It's just, you know, she comes in from a date, she doesn't really want to hang around downstairs in the hit-on-me zone. And she likes a good book, but today she's not feeling it.
She's heard there's a holodeck up here, but she finds the gym first.
When Bryce hears a step in the hallway, she starts pulling her punches -- still moving fast and light on her feet, but without so much force and violence behind each blow.
She hasn't turned to see who it is, yet. It doesn't matter who it is, for this: all that matters in this instant is preserving the facade.
It's just, you know, she comes in from a date, she doesn't really want to hang around downstairs in the hit-on-me zone. And she likes a good book, but today she's not feeling it.
She's heard there's a holodeck up here, but she finds the gym first.
Ivy pauses in the doorway.
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She hasn't turned to see who it is, yet. It doesn't matter who it is, for this: all that matters in this instant is preserving the facade.
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She certainly has the means. But Ivy worries that these comic books might be biasing her unduly.
(Then again, they do get a lot of those little details right ...)
In the meantime, she watches Bryce hit stuff.
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"Hey."
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"--Pamela? Hi."
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"Didn't mean to startle you."
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"What are you doing down here?"
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Her eyebrows arch.
"What are you up to?"
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"--Just some kickboxing. Staying in shape. You know."
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She tries not to look too dubious.
"As you do. Am I interrupting?"
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"Oh, good."
And steps forward into the room. It seems more conducive to conversation.
"I admit, I ... definitely see the psychological appeal in hitting something repeatedly. But I'm not sold on the health benefits."
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"Well, the psychological benefits are definitely worth something."
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