Deck | Friday After Lunch

[wheeler-360.livejournal.com]

Marshall had a sheaf of printouts with him, a collection of pages on proper exercise and stretching that he'd printed out from a link sent to him by Corrine after he'd emailed her to ask her to ask Vaughn to check his email, since he hadn't gotten a response from Vaughn and figured that he probably just wasn't, y'know, as obsessive about checking it as Lucas Corrine some people he knew.

So, y'know, stretching. Between Outdoor Fitness on Mondays and Zombies on Wednesday -- and the homework for Zombies, ugh -- Marshall figured he might as well do things right, so he was trying to follow along with the print-outs as he stretched in preparation for a run. 'Trying' should be stressed; it's not like he had all that much experience, after all.

Please, someone come and help him. Or point and laugh; that works, too.

[Open deck is open! Tautological sentence is tautological!]

Comments

[necroslacker]

When Marshall stammered, Sam wondered if he'd hit a sore spot but he wasn't gonna push especially on a first meeting.

"I dropped out of school so I had to fend for myself for awhile. And considering I thought that meant getting a job at a fast food joint, my clothes often smelled like grease which meant many late nights at the laundromat. I still think I smell like grease sometimes."

[wheeler-360.livejournal.com]

Not a sore spot, so much as that Marshall felt a little flustered over the fact that, if not rich, he was still well-off enough to not worry about things like whether he was spending his money on laundry or food. It felt a little awkward to be all, 'Yeah, I went to this private school with uniforms.'

Marshall took an exaggerated sniff. "No, no grease," he assured Sam, offering a smile. "Must have done enough laundry."

[necroslacker]

"Or taken enough showers," he quipped easily. "I haven't really worked there in months but the smell kind of sticks even if I was banned from fryer. You burn a few burgers and you're permanently stuck at the register, taking orders. So unfair."

[wheeler-360.livejournal.com]

"Oh, completely," Marshall agreed. "Totally unfair!"

He leaned back, stopping the stretching. "So where're you from?" he asked. "Anywhere near here?"

[necroslacker]

"Seattle. I'd say it's halfway across the country but considering where we are, I don't think that's true anymore. Halfway across the world maybe?"

He didn't do geography. He'd known where his apartment was and that was good enough. "What about you? Close by?"

[wheeler-360.livejournal.com]

Marshall shook his head. "Ottawa. It's, uh, up north? Canada."

[necroslacker]

"Never been. Heard it's cold though," Sam quipped with a light smile. "How'd you end up down here? Pretty long trip for you, isn't it? Passports and customs and all that time consuming stuff."

[wheeler-360.livejournal.com]

"It is not cold!" Marshall fumed. "I mean, okay, during the winter, yes, but it's not like it's the Arctic or anything! We have hot summers!"

Not that this was a sore spot or anything.

[Off for at least a couple of hours -- SP?]

[necroslacker]

"No offense meant, no offense meant," Sam said hastily, holding up a hand. "Guess you hear that a lot, don't you? It's gotta be either that or quips about hockey."

[Works for me since I'm probably gonna have to sleep soon!]

[wheeler-360.livejournal.com]

Marshall nodded. "Usually at the same time," he explained. "Sorry, didn't mean to bite your head off.

"Although I guess when you use a sane temperature scale, you have to forgive people when they think it drops seventy degrees the minute you cross the border."

[necroslacker]

"No, no, it's okay," Sam said, waving off the apology. "It's cool. I think every place has their stereotypes. Canada's are just more...well known than other places. Cold, hockey and maybe good bottled water. Seattle's just got rain and a sucky football team."