Brock Rumlow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
comesfrompain) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
pineslog2017-05-17 02:54 pm
comesfrompain) wrote in pineslog2017-05-17 02:54 pm
tell me i'm evil [open]
Who: Brock Rumlow & you!
Where: Around town, Crossbones Boxing
When: 05.15-05.31
What: Just hanging out with thiscool old dude. Or whatever!
Warnings: Language. More will be added as needed.
gym.
With doors wide open in invitation, a handful of people can be seen inside the gym. Some getting their own workout in, lifting weights, hitting bags, one seated and wrapping their hands. Near the back stands Rumlow, watching someone hitting one of the heavy bags. His expression serious, calculating, observing as each hit lands. Every so often, he'll give praise, or a correction to his student. A few minutes later, he glances up at the clock on the wall, claps his student on the back and tells them to cool off.
He meanders after, looking between the other patrons and giving them a few choice tips here and there before he heads into his office. The door remains open, and he seems to be going over some paperwork. His expression is disengaged, preoccupied with other thoughts. Either that or reading on paper is incredibly tedious, being used to the glare of a backlit computer. He'll shift between one paper and the next after a while. It doesn't seem like he would mind a visitor.
Probably because he's bored and checking over the contracts and making sure everyone is up to date on their bills is supremely dull. He is really considering hiring someone to do this for him, because while it's within his means, it's shit he really would rather pay someone else to do. Especially so he can focus on coaching. Or spending inordinate amounts of time working out to prevent his mind from wandering to the multitude of thoughts that plague him.
Coaching steals his focus better. It's impersonal and physical enough to keep his troubling memories at bay.
edge of town.
Some days of the week, Rumlow can be found running along the edge of the woods and through the less trafficked roads in town. Jogging along, he'll keep to himself, going around or cutting away from any others that might be in his path. Primarily he keeps to the outskirts, pace slow and built more for endurance than speed. Every so often, he'll slow his pace and do a little shadow boxing, as if to shove away the mundanity of cardio.
Rumlow wishes he had music to listen to, but jogging plus CD players equals skipping and that shit is even more annoying than silence. Plus, apparently earbuds haven't been invented yet here or whatever, and like Hell he's gonna wear over-ear headphones when he's running. Fashion fucking disaster. If you're quick enough or manage to get his attention, he's like to stop.
wildcard.
[ooc: your choice! feel free to plurk me if you have ideas!]
Where: Around town, Crossbones Boxing
When: 05.15-05.31
What: Just hanging out with this
Warnings: Language. More will be added as needed.
gym.
With doors wide open in invitation, a handful of people can be seen inside the gym. Some getting their own workout in, lifting weights, hitting bags, one seated and wrapping their hands. Near the back stands Rumlow, watching someone hitting one of the heavy bags. His expression serious, calculating, observing as each hit lands. Every so often, he'll give praise, or a correction to his student. A few minutes later, he glances up at the clock on the wall, claps his student on the back and tells them to cool off.
He meanders after, looking between the other patrons and giving them a few choice tips here and there before he heads into his office. The door remains open, and he seems to be going over some paperwork. His expression is disengaged, preoccupied with other thoughts. Either that or reading on paper is incredibly tedious, being used to the glare of a backlit computer. He'll shift between one paper and the next after a while. It doesn't seem like he would mind a visitor.
Probably because he's bored and checking over the contracts and making sure everyone is up to date on their bills is supremely dull. He is really considering hiring someone to do this for him, because while it's within his means, it's shit he really would rather pay someone else to do. Especially so he can focus on coaching. Or spending inordinate amounts of time working out to prevent his mind from wandering to the multitude of thoughts that plague him.
Coaching steals his focus better. It's impersonal and physical enough to keep his troubling memories at bay.
edge of town.
Some days of the week, Rumlow can be found running along the edge of the woods and through the less trafficked roads in town. Jogging along, he'll keep to himself, going around or cutting away from any others that might be in his path. Primarily he keeps to the outskirts, pace slow and built more for endurance than speed. Every so often, he'll slow his pace and do a little shadow boxing, as if to shove away the mundanity of cardio.
Rumlow wishes he had music to listen to, but jogging plus CD players equals skipping and that shit is even more annoying than silence. Plus, apparently earbuds haven't been invented yet here or whatever, and like Hell he's gonna wear over-ear headphones when he's running. Fashion fucking disaster. If you're quick enough or manage to get his attention, he's like to stop.
wildcard.
[ooc: your choice! feel free to plurk me if you have ideas!]
no subject
[ while she can recount a fair amount about her other life, her memories are still so convoluted that she’s not always sure what’s real and what’s not. but hazy details aside she’s thankful for the constants, like tony. rumlow can breathe easy knowing she doesn’t know him, punny exchange aside. ] I just wanted to clear my head with a run and I guess I did too good of a job.
no subject
[Bullets, for one. Fists, feet, shoulders, elbows. Ms. Potts ain't a tiny lady, but she's hardly built like the usual crew he spars with. Suffice to say? He's fine.
At least it doesn't seem like she knows him -- not that she would, unless she reads SHIELD dossiers. It's not like Rumlow's ever quite crossed into her side of things, seeing as he mostly works with Rogers and Romanova. Still, he sort of wonders if he ought to bring up their peripheral relationship. Not here, where he can't be sure how well monitored they are, but sometime, maybe.]
But no harm, no foul. Pretty sure we were on the same page with that one.
[He smiles easily, falling into the role of the friendly neighborhood boxing coach, or whatever it is he's supposed to be. Small talk isn't his favorite, but he can do it well enough. Easier when he's got a personal investment in maintain friendly relations.]
no subject
[ and she’s read dozens of shield dossiers, because tony likes to be in the know… and he has no self-control. but she doesn’t remember most of what she read, so shield and all that encompasses means little to her. one of the only thing she remembers is she was ( or still is ) the ceo of stark industries, a tech conglomerate… but that didn’t answer a whole lot and, instead, left her with even more questions. ]
I hope you’re having an easier time of it. [ or maybe he had been until she collided with him. ] It’s nice around here though… [ she motioned down the street with her head. ] Do you mind a little company? [ it might help, since she’d rather not be left alone with her thoughts anymore. ]
no subject
For all intents and purposes though, it almost seems like she's been drinking the Kool-Aid the way she says that. Sure, objectively, it's nice. Pretty little town in the woods, might even be idyllic if it weren't for the mass surveillance. That kind of puts a damper on things. Even so, he'll take the company and see if there's a chance he can learn anything from her. If not, it's an opportunity to foster an alliance. Win-win.]
Don't mind at all. [Rumlow smiles, glancing down the way he'd been heading.] I was gonna arch around back to the treeline, 'cause I like the view. That good?
no subject
[ and calling it drinking the kool-aid was an apt comparison. she knows something’s going on, but the problem was finding people she could trust. she doesn’t want the sheriff knocking on her door, at least not until she’s got some sway. ]
That’s fine. I don’t mind going around again. I’d still like to make some progress clearing my head. [ she gives a laugh as she starts jogging again. ] … [ the silence that follows is nothing if a bit awkward, but she eventually decides to go there, so to speak. ] I take it they watch us even out here?
no subject
Rumlow smiles at her and laughs lightly, matching her own. They start up the pace, his eyes tracking along their path, as if making sure they don't run into someone else to add to their little party. Really, he's keeping a keen eye on their surroundings, memorizing anything that seems noteworthy. When Pepper speaks up, Rumlow shifts his gaze towards her, briefly catching hers.]
Everywhere. Mics can't pick us up so easy though. So's long's we talk low, we oughta be fine.
[He gestures with a nod to turn them further towards the treeline and away from the town.]
Really takes away from the whole idyllic mountain town idea, y'know?