fandomhighdorms | Gym, Saturday afternoon

Gym, Saturday afternoon

After a highly unsatisfactory 'exchange' with Logan Echolls, Walter needed to work off some steam before he exchanged something else with someone, like a fist. What he really needed was someone he could beat on or even better, something he could cut up. Instead he was making the punching bag wish it had never been sewn into existence.

[ooc: open to all, just need to put Walter somewhere he might not get in a fight. Unless you feel like getting in a fight, in which case, feel free.]

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Cally hadn't been paying complete attention to Walter and Logan's exchange, but she knows when somebody leaves in not the best of moods. So, after excusing herself politely, she figures that Walter might need someone more... friendly to talk to.

She raises an eyebrow at the tenacity Walter is employing against the punching bag.

"Whoa, what'd that poor bag ever do to you, huh?"

"Nothing." Walter scowled at the bag and stopped hitting it. "It's nothing. People do stupid things and I am not responsible for taking care of them."

Cally frowns a little, then takes a step or two forward. "I've found most people around here are pretty good at taking care of themselves. Might do stupid things once in a while, but who doesn't?" Cally nods, then smiles.

"You want me to hold the bag for you? I'll keep it as steady as possible. Just gotta promise not to hit me."

Walter nodded. "I promise I won't hit you."

He hit the bag and flexed his wrist carefully. Probably not the best of ideas, but still. "Stupid that gets you detention is one thing."

He tried again with his right. "Stupid that gets you killed is another."

Cally nods and takes up position on the opposite side of the bag, bracing it with her shoulder. "Last I checked, though, we're an almost casualty-free school. Which is kinda amazing, given the zombies and things."

"Yeah." Walter lets loose a flurry of blows at the bag before stepping back, shaking his left hand slightly.

"I'm used to taking care of things. And seeing people get hurt in an area that's my specialty..." He hit the bag with a hard right and followed up with a fast back kick. "I guess it's a hot button for me."

"Ohhhhhh," Cally says, having the situation kind of dawn on her. "Yeah. I'm kinda miffed at them myself, since they were being all secrety and not telling me, which I guess is kinda the definition of secrety, but I think you know what I mean." She reaches up and rubs her shoulder for a sec.

"Wow, you certainly throw quite a punch."

"They must get these bags someplace special to take the punishment they have to take around here," Walter said, smiling a little.

"There are people here I really like a lot and I haven't seen a lot of them today. I don't even know if some of them are in this secret group that went and nearly got killed." Walter tried a hard left and winced.

"So I guess you could say I'm angry about that, too." He stopped and looked at Cally in puzzlement.

"Are you usually this good at getting people to talk?"

"I guess I have a friendly face, or something." Cally shrugs. "I know for a fact I'm gonna be checking in on all the folks I've been missing the past week, sometime this weekend. Cause I care. Not gonna do any good to yell at 'em, like I want to, I figure. Just want to make sure they're okay."

"So, I take it you're a professional when it comes to the pointy-teethed?"

"Yeah. It's what I do back home when I'm not trying to keep Arthur from... you don't want to know." He rolled his eyes and smirked.

"You're right, though. Yelling at them isn't going to help, and they are alive, so they've lived to learn from it." Even if he wanted to. "Good thing I'm not someone's parent, I guess."

"Having met some other folks' parents? You should be very glad you aren't them," Cally says with a laugh. "You should've gotten a load of Bridge's guardian. Walking, talking, big blue dog thing."

"Big blue dog thing? Okay, that has Arthur Hellsing beat without any question." After being at Fandom, though, he wasn't actually questioning her sanity about the statement.

"Yeah, I didn't really get the chance to talk to him... it... whatever, but I saw it. I spent more time talking to Lee's dad, that weekend." Cally stops bracing the punching bag and smiles. "So, Arthur Hellsing's the name of your dad?"

"No. He's just my guardian." Walter didn't know whether to laugh or cringe at the idea of Arthur being his father. "My father's name was also Walter."

"Oh, cool. So, are you a junior, then? I mean, not in the class sense, but, like, the name sense? Or do you get to be really lucky and be, like, the second, or the third, and get to put numerals behind your name?" Cally giggles. "Me, I'm just stuck with probably the worst name short of Samuel Throgmorten Anders. But you didn't hear that from me."

Walter shook his head and tried not to smirk. "No, no junior or numberals. And I think Throgmorten is a perfectly distinguished name."

Or maybe he just didn't want to throw stones at someone else's middle name.

"Yeah, but how about Veruca Rosemary? Now there's a name that shouts 'my mother didn't love me', if there ever was one." Cally grins.

"Veruca?" Walter couldn't help glancing down at his feet. "I'm sorry."

He looked around shiftily and leaned forward, feeling bad for the girl named for a foot growth. "I can do you one better if you promise never to tell anyone."

"Can't promise not telling anyone. But Anders and I are really good at keeping secrets, if you can agree to that." Cally puts on her best 'I'm trustworthy' face.

"Cause I can't promise to keep secrets from my boy, you know?"

"Well, if it gets around, I'll know to look to you two for bribes not to strangle you." Walter looks mostly joking.

He looks around again and leans forward to say in a very low voice, ~~completely forgetting the joys of radio~~, "My full name is Walter cum Dornez."

Cally is not the pinnacle of maturity on the best of days. So she tries her best to cover up her giggles and starts coughing instead.

"I'm... hoo boy, Sorry. Ouch."

Walter shakes his head and pulls a face at her, "I told you! I won't forget Veruca Rosemary or Throgmorten. We may have to start a bad names club."

"Yeah, but where are we going to find a sponsor for that?" Cally gets a hold of herself and smiles. "Well, I guess there's Miss Skeeter. And The Doctor, who doesn't even really have a name." Cally shrugs. "I guess there's always Dean Zordon. He sounds like he's the villain from a bad sci-fi movie or something."

"Just as well we don't." Walter half-heartedly gave the bag another kick and fished his pocketwatch out of his waistcoat.

"I need to open the restaurant. Thanks," he nodded toward the bag although he meant more, "for the help."

"Least I could do," Cally says and gives a little wave. "Catch you later."

"Right, I'll see you." Time to get to work. Walter didn't want to think about what Alfred would do if he opened the restaurant late.

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Gym, Saturday afternoon

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