didn't I teach you right, didn't I

[decommission]

CHARACTERS: Steve-o and you
WHERE: All around the Station
WHEN: Day 4 and forward
SUMMARY: A few general prompts for downtime, hit me up if you want something more specific!
WARNINGS: Will update if needed.



EXERCISE

[ ( a. ) Early every morning Steve can be found running laps in one of the larger halls in the training wing. Depending on what time you find him, he'll either just be starting or his face will be flushed as he walks slow circles with even breaths.

( b. ) Or you might find him pummeling a punching bag like a (less than) half trained boxer. He's got his thumb outside of his fist.

( c. ) It's later in the day that he'll retreat to a slightly more secluded section (as secluded as you can get without doors). The sharp ring of metal striking metal an be heard - ]

Heads up!

[ A disc-shaped blur hurtles across the room and over Steve's head as he ducks, striking an empty equipment rack before finally hitting the floor. With a scowl Steve jogs over to retrieve it. Both of his arms appear to be covered in a dull, silver metal, almost matching the material of the disc - or shield, as it is. ]

RECREATION

[ Bats, gloves, baseballs.

It's been what feels like a century since he'd last seen this stuff, last spoke with Lexa about getting folks together for a game. He's not really sure he's up for it at the moment, but he gravitates to the reminders of home all the same. ]

If you see any more of these, lemme know.

[ Spoken to any passerby as he indicates to the mismatched array of baseball equipment. All of it looks used, some more battered than others. There's a pair of aluminum bats and a sorry looking wooden one with a splinter down the middle, three grass-stained baseballs with their threads loose, and an array of leather gloves. One of the mitts is on fitted on his left hand, the leather dark and roughed up from use. He's never known a stiff glove, and isn't too sorry not to find one here. ]

Comments

recreation;

[wrackful]

[Murphy's first thought on seeing the pile is that they're weapons. Shitty weapons, but all the same. It's an impression that fades in a split second, replaced with recognition, old film footage, the same games over and over.]

There was a guy with a ball the first day we got back here.

[Bouncing it off the walls of the living quarters, irritating enough that Murphy hadn't thought about where it had come from. But he's thinking it now, faced with this pile of stuff.]

What are you doing with them?

[decommission]

[ A glance at the baseball in his gloved hand, his thumb running along the weathered thread. Both eyebrows lift again as he answers the question. ]

Taking stock. Thought I might get a game going. [ He inclines his head at Murphy, holding the ball in one hand but not tossing it over yet. ] You know how to play?

[ Genuinely curious. As he found with Lexa, not everyone knows much about baseball. ]

[wrackful]

No. Never paid that much attention.

[And there hadn't been room anywhere on the Ark to try an actual game. There probably is here, though. He's given up trying to get an idea of how big the station is, or apply any kind of logic to what it contains.]

What are you thinking, it's gonna inspire some team spirit?

[There's an edge of derision there, though it might just be how his voice normally is. He knows enough of the Nest are capable of getting along not to say it'd be a total failure, but he's also witnessed enough fractures to doubt it would spread.]

[decommission]

[ Hard for Steve to personally imagine a world where baseball exists and yet you don't follow the game. ]

Wouldn't hurt. [ No derision in his tone, he speaks plainly. He's seen the Nest at it's most dysfunctional, been attacked and beaten by his own broodmate - but those aren't the thoughts he lingers on. ] Neither would some friendly competition.

[ Because that's part of the game too. With the baseball in hand, he gives it an underhand toss in Murphy's direction. ]