Monday, May 11th, 2015

gym; monday morning

Monday, May 11th, 2015 09:37 am
flickofthewrist: (pure morning)
[personal profile] flickofthewrist
Well, so much for any kind of training Flick had had previously when it came to fighting. That was all out the window today. It was amazing what anger and moodiness did for one's self control. He didn't want to be precise and efficient. He just wanted to punch.

So, that's what he was doing. Punching. The heavy bag wasn't as good a substitute as going out and finding someone to taunt into a fight was but he wasn't that far gone. He just knew he was angry and he wanted to get it out before he took it out on someone who didn't deserve it.

His poor hands were already red and they probably didn't deserve that but he already felt a little better than he had yesterday and much better than Saturday. But, he figured he'd keep up the routine for awhile longer until he was exhausted, body and mind, and then he'd take a nap or go to New York or something.

[Open place/post]
soniaroadsqueen: (straight at you)
[personal profile] soniaroadsqueen
It had required moving some furniture around in order to create the space necessary, but Ringo had managed to lay down a big white sheet on the floor and pin its corners with some large boxes. She'd even had boxes left over, and those were stacked near the edge of the area she'd blocked off.

Most of the boxes were open, too, and revealed their contents to be hundreds of tiny different bits of metal. Ringo had asked Ume to send her AT parts, and Ume had delivered in spades. She had enough pieces here to put together dozens pairs. Sometimes, apparently, little sisters were good for something after all!

Of course so many boxes had taken a lot of work to get up to the fifth floor, and she hoped no one had been annoyed as she had painstakingly moved one box at a time from the lobby.

Now Ringo was sitting in the middle of that white sheet, her smile matched by some happy humming as her hands rapidly swapped out small screwdrivers for tiny wrenches and the pile of precisely-machined metal in front of her began to take shape.

Every so often some screw or gear would slip from her fingers, and she'd have to put down what she had so far and find it. Fortunately, the sheet was very, very clean, and practically nothing blended in against it. So soon enough she'd be back to humming and assembling, and she was almost done with the first unit.

[Open!]

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