2011 06 30: Meanwhile, Back At Home...

Searching database...
Mission report found.

Mission Name: Meanwhile, back at home…
Date of Mission: June 30, 2011
Locale: Training Area, Division HQ

Recruit Mickey Lynch meets some Division personnel. A fight ALMOST breaks out.

Hannah Mickey Argyle

It's mid evening after most recruits have finished training for the day. Which is to say, it's time for Mickey's personal training to begin. As always, the youth manages to make working out look like some sort of time trial combined with a power lifting event. His NFL Linebacker sized frame working a heavy bag with the second biggest man in the room behind it, trying to use his side and both of his arms to keep the other man's fists from causing some sort of damage to his ribs. This going on for a few more seconds or so before the other recruit calls, "I'm good Mick, I think I'm good," and he pats the big kid on the shoulder on his way back to the dorms.
Turning in place, that portion of his exercise seemingly complete, he wanders around the training area for a moment before he starts to eyeball the elliptical machines and heads that way. "See you later Josh," he calls to the departing recruit.

The new recruits may not have been here long enough to meet everyone properly, and here's one of them: Hannah arrives in her casual-business attire, with a clipboard in one hand and a subtle headset that's mostly hidden by her long hair. She is arguably the least striking-looking woman the new recruits have seen, lacking the sharp beauty of Amanda, or the general good looks of most female field agents; instead she compensates with a maternal softness. Still, in her attire and a badge clipped to the breast of her top, she still makes sure it's clear she's all about business.
"Two tickets from Cairo to Istanbul, this Friday, 7:35 am. Confirmed." She can be heard speaking into her headset, even as she comes to a stop just inside the training area, where she eyes the two recruits for a moment. "Right, I'll let them know."

Stepping up onto the elliptical, Mickey turns his head once or twice to look towards Hannah, and even tilts his head slightly as he listens in. That said, he doesn't really have any reason to interrupt her while she is on a call. Being the only recruit left in the room, he continues his workout quietly. His eyes wandering while he does, taking in information casually. There is no rule against paying attention, in fact, good spy training should be almost definitively built around paying attention to such 'inane' details.
After warming up his legs, he hits a few buttons and then starts some sort of mountain course, his preference for such a workout. "Ma'am," he calls towards her from a dozen feet away over the light whirring of the machine under him, "Good evening, rather." No particular reason to greet her, but it seems like the polite thing to do.

Hannah flashes an easy smile at the remaining recruit who so politely greeted her, but offers nothing in return. Instead, she glances up at the ceiling, perhaps at the lights? Or air ventilation? Well, /something/. Scribbling something down on her clipboard, she heads over to the row of exercise machines, taking down some readings from each until she reaches Mickey's elliptical. In fact, she stops in front of the machine, peers at something on the machine, and takes note, before finally looking up at the exercising recruit.
"Mr. Lynch." She greets, again with that amiable, easy smile. Hey, she knows his name! "Looks like you're adjusting well. Keeping busy with exercises and all."

A swift nod of the head as Mickey slows down and leans across the front of the machine to look down at her, smiling politely still. His eyes wander down from her face to her clipboard and then back up again. It might almost look like he was checking her out, but a more attentive eye might catch that he was mostly curious about what was on the board. "Thank you, yes I am, adjusting well, I mean. It seems like there are no shortage of hours in the day when all you have are exercise machines and training areas, but I can't say its hurt my cardio any," he replies softly and thinking a moment, goes on, "You have me at a disadvantage miss, you know my name, and I don't know yours. You can call me Mickey, by the way, I'm just a recruit, after all." As if she didn't know.

He might catch a glimpse of rows of numbers scribbled down, which of course doesn't tell him much. "That's good to hear. It's too bad, sometimes recruitment can be… traumatic." She lifts her chin, and it's her turn to give the young man a once over - and in her case, there's no clipboard to check out. "Hannah Styles." The woman finally offers. "I work in logistics and administration, and we are generally pretty low on the priority list for new recruits." A bit of a self-depreciating smile to go with that. "You are a bit of a martial arts prodigy, right?"

"Pleasure to meet you Hannah," a pause, "Miss Styles, I mean. I don't know about prodigy, but I'm pretty good," Mickey replies with some humility, he doesn't really call himself anything of the sort, but doesn't really flinch from offering pointers to instructors either. "My father used to say that anyone who ignores the guts of the machine is just asking for a problem down the line, and I bet you're one of the cogs that is far too often overlooked, you have my thanks," he tells her with a smile. The smile coinciding with her own searching look. He comes across as calm and collected and when he speaks, it is with confidence, "Might a recruit inquire as to what brings you to our sweaty neck of the woods?"

"Your father is a wise man." Hannah notes with an idle wag of her pen in Mickey's direction, but leaves it at that. As for his question about her purpose here? It elicits a quick, seemingly aimless lookabout the training center. "I'm sorry, it's classified." She replies… yet there is a just a hint of a barely-restrained grin tugging at the corners of her lips. Or is that just her normal expression? It's a bit difficult to tell. "But you /can/ help me with something. What's your shoe size, as well as your waist and leg sizes?"

"Shoe size, I'm a size fifteen, I can't really tell you my waist and inseam though. My waist changes based on how much work I've been doing with my abs, and I've been doing a lot, and I've never needed to get pants measured before, I just tried them on until they fit," Mickey replies and steps down from the elliptical, ever so tall. Leaning forward again, he looks at her clipboard and asks, "You mean, they didn't have that on there already? Isn't there some way to measure that stuff?" This may or may not be an actual question. Turning in place, all the same, he picks up his workout towel and wipes down the machine quickly. "My father is a 'wiseguy' technically, but I'm sure that's on your clipboard too," he points out, being funny. Though it's only really funny if she actually has that biographical information available.

There's the sound of an idle whistle from the doorway. Argyle walks in, swinging a padded case that looks like it holds something spy-like. He's in a suit, which, from the recruit's perspective, is strange. Normally he's just in casual clothing or workout clothes. Whatever is in the case, it appears to be something he's in a good mood about.

"Not this particular one." Hannah deadpans, with a tap on the clipboard with her pen. "Believe me, I wish Recruitment provides details of everything down to shoe sizes, but they tell me those aren't stuff they focus on when they're out recruiting. So it falls to administration to take care of…"
Her comments trail off as she turns towards the arrival of a new person. Of course, this would be a person she knows. "Mr. Argyle." She greets, but her gaze is drawn towards the case he carries, after a quick glance at his suit. "I trust everything is in order?"

A quick nod to Argyle and Mickey continues to towel off his neck and forehead. He doesn't say anything to the man who appears to be headed out for either some rather fancy field testing, or on a mission, in either case, he knows better than to ask for details and simply offers a, "Good luck, Socks," and shoots the other man a nod of the head.
Returning his attention to Hannah then, Mickey glances at her clipboard again and smiles slightly, "Of course it doesn't. I suppose it might have made my transition all the more traumatic, as you put it, if they'd made me stand on a stool and get measured by some woman who looks like a school marm, or some old Italian, as part of my recruitment." There is then a vision which dances before his eyes as he allows his imagination to picture that scene. Disturbing. "You're right though, their main focus seems to be on whether we'd fit into a GAP commercial."

Or both. "There was awhile we were only recruiting people who looked like they could be in Abercrombie and Fitch. But they couldn't take a punch," drawls Argyle. He nods to Hannah. "More or less. I'm a little early, but it seems like I go so long between putting this thing on, I always have to allow myself a little extra time." He straightens his tie, Letterman-style.

Hannah actually takes a step back and eyes Argyle like a trained tailor. "I can get it adjusted." She holds up her pen at arm's length and evidently uses it to visual gauge Argyle - or his suit. "Looks a bit tight around the shoulders. Might be the drycleaning cycle." She lowers the pen then. "We'll get it fixed ASAP. Let me know if you need anything else."
And with that, Hannah turns a sidelong glance to Mickey. "Did you say something about a school marm?"

"Yes, sorry, I was rambling," Mickey suddenly feels like he is the kid sitting at the grown-up table and looks between the two a few times. "I bet it's because he has been hitting the weights, a good few days on a bench and anyone's chest will get bigger," he points out and nods authoritatively.

"If it was tight around the stomach, I'd blame the dry cleaner. Tight around the shoulders? I like Mickey's explanation better." Argyle quirks a grin. He nods once to Hannah. "I think I'm good. Hotel room's a good location. Sight lines aren't ideal, but they'll do."

"I've arranged transportation for you, as well as backup." Hannah inclines her head at Argyle. "Drop by Ops later so I can give you the info?" Of course, they can't talk about details in front of recruits, right? It's ALL business. As for the question about the suit, Hannah glances between the two men and quietly clears her throat. "Yes, the weights. I'll put that down as the official reason."

A laugh. Mickey is amused and no longer feeling like the odd man out, joke successful. Reaching up, he runs a hand through the as yet, rather short hair on top of his head and scratches a bit at his scalp. "So, Miss Styles, if you wanted to have me measured, I'll be around, I guess?" and he looks back towards Argyle. A question pops to mind and he finds himself asking before he can filter, "Do you get to hit the mini-bar?"

"Sure. I'm going to see the location. I know we've got recon, but it's never the same as seeing things on the ground." Argyle tugs at his tie again. "Feels like a damn age since I've monkeysuited in the field. His brow raises and he cracks a grin at Mickey's question. "If you're asking me to slip you back some mini JD, best not to ask that in front of Madam Requisition," he nods towards Hannah.

"I'm happy to report I didn't hear anything." Hannah offers, with a completely straight, and faux-innocent face. "But Mr. Argyle, you're hitting the mini-bar /afterwards/, I hope, not before. You know how senior directorship wants to keep our safety numbers up." It's a deadpan, even if it's subtle one. "That reminds me, you can pick up the comm pack before you leave. We have a sat link set up, and I'll be your contact if required."

Having finished wiping down, Mickey just laughs and shakes his head innocently at the idea of being slipped liquor on the side. "You sure are proficient," he remarks as an aside to Hannah, happy to have become acquainted with her here and not several months from now when he is working on his final mission. At least, that's what he tells himself. "Safety numbers," he repeats, recognizing the joke.

"We should have a sign when you walk in." Argyle raises his hands in the air and mimes as if there was a sign, "Welcome to Division. Days since drinking on-the-job related spy injuries: 4"" He drops his hands down. "The only drugs I'm on are the ones the higher ups slip into his food." Is he kidding? He might be kidding. Maybe.

That easy smile returns to Hannah's face. "Just because you don't see it, doesn't mean we aren't tracking the statistics." Is she serious? Maybe! As for Argyle's remarks about drugs, well, Hannah shakes her head and turns sidelong to Mickey. "You have nothing to worry, Mr. Lynch. Mickey." She corrects herself. "Everything you consume here is checked. There is no unregulated substance in your meals." Note that she said no 'unregulated' substance, which may or may not include drugs.

"I wasn't worried, I feel fine, hell, they did surgery on some cornea damage last week and I'm seeing better than ever. That, and the Soylent Green supplement makes me feel extra smart," Mickey replies and looking around, moves back up onto his elliptical, he had begun to feel useless just standing around talking like some sort of civilian.

Everything is regulated for those poor recruits. There's probably statistics for how often they go to the can. Makes it easy to regulate people when they're not allowed out of the base. "Oh, I do not doubt that you have gigawads or whatever, of data on our every waking moment down here," says Argyle with a chuckle. "Maybe that's an excuse for me to get out of the spy cave a little more often."

"But you don't." Hannah smiles wider at that, head tilting at Argyle meaningfully. "Maybe you secretly enjoy the attention." Leaving it at that, Madam Requisition turns back to Mickey, watching him get back on the elliptical. "I'll send someone down to take your measurements after your exercise routine. Can't have you run around completely naked for the next phase of your training." She points out helpfully.

Leaning into the workout, Mickey nods his head at Hannah. "Sounds good," he mentiones and tries to gauge the hour. It seems like it must be approaching the point where the lights will turn off in the training area, he has been here for quite a while already since training exercises ended. "Though the freedom to run around sans clothing would be sure to provoke no shortage of attention from Amanda," he points out thoughtfully. "I guess I won't even joke about it."

"Attention. And psychoanalysis." Argyle's usually a guy to make jokes, but mention of Amanda just makes him purse his lips. "Speaking of, though. Do they make a suit that allows you to throw a punch without it feeling like you're gonna tear the back out of it? I need James Bonds' tailor."

"That's precisely why we have to make sure you're properly dressed." Hannah points out sagely to Mickey. Yeah, getting Amanda upset is a Bad Thing (tm). In any case, she doesn't seem overly concerned that the lights might go off soon, but then she must be well aware of these things. Shaking her head to Argyle, Hannah also notes. "We can try to tailor a suit that gives you some slack to throw a punch, but otherwise, sorry, I can't do Science Fiction."

"They should be able to let out your clothes for a holster or to throw punches, a good tailor can do that," Mickey points out, speaking from some experience. Though that he knows that might fly in the face of what he'd told Hannah earlier. Confusing man. "How long before you need to head there, Argyle?"

"The problem is, when they cut it to move, then it doesn't fit properly. And sometimes there are missions where a poorly-cut suit is a dead giveaway." Argyle sets the weapons case down and rolls his shoulder. He looks suddenly self-conscious. "Mmm, no set time. Like I said, it's just recon."

"In this line of work, sometimes form is more important than function." Hannah explains to Mickey. "Doesn't help to have a suit that allows you to backflip in it, when you get ID'd from a mile away because you're wearing an "action suit"." Beat. "That sounded like something Amanda would say." Note to self!

"I could totally do a backflip in a regular suit," Mickey points out with a laugh and continues to work his elliptical, glistening with sweat, he just keeps at it, on mile ten or whatever it might be, just now. Something ridiculous. "So, am I going to be getting a suit?" he asks.

"You can do a backflip, but can you fight off three guys after doing a backflip? It's a tricky balance. Women have it worse, though." Argyle glances Hannah's way. "Lots of situations where it would look strange for a woman to be wearing a pair of sensible flats. You think doing a backflip in a suit is hard. They have to kick ass in stilettos."

"Three guys? I can fight off three guys after doing a backflip one handed," Mickey replies and flexes all macho-like. He doesn't even comment on the stilettos thing, save to say, "I'll have to ask Geoff about that sometime. But I've been told by several people that I should never cross-dress, apparently I'd look rather ridiculous. I'm not sure how to take it." Straight face.

Hannah glances between the two men at all this talk about fighting in clothes. And cross-dressing. "Geoff has that one niche covered. I don't think we need a backup for him." She states flatly to Mickey. Straight face, too! "And don't look at me. I avoid stilettos when possible, and it's not my job to kick ass anyway. I leave that sort of thing to field agents, like…." She trails off momentarily - maybe she was going to say Nikita, but changes her mind. "…Crewe."

"Do you think you can fight off this guy?" Argyle asks. He presses a thumb against his chest. He cocks his head and gives Mickey a challenging look. He glances sidelong to Hannah. "I bet you can still kick ass more than the average person. I mean, hell, even Birkhoff's decent."

"Yeah," Mickey replies and continues to work out, he doesn't really even seem to think twice about it, just continues to do that standard elliptical motion. There is nothing in his phrasing or means of responding that makes him seem cocky, just confident in his abilities. "I prefer you to Crewe," he points out to Hannah, being honest. "You're less, what's the word?" he thinks, "Batshit crazy."

Hannah gives the exercise Mickey another once over. "I'm going to say… no." She answers Argyle's question. "I've seen his file, and I can see his muscles." She doesn't seem upset about it though, instead maintaining that gentle smile on her lips. "Anyway, I prefer desk jobs, so I leave the violence to those more suited to it." A quirked brow is shot at Mickey, amused. "Thank you, I think. But I strongly advise against speaking that way of a field agent." See? That smile is still there!

"Them's fighting words, recruit," says Argyle. Rather than being defensive, the weapons engineer actually looks amused. "I bet I can take you down, while wearing this suit." He rests his hands inside his pockets and levels his gaze on Mickey. Uh oh. Hannah might find herself a referee.

Mickey lets the machine roll to a stop and questions, "Are you sure you can get your suit dirty?" being utterly serious and spends a moment to wipe a bit of the sweat off. Walking over towards where the punching pads are, he puts on the only set they have in his size, since they'd had to order him for those big thick hands of his. Shaking out his hands at his sides as he gets into position, he lets his neck hang and stretches out some of his muscles a little, having been working out for a while.

Hannah folds up her clipboard against her chest, glancing at Mickey first, then Argyle. "If you insist on giving an unsanctioned and unscheduled close combat training session to recruit Lynch, Mr. Argyle…" She affords an entirely officious tone at this. "… then I must insist you do so with your suit off." Beat. "We won't have time to tailor-make another suit for you if this one gets torn." Priorties, people!

"I don't want to box you. I'm not talking a straight out contest of strength in a ring. That, pardon my language, doesn't do shit for you in this job. Unless you're going undercover as a boxer looking for his big break." Argyle reaches up and loosens his tie. "I'm talking about tactical fighting, the kind you'll use out there." He points out in a vague direction. Hannah's warning makes him frown, but he does shrug off the jacket. "I have a backup pair of pants." He tugs the tie off, then drapes both over the nearest clean surface.

"I didn't think you were talking about boxing," Mickey replies with a friendly smile as he moves out onto the mat and continues to stretch, even letting out a deep baritone yawn. "I need my fight music," he decides as he gets into position and starts to give himself a proper ring-side introduction, "In the blue corner, weighing in at two-hundred and forty three pounds, fighting out of South Boston, Mickey "the Lynchman" Lynch." A pause, "And in the red corner, weighing in at, I don't know, two hundred and five pounds, Marcus "Socks" Argyle."

Argyle steps forward and looks to be ready to take his spot on the mat. But then, his phone is chirruping rather insistently. He holds up a hand to stall Mickey, then answers it. "Yeah." Silence. A frown spreads. "Yeah. All right. I'll be right up." And then he snaps the phone closed. "Sorry, Rocky. The boss wants to see me." And you don't keep Percy waiting.

The 'clean surface', in this case, is evidently Hannah! Ahem. Rephrasing, Hannah holds out a hand to Argyle and offers to take his jacket and tie, because she clearly doesn't want the precious suit to be hanging on some dirty treadmill. Carefully smoothing out the jacket, she drapes it over one arm and steps back, but then Argyle announces his departure. Well then, the jacket and tie are offered right back. "Better make it quick." She adds.

"See you around Socks!" A turn and he seizes his new dramatis personae, "Adriannnn!" Mickey calls out and does a sort of staggered, wobbling step towards Hannah, all melodramatic. Then, like a light switch, he flips the act back off and removes the velcro attached gloves from his hands, throwing them over to the sidewall. "Well, I'm done with my exercise now," he tells her in good spirits, "Let's see about those pants.."

Argyle murmurs a thank you to Hannah and offers her a smile. He takes the jacket and tie from her, but doesn't pause to put them back on. It's Percy, man. Dude's scary. Well, Roan's scarier, but in a different kind of way. "I'll see you both around." He lifts a hand, then heads towards the big office.

Previous Log
« 2011 07 26: Lagniappe