Aaaaaand another.
Because I just can't write enough, now, I present you with another... uh... very very short piece of writing. One that won't even last you 5 minutes. 10, at least, if you're as slow a reader as I am a typer.
----------------------------------------
Another Cure for the Itch
The perfect time to get some exercise done, when everyone's finally bedded down for the night.
The smell of old sweat and deacde-old foam padding wafted throughout the moderately-sized exercise cubical. Echoes of fists and feet slapping and thumping into leather could be heard, mingling with the heavy and quick breaths of the lone sparrer. He bounced around on the balls of his feet, feinting left and right, mixing it up with hooks and straight jabs at the heavy punching bag.
From the entrance of the chamber, a cough had sounded. He paused, stopping the swaying bag with one arm, wiping at his sweat-soaked forehead with the other. He glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the younger soldier, this one a female, auburn hair cropped high, dressed down in Night Duty fatigues. He wandered over to one f the benches and grabbed a towel, as well as his water bottle, taking a good long pull from the spout.
"Yes, private?" he inquired, towelling the back of his neck.
She shrugged, leaning against the heavy frame of the doorway. "Just watching, sir, wondering why you're not in the rest chambers with the rest of the ground crew."
He tugged at the light tank top, darkened all down the back and front with sweat, pulling it away from his skin. Another drink from the water bottle and he sat down on the bench.
"O' course," was his reply, followed with a light shrug. "Couldn't sleep. Reason enough, I think. I'm wide awake, so, why don't I get in some gym time?" he continued, raking his hand through his drenched hair.
Another shrug and she'd pushed herself away from the hatch's frame, combat boots scraping the deck plating, breaking the short-lived silence. "That makes sense, I suppose. Just don't stay up too late, sir." She turned back into the corridor, waving over her shoulder.
Ashton shook his head, chuckling once to himself. He pushed himself off the bench and strayed back to the punching bag, resuming his boxing session, filling the exercise room with the padded thumpings and slappings of his fists against the leather sack.
"Certinly can't stay up late if I can't sleep at all, can I?" he asked the silence.
----------------------------------------
Comment, you fuxxes. :(
----------------------------------------
Another Cure for the Itch
The perfect time to get some exercise done, when everyone's finally bedded down for the night.
The smell of old sweat and deacde-old foam padding wafted throughout the moderately-sized exercise cubical. Echoes of fists and feet slapping and thumping into leather could be heard, mingling with the heavy and quick breaths of the lone sparrer. He bounced around on the balls of his feet, feinting left and right, mixing it up with hooks and straight jabs at the heavy punching bag.
From the entrance of the chamber, a cough had sounded. He paused, stopping the swaying bag with one arm, wiping at his sweat-soaked forehead with the other. He glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the younger soldier, this one a female, auburn hair cropped high, dressed down in Night Duty fatigues. He wandered over to one f the benches and grabbed a towel, as well as his water bottle, taking a good long pull from the spout.
"Yes, private?" he inquired, towelling the back of his neck.
She shrugged, leaning against the heavy frame of the doorway. "Just watching, sir, wondering why you're not in the rest chambers with the rest of the ground crew."
He tugged at the light tank top, darkened all down the back and front with sweat, pulling it away from his skin. Another drink from the water bottle and he sat down on the bench.
"O' course," was his reply, followed with a light shrug. "Couldn't sleep. Reason enough, I think. I'm wide awake, so, why don't I get in some gym time?" he continued, raking his hand through his drenched hair.
Another shrug and she'd pushed herself away from the hatch's frame, combat boots scraping the deck plating, breaking the short-lived silence. "That makes sense, I suppose. Just don't stay up too late, sir." She turned back into the corridor, waving over her shoulder.
Ashton shook his head, chuckling once to himself. He pushed himself off the bench and strayed back to the punching bag, resuming his boxing session, filling the exercise room with the padded thumpings and slappings of his fists against the leather sack.
"Certinly can't stay up late if I can't sleep at all, can I?" he asked the silence.
----------------------------------------
Comment, you fuxxes. :(