he had been struggling. Easily dismissed, but the look that passes between the two men? Something seemed fishy. Leon opens his mind to the ambient emotions in the room, trying to gain some insight in the reactions he wasn't getting through his sight. He flexes his forearms and wrists, sitting up to stand so he can readjust the weight on the bar, "Sorry, probably need to drop twenty to thirty..." He starts slowly, his brow quirking a bit as if confused, looking from Itzhak to Joey awkwardly. "Everything ok?"

"Don't mind them," Alexander tells Leon. "They're arguing about reality and psychokinesis." Although his expression is blank, there's a bit of amusement pulsing in the air around him. And confusion, as he tries to sort out the various social interactions. Since Roxy is working with Joey, and and Itzhak is spotting Leon, he slinks off over towards the bags again, and resumes his workout. Or possibly just resumes hiding behind the bags while staring at people. His heart doesn't seem entirely into it.

Into the gym wanders one Zach. He seems a little lost at first, the look of someone who's never been here and is trying to figure out where everything is. He loiters by the doors briefly as he tries to figure out what's what, eventually nodding to himself. He's already dressed for the gym, grey tracksuit, white vest under a jacket. The jacket is carefully put to the side as he moves towards the bags. Those already in the room get a glance of interest, the man giving a general "'sup" nod before he starts stretching out.

Joey looks to Itzhak, hands up like Whadda ya want from me?! "I didn't say anything. I aint' accusing you of trying to steal my gravel, man. Move past it." Leon's safe to proceed in his workout and he focuses on Roxy's hands to make sure the gloves wrap properly pointing out what's too tight and what's too loose. When Alexander talks psychokenesis he blinks and sighs, "Don't be calling people names, man. They don't like that. Everything's fine Leon. It's the holidays which means it's cold and everyone's being pulled in 80 day directions." He shakes his head, "Shit most of our guys been hitting up here to get an hour's quiet." And there's Zach. A hand lifts and greets him and says, "That bag's still open if you're lookin for one."

Roxy pays careful attention to Joey's instruction about the gloves, much as she would expect him to pay attention at dance practice when learning a new move. She tests out the gloves, closing her hands and opening them several times, commenting on if and where they rub wrong.

"He's not calling me names, Kelly!" Itzhak hollers back at Joey, tone ratcheting up. "He's--oy, never mind. You good?" he asks Leon, whapping him lightly on the shoulder with the backs of his fingers.

Leon still looks a bit confused, but honestly, he hadn't picked up anything that really sent him past suspicious. Well, except for Alexander's comment. Nope, dont take the bait, Leon. "Yeah, fine." He finally responds, as if aurpriaed Itzhak talked. Then he shakes his head, snorts at himself and gets back to the workout, this time with an appropriate amount of weight. He'd spot in return for Itzhak, amd probably shoot some shit small talk with the other man. Once they were done working out, he would be on his way. All in all, a pretty good interaction.

There's a soft sound of reluctant amusement when Joey tosses that remark at Alexander. "You're getting a dictionary for Christmas, Kelly. Before you pop someone one for calling you redoubtable." His eyes flick over towards Zach when he comes in, and he stares at the man with narrowed eyes. "I don't know you, either," he mutters. The fact that even in a small town, he probably doesn't know every single person seems to miss him, entirely. But he seems to finish up his workout, pack up his stuff, and head out with the air of a fugitive somewhere he shouldn't be.

"Thanks man," Zach says to Joey once he's stretched out, wrapping his hands quickly and expertly as he shoots a smile to the other man. "This your place?" he asks curiously, taking a couple of careful jabs at the bag before he tweaks the wrapping with a grimace.

Joey focuses on his dance partner explaining where to go and what to warm up on and has her start on ropes, not bags actually and then get her stretching and cardio in first. Turning to Zach he dips his head in a nod. Hey not's not friendly, but he is direct as he is honest. "It is. I'm Joey. I usually got Duarte manning this shift but he got family shit he's off doing." He pauses as Alexander heads out. His jaw juts up a bit, eyes focusing o the man's amusement. "At some point we're gonna have to teach you how to threaten people with a good time man. I'll see you Tuesday." Looking to Leon he says, "Do me a favor, think about- and you don't gotta answer me now, but think about what you want your goal to be. We're gonna help you focus down on thatbut not leave anything out. We like being goal focused either for personal or professional."

Zach tilts his head in acknowledgement of the man's words. "Zach," he introduces himself simply before laying into the bag. He's practiced, clearly knows what he's doing. He's not showing off, just.. working away at that bag. Seems happy enough to do so without additional conversation, though his eyes stray across the room now and then.