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Atlas Gym, Monday, Early Evening

Reno was in A Mood.

That kind of mood that gets you all twitchy and angry. The one that makes you want to beat things. It went hand-in-hand with the fact that he hadn't had his mag-rod out in two months, really.

So Reno had found his way to the gym, and he was going to spend the whole night swinging his favorite electric metal pipe around in rage.

Barefoot. As you do.

[Open for great grumpy Turk justice.]

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There was a Slayer, leaning against one of the pillars, taking in the sight.

And smoking, right next to one of the No Smoking signs. Fuck it.

"You got any clue what you're doing with that thing?" she asked. Conversationally enough. He could hit for a damn, and he was fast, but kid's form was a little lacking. As in, nonexistent.

"Beat on shit until it stops movin', pretty straightforward to me," Reno said, glancing at that chick from the bar out of the corner of his eye before giving one of the heavy bags a good whomp for good measure.

"You're throwing that thing around like an epileptic who skipped his meds," she said dryly. "If you didn't leave your stance open, you'd get kicked in the gut less often."

She cracked one arm and then the other, taking a drag from her cigarette.

"You figure?" Reno straightened up some, letting his EMR rest on his shoulder. "You wanna show me how it's done, then, since you know all about how to beat on shit with a metal stick?"

Faith shook her head quickly. "In a mood," she said. Renee had been gone for days and she hadn't heard shit. Not that she was worried. Fuck. "Shouldn't be sparring tonight."

She tossed her cigarette to the ground and stubbed it, then started pacing.

"Yeah? That'd make two of us." Reno rolled his eyes and gave the heavy bag another good smack, and then followed it up with a roundhouse kick that'd bust the jaw clean off of anyone too stupid to leave their face there. "Whatever. Don't need to spar. I'll just kill the gym equipment instead, zoto."

"Not bad," she said, taking in the kick. "You a mutant, alien, demon kinda thing, or just a normal person who likes to kick ass?"

"Mostly normal," Reno replied, giving the bag another good kick. "Touch of Mako helps. Kick ass for a living." And there, because his EMR was feeling left out, poor thing, he smacked the bag around with that again.

Beating on shit: Therapeutic.

"Slayer," Faith said. No clue what Mako was, but she'd heard weirder. "Kick ass as a calling. Don't get paid for it. Council totally shafted us there."

She rolled her neck. "You got any kind of healing shit going?"

Really shouldn't be considering what she was considering.

"Couple hi-potions. Picked 'em up last week when I went back home." Kick the bag again, and then return to his casual slouch, EMR resting on his shoulder. "Healing spell in a bottle, basically. Tastes like shit, but it works, yo."

"Seriously?" She folded her arms. "Mine's organic. Nice and cheap that way. So, uh, you're saying ... if I accidentally rearrange your spine, you're all good?"

Faith stretched again. Sometimes being a Slayer meant you had to ask this shit, okay?

"Had a shitload worse done to me than a rearranged backbone," Reno scoffed.

Yes, he was allowed to whine about a sore ass after a tattoo. It was entirely different.

Do not break the students, Faith. Dawnie might get upset if some of them are missing spleens.

... fuck it.

"You in the mood to hit something that hits back?"

"You volunteering?"

It was good to make sure, here, before swinging a length of metal pipe at someone.

"Think I am," she said coolly. "I get a weapon, too, or you just gonna try to take me out with the stick?"

"Your call," Reno replied, shrugging his shoulders dismissively. "You wanna let me smack you around unarmed, go for it. Or you could grab a weapon. Or I could put down the mag-rod and punch you. But damn, haven't had it in my hands in two months. Rather not take it off, yoto."

"Don't figure you want me chasing you with a stake," she laughed.

Blood on his shirt and bubbling out of his lips, I didn't know, I didn't --

Fuck. Great. Exactly what she needed, that shit coming up again. She shook her head quickly. "Could always just start. If I need one, I take yours."

Reno snorted and rolled up his sleeve just enough to demonstrate that his EMR was actually strapped to his cuff.

"It's attached. I think takin' it's gonna be a bit tricky." A somewhat sick sort of grin twitched across his lips. "Might get painful, yo."

Would make things interesting.

"Had a knife once, made that kinda thing a snap," she smirked. "Couldn't cut through handcuffs, but it'd sure as fuck cut through bone."

It ... wasn't a very pleasant smirk, either.

"You give me five to get weapons and make sure you don't wanna pussy out," she called, stepping out of the gym.

Edited 2008-03-04 04:28 (UTC)

Reno laughed and shook his head, beating on the bag some more while he waited.

Pussy out? Like hell. He was a Turk, dammit. He'd be right where she left him when she came back.

Faith returned in three and a half minutes with two stylized daggers, one in each hand.

He didn't need a formal invitation to start the proceedings, did he? Because she was going to run up to him and aim a roundhouse kick for the middle of his back.

Oh, come on. He was cranky, not deaf. He stepped forward and ducked to avoid the kick, and then he spun around, mag-rod first, aiming to hit whatever the hell might still be where she had been when she aimed that kick.

Oh, it was on.

She spun out of the kick, sweeping an arm up to block his pipe with one of her daggers. It made a nice clank!

"The hell is that thing, anyway?" she asked, nodding to it. Curiosity and all that.

"Electro-Mag Rod," Reno replied. It did make a nice sound! "Big fancy talk for 'metal stick that zaps shit,' yo."

Now was as good a time as any to attempt to kick her in the guts, right?

"Kinky," Faith said, hopping back as his toes smashed into her stomach. "Barefoot? This some kinda Zen thing?"

She swung the other dagger down, aiming for his shin. Wondering idly if these cut through bone, too.

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