[b]Lynn[/b]

Lynn had come to the gym to not be (as) pissed off anymore, and she had to admit through a barely bit-back laugh that she had succeeded pretty much immediately upon arrival. Hoisting the duffel bag (which seemed nearly as large as her; newly-bought with [i]Vaquero[/i] money, and among the only passably nice things Lynn owned) higher over her shoulder, she walked over to Gen, who was lying flat on the floor, flopping like he was having a stroke. Aw shit maybe he was. Lynn figured asking if he smelled burnt toast, but most people did around her. Eh. He was moving. Flopping.

Some have slandered Lynn's good name with accusations of paranoia. Whatever label you choose to apply on her [i]reasoned[/i] and [i]rational[/i] vigilance, there was very little of it to be had here. The gym was populated enough that no one was going to try to put a hit on her, and Lynn figured the Promise's MO was to make things look like an accident. Namely, a large, lizard-sized accident. Beyond that, there was something so utterly pathetic about face-planting on a five mile per hour treadmill that nothing in Lynn's mind could register this guy as a meaningful threat. Lynn hoisted him up to his feet, grunting slightly. She had more strength than a girl of her size should, and her hands were warm - not uncomfortably so - under the crooks of Gen's arms as she picked him up. Big fella. Lynn looked him over. He'd been hitting the sushi a little hard. Weird fingerless glove. Maybe a power thing, but given the faceplant, maybe just a virgin thing. Lynn didn't recognize him, which was surprising, given that she assumed his parahuman ability was his skin complexion.

"Up and at 'em, fish," Lynn said. Her hair was pulled back in boxer braids she'd idly given herself on the walk over, giving Lynn something of a more pronounced hood rat look than normal. She had the hoodie cinched around her waist and as tight a tanktop as Lynn's frail frame could manage over her. On the way, she'd wrapped her hands, which was getting to be economically infeasible. Even working to keep her power as dimmed down as possible, she was burning through them with relative frequency. Lynn's solution was to wrap them with aluminum foil before putting them in the gloves, which may have provoked laughter in the gym were it anyone but Lynn doing so. She figured she would lift weights or something too. But here was a Fish flopping around out of water. "You still have all your teeth?"