milliways_bar | (no subject)

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This was supposed to be the corridor between the Kwoon Combat Room and the men's locker room.

It is not.

Pentecost sighs, a faint sound of irritation just barely audible over the noises of Bar, and looks around for somewhere to set his practice gear down. Ideally, he'd like to find somewhere to practice, but this place hasn't quite struck him as a potential location for that kind of work yet.

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"There's a heavy bag hung up out back," offers Alyx. She'd show him where it is, but her lap is occupied by a toddler at the moment.

"Is there?" Pentecost glances up. "I'll give it a look. I was hoping for a more controlled environment to practice some basic form in first, but strength training wouldn't be a bad idea."

Consistency of form depends on having a body strong enough to maintain evenness of action, after all.

"I don'[t imagine this place has any kind of indoor facilities?"

"There's a gym, too, but I don't know if it's really geared toward combat training..."

"I'll give it a look anyway," Pentecost says. Then, glancing at the toddler: "Who's this?"

He's not, and hasn't ever been, a particularly sentimental man. But small children do tend to catch the eye.

"This," says Alyx, "is my daughter Hope. Hope, this is Mister Pentecost. Say hi."

"Hiih!" says Hope, waving a chubby hand at Stacker.

He smiles, a brief, faint thing, and raises a hand in reply. "Hello, Hope," he says. "Do you and your mother come here often?"

"Yah!" says Hope. "Got goofoo!"

"They do indeed," says Pentecost. "Much better than the rations in Anchorage."

He glances over at Alyx.

"I hope I'm not disturbing anything."

"Mm, not really," says Alyx. "We were just getting ready to read a book together."

(Alyx would be doing the actual reading, of course. Hope isn't that advanced for her age.)

He nods. "Don't let me keep you, then," he says. "It was good to see you again."

(He's not trying to be rude, but he was operating on a schedule, and he prefers to keep consistency in his daily affairs where he can.)

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