ext_251133 (
cantgetnorelief.livejournal.com) wrote in
fandomhighdorms2005-09-21 06:26 pm
In the Gym: One-on-None
Anders has been in the gym for three hours now. He's staked out a corner of the basketball court and rigged an odd-looking oblong frame about eight feet tall, with a bucket suspended about five and a half feet up. The makeshift goal stands between him and the rest of the gym, forming a triangle: one third of a Pyramid court. It's quiet except for the squeaking of his shoes, an occasional grunt, and the muted thud of a Pyramid ball ricocheting off the walls and floor. Every now and then a metallic clang echoes across the gym when the ball lands in the bucket. Normally it would be a more frequent sound, but it's tough when the goal is a jury-rigged mess of broomsticks and jumpropes instead of the standard solid panel.
He does a spin-move around an imaginary opponent, throws the ball hard into the corner, then cuts sharply to make a dash for the goal. The ball ricochets off the wall and into his hand, and then it's just a stutter-step to the left and a flick of the wrist.
Clang. Ball into bucket, and that's goal. He retrieves the ball, wipes his forehead, and starts all over again.
There's not much challenge in this kind of practice; it's more like self-gratification, really. Playing with fancy moves that might or might not work in a game situation. Nobody to trip you up or nudge you just enough to send your shot offline. The impossibility of reading the moves of an opponent who just isn't there. But it's familiar, and it's comforting; he knows these sounds and these moves so well, which is more than he can say for so many things about this school. If he can just get into the rhythm a little bit more, crank up the energy a notch, ratchet up the difficulty level one more time, maybe he can shut off his brain and imagine he's back home.
Well, except for this frakking substandard excuse for a court.
He does a spin-move around an imaginary opponent, throws the ball hard into the corner, then cuts sharply to make a dash for the goal. The ball ricochets off the wall and into his hand, and then it's just a stutter-step to the left and a flick of the wrist.
Clang. Ball into bucket, and that's goal. He retrieves the ball, wipes his forehead, and starts all over again.
There's not much challenge in this kind of practice; it's more like self-gratification, really. Playing with fancy moves that might or might not work in a game situation. Nobody to trip you up or nudge you just enough to send your shot offline. The impossibility of reading the moves of an opponent who just isn't there. But it's familiar, and it's comforting; he knows these sounds and these moves so well, which is more than he can say for so many things about this school. If he can just get into the rhythm a little bit more, crank up the energy a notch, ratchet up the difficulty level one more time, maybe he can shut off his brain and imagine he's back home.
Well, except for this frakking substandard excuse for a court.

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[OOC: You're still here!]
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[[ooc: long story]]
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*kicks Lee's ass, oh yes*no subject
*however, really enjoys it as OMG pyramid! full contact slashiness!*
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*notices Cally sitting in the gym*
Oh, hang on a minute, man. *hands ball to Lee*
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::decides it's best to just stay quiet and wait until Anders notices her... and hopefully not Lee::
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Hey. You feeling better now?
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Yeah... I'm sorry about earlier... It was just... It was a lot. And it all happened so fast... I was scared, and I'm sorry for just shutting you out.
::smiles::
Forgive me?
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*rubs at the back of his neck*
If I did anything, I didn't mean to. So . . . sorry.
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Just something that I'd rather forget, that's all. And my wrist wishes didn't happen.
::raises her left arm, and shows a bruised ring around her wrist::
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Is everything okay now?
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::glances over at Lee, scowling for a second::
::whispers:: Sorry about that...
::back in normal voice::
I'm okay now, yeah. Talked things over, got settled down. Got my key back... only permanent damage is one broken pair of handcuffs. ::soft chuckle::
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Handcuffs? If you want 'em fixed, there's this guy Bridge on our floor, you know, with the robot dog? Fixing them would probably be easy for him. If he remembers what day it is. Nice guy, but real flaky.
You know, I thought you were mad at -- wait, what is this about Cameron's nose?
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Lee punched him in the nose... atleast, that's what Cameron said. And with all the stuff about Cameron and Kara, I gotta say I believe it.
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*embarrassed laugh* I'm so out of touch.
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"Hey, Lee." She tilts her head. "Want to play pyramid?"
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*DEATH pauses in thought and adds for good measure*
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