Multipup! Or: Jack sucks/is lazy at HTML

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo’s back.

He’s been back for a couple of days by Bar’s reckoning, but you wouldn’t have seen him come in. As a matter of fact, you wouldn’t have seen him at all before now. He made sure of that.

He doesn’t remember much of the Overworld assault. He likes it that way, if only because he doesn’t like recalling what little he does remember. Far as he’s concerned, whatever’s left to do is in Freeman’s hands.

But. He’s back in-Bar, he’s still on active duty back home, and he needs to burn off some energy. And it’s Tuesday.

Time for Fucking Fifties.

Fifty handstand pushups, a hundred jumping lunges, fifty mountain climbers, fifty one-legged side hops, fifty eight-count bodybuilders, fifty one-legged squats, and fifty pullups, repeated five times through. He’s in the gym, working his way through it.

He was feeling lazy today, so he’s barefoot and clad only in a pair of faded sweatpants.

Rage Against the Machine’s on the stereo. The mun wouldn’t be surprised if it could be heard Bar-wide – Voodoo’s always liked his music loud.

---

That…thing, whatever the hell it was – it’s gone now, long gone.

And that’s just the way John likes it.

He’d be back in his own world right now, but he’s reluctant to leave without Jim and Kate, and even more reluctant to face the Marshal on his own. Lawman or no, John ain’t trusting the man as far as he can throw him until he’s got a feel for his character.

He’s taking a walk out by the lake, pausing every so often to take in the scenery.

---

The Camelephants are in five days, now. Bolin’s technique is solid, and so is Mako’s, but Hasook is still the same apathetic waterbender he was two days ago, still the same weak link.

It frustrates Mako to no end. And when Mako is frustrated, he trains.

Those who venture out back might see him practicing some firebending forms by the lake in a style that resembles a curious mishmash of Northern Shaolin and Western boxing. Really, though, you’d have to pull your eyes away from the flames billowing around him to make the distinction.

Come say hi. He won’t bite.

[OOC: To make it easier on all of us, please specify who you're tagging in the subject line. Thanks, and have fun!]

Comments

[boston_bruiser]

"Ain't they just. Seen a few of my own, in my time. Just wait 'til they get a figurehead. Then things'll really ramp up."

He looks at Bumi, his hands in his pockets. "That's a yoga ball. I think. Never used 'em, myself, but they're supposed to help out with some of the exercises or some shit like that."

[abitofawildman]

"So long as they don't come looking to me to fill that role. I've already spent enough of my life being the token non-bender. Enough is enough."

Bumi shifts his weight a bit.

"Yoga ball, huh? My mother and sister practice yoga, but I don't know that I've ever seen them use anything like this before."

[boston_bruiser]

"Thing might be ahead of your time," Voodoo says, leaning against one of the weight machines. "I'm guessin' it helps work your core. You ever meet a lady name of Alyx Vance, she might be able to help you with it. Seen her doin' yoga 'round the place."

He stands up. "Never got into yoga, myself. Ain't a yoga kinda guy. Too much talk about energy and spiritual crap, not enough doin' shit, y'know?"

[abitofawildman]

Bumi blinks.

Too much talk about energy and spiritual crap, not enough doin' shit...

"You've just accurately summed up my entire childhood in a single sentence. I'm impressed."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo grins. "I got a natural talent."

He nods his head toward the door. "I was thinkin' about goin' to get a midday beer. Wanna come with, see if your liver can match mine?"

[abitofawildman]

He pauses to give this offer of middday alcohol consumption some serious consideration.

"I think that's a thing that could happen," is the conclusion he comes to. "Especially if we can talk about this Alyx Vance, and where she practices her yoga."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo smirks. "That's some stalker shit right there, man."

Still, he nods. "C'mon, this way," he says, making his way to the door. "'less you're afraid of me drinking your soft commissioned ass under the table. Sir."

Egging people on? Voodoo? NEVER.

[abitofawildman]

"It's not stalking if I'm seeking her out for help with my form."

What help, or which form, isn't mentioned. Though...the grin on his face certainly helps to narrow down the options a little.

Bumi carefully rises to his feet, and straightens a couple of non-existent wrinkles from his coat.

"There is nothing soft about my ass, son. Nothing."

[boston_bruiser]

"Yeah, keep tellin' yourself that, pops."

It's a short walk to the bar, and soon enough Voodoo's plopped himself on a barstool.

"It's traditional for officers to buy. Sir."

[abitofawildman]

"All sirs on deck when it comes time for insults and tabs, huh? Typical."

He sidles up to Bar and peels a few large yuan notes from his wallet.

"If I'm paying, I'm choosing the round. Sifu Bar, we'll take two Unagi if you'd be so kind."

[boston_bruiser]

And Sifu Bar obliges.

"Hey, I recognize this shit," Voodoo says. "Saw some street vendors hawking it on Okinawa."

And with that, he digs in with one massive uncultured bite.

[abitofawildman]

"They're a specialty of Kyoshi Island, and one of the better things to put in your belly before attempting an afternoon of heavy drinking," he says picking up his chopsticks. "Rice soaks up the alcohol, and the protein from the fish keeps the stomach occupied so it doesn't revolt against drinking to excess."

He takes a bite and sighs happily.

[boston_bruiser]

"Mmn," Voodoo says, taking another bite. "Well, looks like you know how to get shitfaced after all. Who'da thunk it?"

[abitofawildman]

"No no no," he says between bites. "The goal isn't to get shitfaced, the goal is to get you shitfaced so that when the salted elephant-koi you're eating comes back to haunt you I can say you fought the Unagi and lost."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo laughs. "Good luck with that, pops. Been a sailor close to eleven years, ain't puked once."

[abitofawildman]

"Eleven whole years? Wow. That's what, half your life?"

Bumi thinks that's adorable.

[boston_bruiser]

"Three-fourths. I'm younger than I look."

[abitofawildman]

"Spirits, I have boots older than you."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo grins. "Got recruited straight outta the womb. Fast-roped down to the floor with the cord, cut it with a K-Bar, and started teething on the handle. My world's special."

[abitofawildman]

His chopsticks freeze midway between his plate and his mouth.

"I cannot tell if you're joking or not. This does not bode well for my afternoon, does it."

[boston_bruiser]

"'fraid not, sir."

Voodoo polishes off the last off his plate and casts a sidelong glance at Bumi's.


"You gonna eat the rest of that?"

[abitofawildman]

Bumi sees that sidelong glance, and narrows his eyes.

"It's dangerous to try and get between a Water Tribesman and his food."

In his younger days, before he earned all those shiny medals, Bumi used to make a habit of answering such questions by biting the one doing the asking.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo looks from Bumi to the plate and back again.


Then shrugs.

"And?"

Self-preservation? What's that?

[abitofawildman]

"I wasn't, but now I'm going to just to spite you. And because feeding you drinks through a straw after they wire your jaw shut won't be as fun for me."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo's giving you puppydog eyes, Bumi.

It's quite pathetic, really.