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[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

They're going soon- not today, but soon. Harry Wells can feel it in his bones as surely as if it were the fulling of the moon. They'll head back to his world and make their assault on Gruinard Island, and that will be that. No more planning bar the last phase, the one he plans to undertake alone.

Well- as close to alone as possible. Somehow he's got the feeling the only way Coop will let him go to the Ministry on his own is if he's unconscious, physically incapacitated, and guarded by that ninja bloke with the motorcycle. And even that's uncertain.

At the moment, though, there's a knot of anxiety in the muscles of Wells' back. He's never been very good at dispelling that kind of thing through breathing or meditation or whatever the latest trend is. Generally, he prefers physical means. Thus he's got a fair-sized punching bag, and he's heading outside to find somewhere to set it up and use it. Indoors isn't appealing to him just now.

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[futures_of_ash]

There's a red-haired woman sitting on the verge of the lake, just staring over the waters it seems, and occassionally sipping from a bottle. She's oddly eye catching, for all her quiet self-absorption, and the breeze blowing past her may occassionally flicker with flame...

[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

Wells stops in the process of setting up his bag. That's new.

Well, she's upwind of him; no harm done by sniffing, right? Does he know that smell? Or is her smell just the smell of fire and smoke? Not that that would be unusual. He's got a patron who has nothing of the human to his scent, just fire and iron and all the other elements of forges.

[futures_of_ash]

Her scent is one that's laced the Bar upon occassion, but most often the lake. Flame and smoke and blood, pain and joy and power...and maybe, just maybe under all that, there's something close to human too.

[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

Hm. Not one he recognises, but not one that'd necessarily be bad to know. All right.

He jams the stand he was going to use for the bag into the ground and sets the bag itself to one side. "Afternoon, miss."

[futures_of_ash]

Rachel tilted her head back at thwe greeting, turning just enough to actually look at him for politeness sake. The smile she offered was small, distracted perhaps, and oddly tangible. Like warm, bittersweet chocolate on the tongue. "Hello, not bothering you am I?"

[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

"Not at all," says Wells. "Wanted t'make sure I wasn't about t'bother you, actually. I was just setting up-"

He jerks his head towards where the exercise rig lies.

[futures_of_ash]

If anything the smile brightens slightly, but she shakes her head "No, I'm fine, I can't claim the whole lake after all."

Then her gaze traced to the exercise equipment curiously "Want a hand?"

[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

"Sure, if you like," says Wells.

(There's a part of him that's sort of wondering whether Hephaestos didn't finally have a child or a grandchild after all. It's the familiarity of smell.)

"Used one of these before?" he asks.

[futures_of_ash]

She carefully set the bottle aside and stood, brushing off her ragged jeans. There may be the briefest flash of scarred legs through a hole or two, or the slick skin along her arms as the sleeves move...certainly doesn't help argue against the breeding case does it?

"Team had a gym" she remarked easily. "So I know the basics of setting up at least"

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

You are a lucky man, Mister Wells. A very lucky man. There is a gal outside with a football, and she'll be very happy to help you burn off some of that energy, running circles around you the whole way.

In other words, Ace, with a football, on the pitch. Looking bored.

That is never a good combination.

[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

Oho.

That's even better than beating the shit out of the heavy bag.

"Oi, Ace!" he calls, the weight shifted a little to make it easier to carry. "Up for a pounding?"

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

"If you mean me runnin' y'lardbutt into the ground, sounds good t'me!" Ace calls back cheekily. "Workin' on your Quasimodo impression?"

[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

For answer, Wells sets down the stand and heaves the bag off his shoulder. It makes a very satisfying thud. "Not hardly. I was going to work on boxing today. Gets the blood moving, clears out the brain," he explains. "But I can always make time in my schedule to kick your arse."

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

"Awww, too bad y'll never get the chance, yeah?" She mock-sympathizes, bouncing the ball from one foot to the other impatiently. "Always a bridesmaid an' never a bride, is that it?"

[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

"Old age and treachery is no match for youth and more treachery," Wells shoots back as he heads out onto the pitch. "You watch."

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

"See, there's y'problem right there, y'think this game's about watchin'." She drawls, weaving backwards as he comes closer. "Watchin' an' pickin' daisies out in the goalie box, yeah?"

[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

"I was thinkin' more watchin' the look on your face as you realise it's all over bar the screaming," Wells returns. "But sure, if that's how y'want to spend your time. Come on, now. Let's get this party started, hey?"

He makes a mental note not to start taunting people in their native accents again. That got him in trouble a while back in England. Oh well.

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

And, at the moment, Svava's on her way back to the bar herself, after a jog around the lake. She, Clarice and Alanna, and then possibly a few others, have worn a couple paths doing so, by now. The punching bag is noted curiously, and Svava gives Wells a nod and smile.

"Good day, then, Wells- and how does it go for you?"

[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

Wells looks up from a kidney blow to the bag and smiles back. "Well enough," he says. "Thought I should get in a bit of practise before the big show went down. How about yourself?"

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

"A run around the lake-" Svava motions to the paths seen at the edge of the woods. "Then probably some practice as well. The sword I have now isn't the one I've had been for, so its taking a bit of work to get used to the differences."

A slow nod, thinking. "I should go over some of the battle spells with Archie- I don't think he's ever had to use them for something like this, yet."

[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

"Wise idea. I've had to drill him and Sharpe in the use of the semiautomatic pistol- they're good marksmen but it's no gun they've ever handled. What's yer sword like, anyways? I never did get training in sharp objects longer than a survival knife."

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

"Nothing as threatening or as intimidating as the blades others do carry in here." She chuckles, wryly. "Double edged, short, one handed- I don't think what I know would work for something too much different."

"But they're both learning your type of gun, well enough?"

[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, it's not that bad. Had to break 'em of the habit of wanting to cock the hammer on every shot. The kick's not near so bad as what they're used to, though- nor's the smell." Wells grins. "If this goes well, Archie might be welcome to keep the pistol. That one's more of a nuisance to me now than anything- the sound and the smoke's more than the werewolf senses like, and I've got another."

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

"He's still more used to such things." Svava laughs quietly. "I don't think I'd have the patience to learn much on those- though they do work well, from what I've seen."

[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

"They do indeed, but I'm keeping the full-auto one for myself," Wells says. "Since we're not going in on a claws-and-fangs night. I'll be armoured as well- same set I wore to get out of here without being blown to smithereens. If I had another set I'd loan it to one of you, but there's only the one."