2013.03.13 - On The Table

One has been busy. After converting the foreman's office into living quarters, he spent a day arranging and rearranging the main floor of Weischel Carcass House. Most of the major bits and pieces of meat packing equipment have been shoved off into a corner, but a wide array of slaughtering and butchery tools have been stuck on a pegboard that's hanging from one wall. The remaining space is taken up by a clinic, an improvised laboratory, and a small gym. The various areas are separated by standing cubicle dividers, but the setup has an unfinished look to it that has nothing to do with the lack of proper walls. Despite all the equipment and materials One has moved in, the huge room still looks bare and empty. It's a hideout, not a home. Right now he's in the workout area. For once he's not wearing a tie, or even a button-down shirt. He's stripped to the waist, dressed only in loose athletic pants and soft-soled shoes. Stretched out on a double-reinforced bench, he's knocking out sets of incline presses. The bar he's using has a distinct curve to it, as it's currently supporting almost seven hundred pounds. There are a few bruises scattered across his torso, and something that looks an awful lot like a healing cigar burn right over his heart. The precise incisions down the back of his right hand and arm have faded to angry scars. Other than these small signs, he seems fully recovered from his trip to Thailand.

Gyuh, -lord!- It's gonna be one of those days, alright. Domino's -still- rubbing at her face, hours after having been awake and moving about. Something just doesn't..quite feel right. Like everything had shifted two degrees to the left while she slept. She'd like to think that it was delayed jetlag from the trip, but she knows jetlag. This isn't it.

Whatever it is, it appears to be purely psychological. The only thing that's off during her day is her.

And her phone. She deliberately kept that off for a while. Not long enough to miss One's message, however.

She's still not pleased with how the rescue op turned out. They missed some major objectives. She would have much preferred to handle the whole thing on her own, but it is what it is. Over with. For now. So, between having pulled an ally back from the brink of gods know what and her own feeling of wrongness, she couldn't think of any better place to spend her evening than in the company of the recovering Doctor, himself.

Also, holy damn. That's gotta be seven hundred pounds that guy's pressing. "Hey, uh--" she starts in then just as quickly cuts herself off with a faint clearing of her throat.

You're staring, Domino.

"You look like you're feeling better."

Smooth.

Only a few repetitions into his latest set, One shifts his count without missing a beat. "Ninety-three... Ninety-four... Ninety--oh, hey." Very smooth. The doctor racks his weights, which produces an alarming creak from the metal stand he's welded together. Then, grinning lopsidedly, he hauls himself out of the incline chair, picks up a towel, and tousles it through his hair. Apparently, the staring hasn't gone unnoticed. The towel is left to drape around his neck as he approaches Domino. "I am. Feeling better, that is. Thanks to you. How are you doing?"

Ahem.

He's part -machine,- Domino. ..You really don't care, do you.

Nnnope.

Watching intently seems to serve double-duty at summoning you closer, something which she files away for future reference. "Better."

Damnit, Dom..!

Black lips part slightly. Blue eyes jump back up to hold your gaze. And succeed at keeping it. Mental reboot complete. "That's one helluva recovery. You were looking pretty bad back there." The thanks is subconsciously waved off, as usual with her. "Holding together. I've noticed something in your absence, though. Human doctors can be a real pain in the neck. Automated medical tables kinda freak me out. It strikes me as odd that combining two bad things can make for a better thing."

She missed you, too.

"Skynet's not all bad," One agrees, still grinning as he comes to a stop just a few feet from Dom. "Anyway, I heal up fast. Good genes." The last bit is dry, almost cold. He recovers quickly, though. His smile is back in place by the time he looks up and meets Dom's eyes again. "Guess you know what I'm talking about. So, you here for another physical you don't need? Or did you manage to get shot again?"

That she doesn't -need?- Oh come on now, she -needs- them, alright. "Wellll..." Dom trails off with a lopsided grin, reaching up to rub the back of her neck. "I did get shot..and stabbed..and cut up..and bruised to hell and back..but that was before we went to retrieve you."

Hoboy.

"How about Fern, is she doing alright? Are you two ... Picking back up okay?"

Are they even an item? She isn't sure! Poor Fern seems like she would break under all of ..that.

The albino twitches slightly, as if mentally kicking herself in the seat of her pants. "I came here to check up on -you- for once. But it seems everything's well in ha--order."

One takes a deep breath and sighs it out slowly. "She's been having nightmares. I have, too. I don't dream in the strictest sense of the word, but I'm capable of replaying events I've experienced while I'm undergoing my maintenance routine. It's been... unsettling. It may be time for a change." There's another pause, then he shrugs. Most people would've looked away by now, but One's icy blue eyes are relentless and unabashed. "Other than that, I'm fine," he continues. "If you're sure you don't want me to look you over, are you up for a spar? I could use some proper exercise."

"Nightmares from the out of country experience?" Domino inquires. She's not sure what else they would be related to. Certainly not from the two of you being an item, unless you had a habit of howling at the moon or something.

Then..wait. -Sparring.- An offer to--but she's full of stitches that she keeps pulling on and healing wounds--but it's you, and it's her, and she's stubborn as hell--

"Yeah, alright."

No doubt you'll be looking over once she gets moving and starts bleeding all over herself again, but until that point..! The coat comes away easily. The webbing takes a while longer to disconnect and set aside. "Just remember that I don't take seven hundred pound punches so well."

"I know," One says, but not unkindly. "And that was low weight, high reps. Just try not to get hit. I find that to be a very effective tactic. Besides, when I think of leaving marks on you, this isn't what I normally have in mind." The banter is lighthearted, even playful. As he's mostly undressed, all he really has left to lose is his towel. Unfortunately for Domino, he opens by throwing it in her face and following up with a short, sharp jab. He doesn't put his weight into it, though. This is just a shot across the proverbial bow, barely more than a feint.

Speed. Something that Domino excels at. When she's not distracted and covered in injuries. Now she's simply great at it. The towel is caught in one hand, clawed out of the air and down to the side as her shoulders turn, ducking down and turning her to the side as her other arm comes up to connect forearm to forearm. By the time she comes back around she's trying to snap that towel across your backside.

"I'm wounded, not terminal. Quit screwing around."

If you give her a proper struggle then she might be able to get her own head in the game, for that matter. She can think of worse ways of spending an evening than by being grappled by you.

"Ow!" Towel-snapped hard enough to leave a welt, One narrow his eyes and lets out a chuckle. "Okay. Have it your way." Before the towel can withdraw, he catches it in his hand, wraps it around his fist, and yanks. This leaves Domino with two choices. She can allow him to capture the flag, or she can get yanked along with it. Either way, when he reaches the end of his tether, he springs forward again. The attack he launches is basic and unsophisticated, but it can be very effective against a smaller opponent. Especially one who may be off balance. The football tackle. He's trying to tackle Domino to the floor. Maybe chivalry really is dead.

Dom's happy to let go of the towel. If you're going to try and over-muscle her (which -clearly- you can do without any real effort,) then she's not about to up and give you opportunities. She may be injured, but she's also a fighter. A football tackle might work on some folks. In her eyes?

Sloppy.

Rather than risk diving beneath you she instead leaps off to the side, rolling across her shoulders with an audible hiss as she pops back up to her boots a few feet away from your landing.

"Can see ya coming a mile out, Doc."

It gives her an opportunity to roll up the sleeves of her armored skin, though she never takes her eyes off of you. You're skilled. You've got moves. Add into that mix your unique physiology and she could go down with one proper strike.

She aims to not let that happen.

One curls forward in midair, lands on his hands, and flips back into a standing position. If anything, he has gotten stronger and more agile after his ordeal. Nine did say that some parts of One were so badly damaged they had to be rebuilt. He was non-specific as to which parts, but all of the fun ones seem to have been included. "Fine," One says, looking Domino over from head to toe, then doing it a second time for good measure. A finger is crooked at her in a come-hither gesure. "Come to Daddy."

..Huh. "Been hitting the protein shakes?" Dom teases, though behind that smirk is a bit of admiration. And surprise. That's a new trick for you, isn't it?

The reinforced zipper gets pulled down from her jawline to sternum level, giving her skin a chance to breathe while also revealing two angry looking bruises upon the alabaster-hued body within.

Of course, it might also be an attempt to distract you, in turn. Her hand barely moves away from the metal tab when she's back in motion, blitzing toward you looking as though she's going to come in low--

Make that from the right--

High--

Left--!

She spins about, twists into a most awkward looking angle, and comes around with an elbow sweeping toward the back of your head while her other arm stays free to grapple your own once it's within reach.

Fast, -and- difficult to predict.

"Ow," One says again, this time when he's clubbed across the back of the head. "I always did like that outfit." Yes, he was caught looking elsewhere. Still, Domino will need more firepower than that to take him down, and she's just put herself exactly where he's been hoping to get her. Up close and personal. Here, he can use his enhanced strength to compensate for her superior speed and reflexes. Once she wraps her arm around his, he responds by drawing her in close for a bear hug of epic proportions. If he can pull this off, it'll be... Well, it'll be good for him. For Domino, it depends on how she feels about being squeezed by someone who can lift a compact car.

To be fair, it would be a lot better for Dom if she hadn't already gotten the tar beat out of herself about two weeks ago. Heck, on a normal day this could be downright cozy. As it stands...

"And I always liked those pecs," she grunts through a clenched jaw, pushing her feet up and away from you as you hang onto her to try and drive her boot heels into your stomach.

Bringing you down may not be in the cards for her. She's sparring, not going for a beat-down. But, as you so helpfully remind her, she can still spar with a lot more force than she has been.

THUD-THUMP Both boots hit One in the belly, driving him back and sending him sprawling over an exam table. Grinning fiercely, his blood roused and his eyes alight, he picks up a stereoscope and hurls it across the room. He might be getting a little carried away. Using the table as a vaulting platform, he clears the distance between Domino and himself in short order. He keeps his guard up, warding off blows with his elbows as he advances on her. When he returns fire, he uses the heel of his hand and aims for her breastbone.

Incoming lab equipment..!

It's caught out of the air, though Domino's still working on getting air back into her lungs. "Don't even have this place together and we're trashing it ag--Hey!"

Someone's starting to feel an awful lot like the jackrabbit in this skirmish. She's half a second from being pancaked by you, tossing the 'scope aside as you close the gap.

Left jab.

Roundhouse kick.

DUCK--

When your palm drives toward her sternum she vaults backward, arresting her fall with palms flattened upon the floor over her head. From the handstand she tries to lock her legs around your arm and -twist,- looking to offset your balance. You're unleashing a heavy hit, maybe she can borrow some of that energy and redirect it juuust enough...

WHAM. Exam table again, this time even harder than the first. The breath is forced audibly from One's lungs when he makes contact. He doesn't let Domino off the hook, though. With his arm already strung between her legs, he simply tightens his grip to take her mobility out of the equation. Then he starts throwing punches. He's still not as fast as she is. Once, twice, three times he misses, each time bashing out a cupboard door, tearing a hole in drywall, or breaking a pane of glass. A 'grrrrRRRRrrrr' slips from between his clenched teeth as he changes tactics. Again, sometimes simple is best. Rather than striking her, now he's aiming to wrap his hand around her throat and clamp down. Just a little. Amazingly, he's still smiling, proving that as rough as he's playing, he's still just having fun.

It's hard to tell from where Domino's being dragged about..! You're trashing your own equipment, and growling, and it's all so very, very ...

Rawr.

It's the second time this week that she's been taken by the neck, snared within the hand of one of these lab-created beings. The difference is that this one's smiling in a -good- way, and she doesn't have a pair of semiautomatics in her hands. This time all she's got in her hands is a wad of corded forearm.

There's no growl in response. It's more of a choking sound, really. Once again her legs come into play, catching you around the ribs and constricting like a vise. She could have gone for the crotch again, but that'd just be mean. Only if you're really trying to strangle her. Of course, she's not sure if crushing your middle is going to do any good. Do you even have lungs?

One has lungs, ribs, and all sorts of other pieces, most of which are still only about three-quarters healed. The scissor-lock drives away what little air he's been able to reclaim and has him wincing as well. There's a brief, muffled creaking sound from somewhere inside him, but he still doesn't give up. He rears back, then slams Domino against the wall, easing up on her neck just enough to make sure there's no chance of permanent damage. Still scissored, he's eye-to-eye with her. "Hi," he says breathlessly.

What remaining air that had been occupying Dom's lungs bursts forth in one semi-explosive report as she's driven back to the wall, still latched onto you by the arm and middle as you hold her there. Her narrowed eyes are looking slightly bloodshot, though she's still grinning right back at you.

"Hi, yourself."

You've got her back to a wall. Walls are good for launching off of. Her legs release their hold only to drive back against the wall and -push- toward you.

If the two end up lying one on top of the other across the floor, well... These things happen sometimes.

And so they do. Dom on top, at least to start. There's a great deal of rolling around, though. Brawling. The unscientific art of roaring and punching. When it must, the definition can be expanded to include a good wrestling match. One continues to emphasize this point, this time by grabbing Domino's lapels. Rather than try to throw her off of him, his thought is to take the top position. From there, size, mass, and physical strength will work to his advantage. He speeds the process along with a knee strike aimed just under her ribs.

Some of that blow from your knee gets deflected by a pair of crossed forearms dropping down across your thigh. Some, but not all.

"Ergh!"

Then Domino goes and does something reckless, and very likely stupid. With you on top of her she takes you by the shoulders, heaves herself upward, and tries to headbutt you.

Yeah, she knows what your head is like. Selina gave her something of a guided demonstration during some hasty surgery. Still! Being reckless is what nets her the best results. Maybe she'll hit a fleshy spot, or something.

One thing's certain, at least. She's not minding you being on top.

At. All.

The bridge of One's nose is just as vulnerable as anyone else's. There's another very serious-sounding noise when Domino's forehead makes contact. Groaning, eyes watering, he palms his face and tries to clear the stars from his vision. "Oooof..." he grunts. "I almost did that a second ago, but I thought it'd be ungentlemanly." Suddenly, the blade of his forearm is shooting toward Dom's windpipe. It'd be a very effective way to pin her down. "You're welcome to wiggle," he breathes. "In fact, please do."

Well, Domino hadn't been -trying- to break your nose... She could apologize for it, or she could stick to her usual wit.

"Good thing I'm not a gentleman."

Whup--forearm!

Two half-gloved hands leap upward, catching you at the wrist and elbow. Leverage is still on your side. Maybe she can keep some of the pressure off of her throat but it means leaving her arms pinned at her sides.

"Don't..mind..if I do."

She only needs to find a strategy that doesn't involve attempting to pulverize your face or anything that targets areas which would lead to serious damage. Sparring..!

Eh, you'll heal. She pries her hands free then comes around from the sides to clap her palms across your ears. She holds back, somewhat. You're a big guy, though.

Oooh, that hurt. Both of One's ears are ringing, even the falsie. He staggers to his feet and takes a few steps backward, his hands held out wardingly in front of his body while he shakes his head to clear it. Now his vision, hearing, and sense of smell are all fuddled. His eyes are only watering, so he keeps them tightly fixed on Domino. "Okay, that one made me want to hit you for real," he admits. "Maybe we should stop before someone needs stitches. Or we end up having sex. Or both." Despite being bloodied and sore, he seems pleased. "Good fight," he says as he sags back against the exam table. "Very good fight."

Wait. Wait wait wait. Domino's retaliation works (albeit perhaps a bit too well,) leading to a legitimately surprised look as she pushes herself away from the floor enough to sit upright. "I thought that was the goal of this exercise."

Damnit. Always start with the drinks, girl.

Well, there's that shot out the nearest window. She peels herself off of the floor with an obvious grimace, lightly holding a hand to her armored side. "You're awfully spry for someone that had one foot and both hands in the grave a few days ago. Didn't expect that good of a fight out of you."

One reaches out to give Domino a hand up, smiling all the while. "I don't know. Maybe that was the point after all," he chuckles. "I have already seen you naked a bunch of times." He's still laughing when he reaches into the smashed cupboard for a gauze pad, which he uses to cover his nose before setting it. "Oh. Oh, ow. Worth it, but a lot of ow. Yeah, I didn't expect that good a fight from me, either. I needed it, though. Thanks."

Dom takes the hand up, a bit worse for wear as well though with the benefit of having her own injuries all covered up and hidden away. Not that it makes them hurt any less.

"Sooo... Stitches aside, the offer's still on the table, huh."

She watches without saying another word as you get your nose back in order. That really was a good hit, there... Work hard, play harder. Of course, the tone changes all over again when you get it bandaged and thank her for the trouble.

"Shut up and show me around, Skynet."