OPEN

[2leftfeet]

CHARACTERS: Shepard & YOU
LOCATION: Various
WARNINGS: N/A, will edit if necessary
SUMMARY: Catch all for pre-recon
NOTES: Feel free to wildcard the starter or contact me for something else if you're not feeling any of the ones I have up! Prose or action aokay.


I. DECK 023 REC ROOM

[The rec room farthest to stern on 23 has slowly been rigged into a hub for these recon missions, couches and low tables pushed around into a semblance of order and and video screen son the wall mainly re-purposed for going over and archiving data. She and a few unlucky volunteers have most categorized everything workable from the last recon, but she's clearly expecting more work in the future and has pinned down the space for the foreseeable future.

Anyone who isn't a volunteer for recon is likely to be on the receiving end of a steady, sidelong look and a pointed 'Looking for something?' There's something honed down and steely about her that mostly does a serviceable job of chasing anyone not totally determined out. For anyone part of the mission or looking to speak to Shepard in person, her kitbashed war room is the safe first bet as she can usually be found there sitting on one of the couches, one leg tucked up under herself, absently worrying her teeth against the inside of her cheek as she carefully sorts through reports and messages from various sources.

They're leaving on round two soon and there's still a lot of crap to get sorted.]

II. GYM

[Not holding the fort down in the rec-room-turned-war-room? Better check the nearest gym. Call her single minded, but there's something pleasant about the work: if not paper work, then running herself ragged (literally) as she jogs carefully timed, deliberate laps around the outside of the large room. Most of it's just practice: moving through form and technique with a certain level of aptitude brought along by years of practice, though she'll jump at the chance should a sparring partner show their face.

She'd give her right hand to be spending more time in gunnery but with limited ammunition, she's not going to burn through her reserve on target practice. This though? She can run her body pretty hard when she wants to.]

III. WASHROOM

[Freshly showered, dressed in an undershirt and jumpsuit with the arms of the latter tied around her waist, she's standing in front of one of the many sinks in the communal washroom and patiently wringing her hair out over the sink. It must be off hours; there's no one else in the bathroom and it's... quiet. Bone deep. Residual warmth from the steam of the shower trapped by the seal of the door clings to the faucets and the edge of the mirrors, her skin. Her hair's gotten long, she thinks somewhat suddenly an frowns at the dark, uneven ends in her fist. She needs a haircut. Thinks maybe she should just hack it all off.

And for a moment, Shepard straightens - lets the towel in her other hand sag around her shoulders - to regard herself in the mirror. She thinks she looks strange with her hair down as it is. Carefully drawing it up, N7 dogtags clinking around her neck, she squints at her reflection and tries to imagine what it'd look like cut short.

The moment the hatch yawns open to admit another passenger, she makes to snap her hands down.]

Comments

THE GYM!!!

[wiped]

[ so thomas has no idea what to do in the gym.

he's hovering by a set of weights, looking out of place. they aren't leaving yet, and thomas can't glue himself to teresa, as much as he might like to. ( maybe he could. but he's too embarrassed to consider it. ) so he's wandering, ended up in the gym because that's where his feet took him. he doesn't know how to operate most of the machines, and his formal training for anything had mostly been, run fast and don't die.

thomas is good at both of those things, but he's pretty certain shepard wants more from him. or maybe she just wants him out of her way, because he nearly collides with her when he walks into the room. ]

Sorry, sorry! I didn't see you coming.

[ smooth as fuck, right. ]

[2leftfeet]

[Sure, real smooth. We're talking an overland ride in the Mako smooth and that's, what, only the cause of approximately half the neck injuries sustained in the service?

Shepard just quick enough on her feet to avoid trampling him completely, though there's no avoiding clipping shoulder to shoulder. She reaches out by instinct to catch at his arm, deciding at the last moment to steady Thomas instead of just dumping him backwards. You're welcome.]

What the hell're you doing?

[Sharper than she really means (maybe) due to the suck of air necessary to get it out.]

[wiped]

[ thomas being underfoot is just a thing. it's just how it is. this is maybe more literal than usual, but it's par for the course. alby wouldn't have even blinked. shepard's a little like him, sharp, efficient, but it's not--

things are different in small ways. this isn't the glade, but it feels like it sometimes, and sometimes the people on board feel like gladers. sometimes it makes thomas homesick, and wasn't that just shucking stupid? ]

I was looking for something to do.

[ what else is new. ]

I thought maybe there'd be something in here I could try. Maybe help me survive out there?

[ he tacks it on like thomas isn't sure it's the right thing to say. surviving has always been on a wing and prayer. preparation went into other things. ]

[2leftfeet]

Punching manticores apparently isn't the recommended approach.

[Subtle digs at Edgeworth where no one will notice them for five hundred.

Rocking back onto her heels, she takes a moment to swallow the knot of exertion high in her chest. Sucks in a breath and scrapes her hair back from her forehead (wildly unnecessary, but clearly habitual). Shepard tosses a glance in toward the machines.]

But a little cross training never killed anyone.

[wiped]

[ manticores, grievers. just one more thing that was too alike. there were always monsters in the maze, no matter if the maze was on a spaceship or surrounding the glade. thomas raises one shoulder in a shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. ]

I figured. If they're anything like grievers it wouldn't matter anyway.

[ though punching the griever had been more about getting stung than anything. so mission accomplished, in that respect. ]

Cross-training?

[ off to a promising start... ]

[2leftfeet]

Cross training. [Repeated for emphasis, as if saying the words again might get them through whatever's standing between them and Thomas.]

Learning to do something other than run.

[wiped]

I know how to do other things.

[ faintly defensive, though he knows exactly what she means. this isn't like the glade, where he learned what everyone else did before he did anything with the runners. his expression is a little mulish, but he follows after her obediently. that's something, at least. ]

I logged all that time on the gun range like you told me to.

[2leftfeet]

[Well that's something.]

Good. Jax Teller say he's sick of your face yet?

[There's no heat there as she moves in among the gym equipment, picking one of the machines largely at random. She makes a point of dropping the weight limit to one of the decidedly lower notches. He might be able to run like a bat out of hell, but do you even lift bro etc.]

[wiped]

[ oh no streams are crossing. ]

That's a lot of weight.

[ thomas sounds extremely apprehensive. he's not alby, doesn't have the thickly muscled arms he'd seen in some of the other gladers. it had never mattered. he was slim and fast, so what if he couldn't lift? ]

Why's lifting that much important?

[2leftfeet]

You can run, right? But if you get stuck somewhere, you might need something other than a fast set a legs.

[She knock the toe of her foot against his foot for emphasis.]

We don't really have any idea what's out there. Having a little of both is better. --Colbert's running you through sparring forms, right?

[wiped]

You said manticores were out there.

[ like grievers, or that's what thomas was thinking of. grievers by a different name were still grievers, served the same purpose. this was a maze with different walls. thomas hadn't had any preparation there, but none of them had. a bunch of kids in a maze, doing the best they could. he wonders if it mattered, learning any of this. did he get to take it back? was he allowed to take it back? ]

Yeah. Some. Is he always so quiet?

[ because these are absolutely the important questions rn. ]

[2leftfeet]

If you somehow get more than ten words out of him at a time, consider me impressed.

[She accordingly shifts the latch up a bit, dropping the weight limit considerably before she stoops to pat the bench. Not gonna lift itself, kid.]

[wiped]

[ thomas looks from her to the bench, skeptical. he isn't sure he can lift that. thomas manages to do some wild shit, but always under duress, adrenaline flooding his system. he jitters for a moment, then sits where she patted. ]

You're not going to let it crush me?

[2leftfeet]

I'd be down a man on recon if I did that.

[So, no. She's officially too shorthanded to lose Thomas in a tragic freak gym equipment accident.]

[wiped]

[ that's not super comforting, but it's enough to get thomas on the bench. blah blah weight lifting how does it work, anyway it's clear that this is a bit much for him. it's not like thomas was underfed, but frypan hadn't exactly been the pinnacle of nutritious eating. thomas is wiry and lean, but weight training had been mostly beyond him.

he manages like two reps before he has to stop, straining with the weights. this probably doesn't look great, but thomas doesn't know what else to do. it's what he's capable of. ]