PHD #441: Communion
Summary: Aching from his workout, Sofia and Ciro bond over his sore bones.
Date: 13 May 2042 AE
Related Logs: None
Sofia Ciro 
Athletics Area
A large pair of mats dominates the center of this room, their centers taped-out for a small area to practice boxing or other martial arts. Around the outside are treadmills, bikes, weights, and an impressive variety of gym equipment to help tone and shape the bodies of the crew. To one side of the room is the locker room while at the rear is a hatch that leads back to the oversized swimming pool. Off to the side is a rack that holds boxing gloves, pugil sticks, and the associated pads for the sticks.
Post-Holocaust Day: #441

Ciro has returned to the athletics area, and the passing rumor is that the man's been pushing himself to extremes, working out all over the deck today. The last news placed him in the athletics area more than four hours ago, yet he's back for more. This time, however, he's got relaxation in mind. Stepping out from the locker rooms barefooted, he steps into the pool's area and down the small step-stairs at the edge of the pool. Lowering himself to sit on one of the steps, he leans back and closes his eyes.

Sofia hears rumors! She's good at that. She might seem worried, but she's going to invade the pool before the gaggle of Marines arrives and dunks her in revenge. For now, she has on a robe over her bathing suit and a small duffle bag. She hums and sets them down away from the pool, turns and. "GAH! I thought I beat the Marines here!" She pouts at Ciro and smiles. "Well, Mohawk is okay."

Ciro, for lack of a better word, looks exhausted. Cracking one eye open, he smirks quietly and watches Specialist Wolfe from his lounging position in the water. He brings his sore arms to stretch out before him, parallel to the water. "You're damn right mohawk is okay. Mohawk is tired." Ciro replies, nodding his head softly towards her. "How you been, Wolfe?"

Sofia smiles, she looks sympathetic. "Poor Mohawk. Don't work too hard, okay?" She is concerned at least as she steps into the water. "I'm alright. Alive," She nods. She takes a deep breath as she hits water. "How about you? Aside from tired?" Peer.

The trouble with sore muscles after a heavy workout is that all of the aching pain is below the surface of the skin. Ciro simply appears tired, but the way he slowly moves his shoulders gives it all away. "Alive is a good step in the right direction. I guess I'm alive too? I don't know. It's been a rough day so I'm hoping everything stays quiet. I need the next eight hours to be calm." He chuckles softly, closing his eye again, trusting her in the water. "Where've you been hiding? I was expecting to bump into you in the hallways."

Sofia watches Ciro. "If you sink, at least I float well." She furrows her brows. "And short of an honest to goodness boarding or riot, we should be fine," She nods. She reaches over, and pokes him. "Definitely alive. Feels like it anyway. How do you feel about brains?" She peers at him. "As for me? I'm around, just likely missed one another in passing."

Ciro's face scrunches up as he's poked, forcing his eye to open to look back in her direction. "I'm not going to fall asleep. I'm just achey. I did my death-march today up and down the halls, and well…about made myself puke three or four times. I'm so sore." He smiles. "How do I feel about brains? In what way? Are you asking if I think that they're tasty or are you asking how I feel about intelligent people?"

"Aw. Well, I give awesome backrubs if you feel too sore," One eye closes. Sofia looks sympathetic at any rate. "Death marches are called that for a /reason/ silly." She scrunches her nose up. "Poor Mohawk." Her eyebrows furrow. "And um, mostly the first. Though ironically I do have a shirt that says 'I wish these were brains'," She can at least make a joke at her expense.

Ciro laughs quietly at her reference to her breasts, cracking his other eye open in time to give her a sardonic look. One side of his lip raises in a mock sneer, and he promptly splashes water in her direction. As if giving an answer to the backrub, he slowly sits up from his reclined position to lean forward with his elbows on his knees. "Mostly the first? Well…they're a little bland for my taste and the texture's a little off. Then again I haven't had to cannibalize anyone recently." He pauses, letting his head lull towards the water. "I like intelligence as long as said intelligent person isn't smarmy about it."

At least she's a sense of humor about a now unalterable part of herself. She grins and eeks at the water splash. "Hey! Gotta declare an attack first," She sticks her tongue out. She hesitates. Is that an accepting position. Well, she'll move closer to see. Her eyes widen at Ciro. "I see. I'm sorry." She won't push the subject. "And I'm smarmy! I think. No? Hmmm." Ponder. One eye closes. "Well, I enlisted with a degree… so not ambitious." This is a point to ponder.

Ciro turns his head slowly to glance over his shoulder towards her, scooting forward to make some room for her. Yes, it's an invitation. "No, you're not smarmy. Smarmy would be you pointing out to me that if I'd only applied myself I'd have made officer, or pointing out how your intelligence leads you to figure everything out." He clears his throat. "For example, if you were to say right now that you don't have a problem with sore muscles because you were smart enough to qual for a position that allowed others to do the heavy lifting for you? I'd throw you into the center of the pool."

Aw. Sofia smiles, looking touched. She sits behind him then and sets to rub his shoulders and back. Her hands are a bit calloused, a testament to her occupation. She grins, looking amused. "Weeelll…" She giggles. "Okay, I'm not that mean and I doubt I'm very aerodynamic. I'd probably tear your rotator cuff or something," She notes. Sofia is NOT one of the smaller women on board. Sure, she's a slender git as her height goes, but she's /not/ petite. "So relax, King Mohawk. You're in good company. Honestly, being an officer just depends on if you're good at management or not. I'd have panic attacks myself."

Leaning back into her hands, Ciro scoots a little closer so that she doesn't have to reach so far to get to him. Immediately, her hands pressing into his skin at the shoulders sets him at ease, the densely coiled muscles beneath his skin are tight and angry. Where she presses to his flesh, his skin remains slightly white before the color returns to it. "I'm an NCO, so I can't say that I don't have to manage a little bit, but the difference is that I just kind of…hand over orders that have been handed to me in the first place. It's not that hard of a job." His eyebrows lower and his shoulder lifts as she finds a particularly good spot. "Gods damned, Sofia…" He chuckles. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

Sofia smiles. She nods and frowns, seeing his skin and muscles react. There's a bit of hesitation before pressing on, to loosen the angry muscles. "I see. Fair enough. And right there?" Grin. She blushes, seeming amused she found a good spot. She tends to the back and shoulder rub dutifully, amused and pleased all at once. "Yeah, go for it. I'll let you know if I won't answer," She promises. She is quiet for a moment in her seat.

"Well…how do I put this?" He chuckles softly, keeping things light hearted. "For someone who doesn't seem comfortable with references being made about her boobs, you don't hesitate to make those references yourself." He chuckles, keeping his vision off of her, making it likely easier to hold this conversation. "What's up with that?"

Sofia pauses. Then smiles. She hmms. "Okay. You would smack someone who insulted your mother right? But if she's mean to you, you can say a mean thing or two. Because she's /your/ mom. Sometimes I can accept the fact I'm - this way and other times I'd like to shrivel up and die of embarrassment because I look like a skanky bimbo just … in anything I wear." There's some shame. Even in humor. "Make sense?" But her hands are steady at least.

"Yeah it makes sense but I think you're way too hard on yourself. Smack me if this is too sensitive of a subject, but you don't look like a bimbo. You're in engineering, and pretty much everyone I know acknowledges you as one of the sweet ones. To add to it…if you don't mind me noting, they're clearly natural." His ear turn a slight shade of read, his back to her as he talks. "Bimbos get them done fake." He lowers his head, letting out a quiet groan as she works out the tension near his spine. His powerful shoulders flex, arching back a bit.

A pause. Then a smile. "Thanks. And no, it's um, pretty obvious." Sofia's face goes red. "That's really kind of them. I'm kind of a coward, at best," Her eyebrows furrow. "And it's - alright, they're not exactly stealthed and there's only so much I can do with ace bandages and a bra," She notes wryly. "My kingdom for a corset I suppose," She sighs. She looks amused as his ears turn red. "I suppose so. I can't grasp why someone would do that. But grass is always greener I guess." She shrugs at that. "That too much?"

"No, no no that's not too much." Ciro chuckles, growling a little bit as he speaks. "Just right." He clarifies, letting his head lull once more. "Bandages and a bra?" He doesn't seem to understand. "Wait, so when I usually see you around you're still wrapping them down? That makes a kind of sense. Some days you look…different."

Sofia smiles at the growl. "Good," She nods. "Yeah. For modesty mostly," She admits. "That and so they don't bother me while I work," She furrows her eyebrows. "I'm shocked you noticed. Should I be flattered?" Her expression is definitely /amused/ at this point. "But don't sweat it. I get shy about it but I know people can't really … miss 'em." Sigh.

The side of Ciro's cheek turns upwards, an obvious sign of a smile from her vantage point. "You could be flattered, sure, just don't be awkward about it, at least not around me. You know how it goes. All men notice, but there are some people around here with more tact than others. I happen to suffer a lack of communication with most people, which goes far beyond having tact to the point of being a bit of a hermit." His head turns, glancing back at her, at least in a way that allows him the ability to see her arm kneading at his shoulder and little else. "Thanks for doing this, by the way, you're a life saver."

Sofia smiles back. "Thanks. I'll do my best," She nods. "And hey, you're awesome." She pauses to ruffle his mohawk gently, a gesture of fondness. "So don't sweat it, okay? If Ximena thinks you're rad, that's awesome too." She nods. She keeps her hands steadily and gently at work. "You're welcome. It's what friends are for, right?" Her smile appears again. "So think nothing of it and don't hesitate to ask if you go all Death March on me again."

The side of his face scrunches up and he leans back into the ruffling of his mohawk, having learned to just give into the affection. Perhaps rubbing the mohawk is starting to become a good luck ritual. "So what you're saying is, that the corps of engineers on board the Cerberus have finally given me their official stamp of approval? Does this give me unlimited access to the couch in the office for when I have bad dreams?" He chuckles, letting his head lower again to enjoy the soothing backrub. "I've been trying to keep in shape, and you know how I'm always jogging? Well…I took it a bit too far today, but that's not a bad thing. It'd been a while since I'd pushed myself so hard."

Sofia giggles at that. She smiles as he leans into it. Her green eyes are bright. "Sure, why not." She nods. "I'll even drop a pillow beneath your head and make sure no one doodles a dong on your face," She promises. She keeps her hands steadily at work. "And yeah, I see you jogging lots. Just be careful, alright? Or you'll end up in medbay and be a sad, bored Mohawk. And that's no good," She nods sagely. "But I am glad it felt good."

"So you'll sit there and stand guard for me while I sleep?" Ciro cracks one eye open, wincing a little as he turns at the hip to get a better look at her. He winks and mouths the word 'creepy' at her, teasing. Perhaps he's naive. His eyes close and his shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath, turning back to the center of the pool. "Frakkin gods, Wolfe, that feels so frakkin' good. You sure you don't need me to…" He pauses, his shoulder rocking as she rubs. "…pay you back with laundry or somethin? I'm gonna owe you one."

"Sure. I do lots of logistics," She admits. She phhbts and sticks her tongue out. "That's the thanks I get for keeping someone from drawing dongs on your face? Really?" She pouts. She looks sympathetic as he's wincing though. Sofia frowns and smiles. "Sure. It's what friends are for," She remarks. "And if you do this again just come find me, okay?" She peers over. "We do care about you," She nods. "In a non-creepy way. So don't sweat it. We'll work it out. For now, go into Chillhawk mode." Grin. Sofia pauses. "You are going to rest after this right?"

"Are you kidding me? I'm going to pass out the moment I hit the bunk, at least as long as I don't have to worry about someone drawing dicks on my face. By the way, congratulations for kicking the wingdoodle habit." His chuckle is soft and exhausted, a callback from a previous conversation of theirs. Sighing, he finally relaxes the rest of his back, leaning back towards her as she works. "Chillhawk mode…" His lips curl into a grin. "Wolfe? When you're not working, where do you go? Tell me something about you that I don't know. You share just about as much as I do, you're a closed book."

"Awesome. And hah!" She smiles at the soft chuckle. "Well, good. You definitely earned it." Sofia nods. "Or at least, I'd drag you over that way," She admits. Then a smile. "Me? Lots of places. I like to watch the stars, read books, take a nice long shower when I can… I drift," She admits. Her smile widens a bit. "Isn't that funny? I talk so much but it's never everything about me." She shrugs. "Hmm. Like what? About from before? I have a degree in Electrical Engineering, I sang Opera with the family - though I never made it as a model. Couldn't stand it." Snort. "Not the figure they wanted anyway." Sigh.

The man's eyebrows lift at the mention of modeling, forcing his head to bob a few times. "You never mentioned the modeling, but you did mention the opera. Strange combination. I can picture the modeling, though, you have this way that you turn when you flash your smile at people that I figured probably got flashed once or twice at a camera. Well practiced, you know?" His shoulders flex and he leans forward, turning at the waist to look at her, giving her an obvious end to the backrub. Eye contact resumes and his lip tugs to the side in a small smile. "You've been really patient with me, Sofia. You'll let me know if I get too maddening, okay?"

"There was some acting but I got tired of always being the villain character. Dark hair, green eyes. Good moustache twirler I guess." Sigh. THen she goes red and laughs. "Thanks. But most of it's sincere." She stops then. "That enough?" She tilts her head. "And of course. But -you don't bug me at all," Her eyes meet his for a moment, as she leans. Then a beeping from her bag. "Ah, shoot. I'm up soon. But … it was good to see you. Be well and sleep extra tight," She ruffles his mohawk again and stands.

Her forward lean, that obvious slow, forward leaning interrupted by the beeping from her bag causes Ciro to blink, glancing to the side as she rises up out of the water. "I will, you know where to find me." He replies, wincing as he rolls his left arm in its socket while she rises and steps away from him. Watching her step out of the pool and walk away, he considers her quietly before turning his attention back to the center of the pool. "You stay safe, Wolfe. Have a good shift."

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