Location: Quarantine (Conference Room)
"Deal with it", huh? Oh yes, Ash could very much deal with it. There was a nigh epic amount of dealing that he was doing with the situation, starting with wrapping his arms around Thana as she climbed into his lap and settled in. It was a highly satisfying feeling, just holding her after so long a time without her, and more recently being absolutely certain that she was dead. Yeah, this was as good as a miracle, so far as he was concerned. Tiny moments of bliss were few and far between.
Their miracle even lasted for a painfully short time before they were interrupted by the imposing presence of Mizrahi and his insistence that Thana eat something. Curiously though, he spoke to Ash
, telling him that it had been days since her last meal. This made him quirk a brow. Was Mizrahi letting him know this to be helpful, perhaps to get someone on his side to also suggest that Thana eat? Was it an attempt to keep them from being so close together? He did seem a little jealous to Ash, or maybe possessive. At the very least, he seemed not to trust Ash. All of that would have to be a later conversation. He could see this becoming a man to man talk sometime down the road. Or possibly a fistfight. He didn't know the guy, and the guy obviously did not know him.
The fact remained that, pushy though he was, Mizrahi made a point. Hopefully, whatever Thana said to him in Arabic was also a point, though he wouldn't have known it. His knowledge of Arabic was limited to his time in the Middle East with the Army, and all he picked up there was how to recognize that it was being spoken, and there was just about where it ended. Ash did know that Thana was a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions about how to take care of herself, and if she wanted to rest her head on his shoulder and spend a quiet moment with him instead of eating, that was her call. "I'm glad you had someone watching your back out there,"
said Ash softly. It was a true statement, even though the tall man seemed determined to dislike Ash. He continued in a low, gentle voice, "I'm not going anywhere if you feel like eating. Even grab it for you if you don't want to move. I'll hold you like this all day if you let me, Thana."
The information dump would have been fresh on his mind, as well as the pictures and reports he saw in Briefing, but her presence allowed him to put it, and potentially the weight of responsibility, in the back of his mind for a little while. But more than that, taking everything else away, Ash just wanted her close.
Quarantine (Conference Room)Skills:
This workout just got a little more interesting. Thalia stopped at the apex of her pushup and slowly gathered a foot underneath her, rising with muscles tensed and predatory gaze as if contemplating lunging at Beatrice immediately. Thalia had a sheen of perspiration on her skin, though her breathing was still even. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth that began to show teeth. She looked positively devious.
Thalia didn't say anything for a while, contemplating the offer. She took in a deep breath and blew it out, reviewing her situation. She was getting stronger. Not exactly her old self as recovery could take a while and, among other traumas, she had lost her dominant hand and almost half her arm. But the looked to Thana as a beacon of inspiration in that regard. The woman had gone through intense trauma, died even, and was back up and kicking in record time. One could aspire. One had to. Hence, the extensive, hard-hitting training she had been subjecting herself to since arrival.
She began to nod, popping the fingers on her left hand individually with her thumb before wrapping her hand around and returning her thumb the favor. It was a tiny concession made for losing a limb. Thalia then held her prosthetic hand in front of her, manually extending each of the digits and then closing them back with soft, metallic clack
ing sounds. Like the arm itself it was artificial, but an eerily fitting representation of cracking her knuckles. It brought a single chuckle to the already present grin, which soon faded. Okay. Get serious.
Tactically speaking, she was at a disadvantage in the regard that she had always been a manual dexterity monster, and being deprived of one of her "manuals" made that harder. However, she had a spanking new arm to compensate, at least for balance. Any dexterity had to be planned out days in advance. On the other hand, the arm couldn't feel and was essentially a painful blunt weapon mounted on the end of her stump. Also, recent years had given her more options than agile hands. Thalia had always been an improvisational fighter, and the Valkyries taught her combat options that relied more on her physicality. If there was any real problem, it was that if she sparred with Beatrice, she'd be swinging a steel club at her face. Thalia liked
Bea's face. It would be a shame to damage it. Okay, choice made. "Alright, Killah Bea. You're on."
She eyed the can of yummy pasta, but shook her head to the negative. "But it's naht gonna be for that. Let's bring the stakes up some."
She had intended to decline respectfully. Opening her mouth, the words came out with a lot more spontaneous honesty than she had intended. Thalia loved to spar. She was a fighter, if she was going to learn how to fight with her new, amended body, she needed to start here. Beatrice knew the risks. Holding back with her would just be insulting. They might not be the best of ...whatever they were to each other, but there was always respect there. "If I win, you have to give me a hug. A good one. In front of people."
She had plans for those O
s that didn't involve mere acquisition. That would deprive her of her fun. "If you win... hmm. Open to suggestions."
Thalia slipped out of her shirt and began wrapping it around her metal hand. It was something, at least. Thalia stood there in jeans and a sports bra, her skin glowing from her warm-up and a determined look in her eyes. "Yah know, I really don't care about stakes. I just want to mix it up."
It had been a while. And it would do her good to see Beatrice sweat.
Quarantine (Conference Room)Skills:
Did he miss him? What an odd question. Hank copped a half surprised, half revolted face, as if Nigel had asked him out to the prom. It looked a little like he might be exaggerating it for effect, or just faking it altogether, but that didn't stop the stiff lean away from the man. "Just grab you a seat there, Sportacus, and we will never speak of this again."
Hank nodded somberly, "Oooookay?"
Quarantine was almost over, and even though he had been antisocial to the extreme for the vast majority of their time in there, he didn't really have any hard feelings for the people in that room. Maybe watching this movie, a crowd favorite if ever he saw one, would be the one thing that he could look back on as something they all did together. Even if it mostly involved sitting and looking in he same direction, commentary optional.
After the Roman fellow took is seat on the floor, Hank gave a quick verbal nudge to get his attention, "Psst... Hey, you're alright, alright? Alright. Movie now."
That was about as warm and fuzzy as he really felt like being. Nigel and Erica were their companions on the last leg of their journey down to this place, and while they could have gotten there okay as a duo, it wasn't all bad having extra bodies around. Especially when they made themselves useful.
Touching moment (or reasonable facsimile thereof) aside, Hank caught a snatch of conversation from somewhere off to the side. He turned his head slowly, trying not to draw attention to himself as he, well, tried to eavesdrop. It was the young slip of a woman who put soldierboy on his ass and the one-armed girl with the pixie cut who had been pushing herself like racehorse all week. "Oh thank you, sweet mother of God..."
he said at a whisper. "Hey Maldonado? Chick Fight."
Hank really wished he had a bag of popcorn right then.