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

[decommission]

[ Steve opens his mouth to answer when Sam's mind touches his, mouth closing and brow furrowing at Shiro. Speak of the devil -

The concern on his features tightens with pain all at once: rot, salt and a cold that threatens to burn, the painted walls of a sanitarium peel back and fester, his own steel walls shifting under the pressure -

His hand reaches to hold the side of his head, equilibrium disrupted. ]

Sam? [ Gasped instead where he might've tried to touch Sam's mind back. ]

[shiro2hero]

[It hits him at the same time as it does Steve. It's all but nauseating. Disorienting. As much as the help sends a shock of fear down his spine, the rest of it is practically overwhelming. The only saving grace of it all is that it's nothing like his own darker memories -- so there isn't any feedback loop to deepen the hole.]

[One hand reaches out to try and steady the other man, though. Without him so much as thinking about it.]

... where is he? [It comes out strained. A little choked.]

[decommission]

[ The hand on his shoulder draws Steve back into the training hall, his disoriented gaze settling on Shiro. ]

Life support. [ Training. Which means - ] C'mon! [ He shakes his head as if to clear it as he starts to move, a quickened pace that becomes a sprint through the doorless entryway. ]

[shiro2hero]

Right behind you!

[And he is. Following right on Steve's heels. He may be a space dorito, but he's always been quick.]

[God, if something happened -- if it's something they can't fix...]

[decommission]

[ run run run ]