Rachel generally keeps her routines to the morning. Today, however, she had some extra creepy-crawly-restless energy to burn off, and as such, is coming out of the elevators to the garage sometime after Happy Hour has started.
She does a quick scan around the tables to make sure there's no one present who might whine about her morphing suit/workout outfit, and walks to the bar for a drink.
What she gets is a surprise bartender.
"Helena, right?" Rachel asks, smiling as she slides onto a stool.
She won't say the woman looks better but-- wow, she really looks better.
She wipes her forehead free of sweat with the back of her hand and glances at the specials. They get a smile but not much more - the tragedies of the underaged.
...are not very tragic, admittedly.
"Can I get a water? Oh- or Gatorade. Let's go with Gatorade."
Helena nods, then turns away to pour herself a glass of wine. Technically she's not sure she should be drinking alcohol yet, but she's off the pain killers and the wounds are healing well. She just won't tell Renee or Guppy.
"So how's it been around here, since then?" she asks over her shoulder. "I haven't been around much..."
"... Quiet," she says eventually, repeating Rachel's own choice of words.. "I promised someone I'd take it easy."
And she has. Her promise to Renee to not split her stitches is keeping her from rushing in to any training too early but she's starting to chomp at the bit to get back to some kind of physical activity.
"The more you want to run around doing everything you're not supposed to?"
There's sympathy in the question, but Rachel is still smiling. It's said that misery loves company - but sometimes it's just nice to know your feelings aren't completely alien to the rest of the world.
"Garage is nearly always empty," Rachel offers. It's not quite conspiratorially. This is important information, after all, and it will obviously do Helena some good to move around.
She does a quick scan around the tables to make sure there's no one present who might whine about her morphing suit/workout outfit, and walks to the bar for a drink.
What she gets is a surprise bartender.
"Helena, right?" Rachel asks, smiling as she slides onto a stool.
She won't say the woman looks better but-- wow, she really looks better.
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"Right. And you're Rachel?"
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She wipes her forehead free of sweat with the back of her hand and glances at the specials. They get a smile but not much more - the tragedies of the underaged.
...are not very tragic, admittedly.
"Can I get a water? Oh- or Gatorade. Let's go with Gatorade."
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"On me," she says, placing it on the bar on front of Rachel.
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Then, cracking the seal and spinning the top off, trying not to sound half as suspicious as she is,
"Why?"
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"Because you helped me when I came in and you didn't have to."
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Rachel frowns a little, dropping her gaze to the bottle. Completing the trifecta of awkwardness by shrugging.
"If I got hurt that bad, I'd want someone helping me, too."
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"So how's it been around here, since then?" she asks over her shoulder. "I haven't been around much..."
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Rachel hesitates, bottle half-lifted to her lips. "...well, normal anyway."
As she hasn't been in bar much either, and Milliways is very rarely ever 'quiet.'
She notices the wine and smiles a little, amused. Something about tending for the bar that makes alcohol seem like a good idea.
"How are things with you?"
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And she has. Her promise to Renee to not split her stitches is keeping her from rushing in to any training too early but she's starting to chomp at the bit to get back to some kind of physical activity.
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"Are you actually following that promise?"
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She doesn't know why but for some reason keeping this promise to Renee is important to her.
"But the longer I'm cooped up..."
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There's sympathy in the question, but Rachel is still smiling. It's said that misery loves company - but sometimes it's just nice to know your feelings aren't completely alien to the rest of the world.
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"Stitches are healing nicely though. Maybe I'll go for a run in a few days..."
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...and not get caught.
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