2011 06 19: Slam Bam Boom Thud

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Mission Name: Slam Bam Boom Thud
Date of Mission: Jun 19 2011
Locale: Training Area — Division HQ

Mickey gives some of the agents a few sparring tips. Alex comes by after her first day out since her recruitment, and Michael makes a special appearance.

Alex Geoff Jezebel Michael Mickey

It's the middle of the day and the recruits are training. Doing whatever it is that they are doing. Mickey is currently doing some sort of mountain course on the elliptical, his body fairly covered with sweat. Let's not romanticize sweat, sure it's sort of glistening, but he looks like an NBA player after four quarters, his body dripping and his arms churning. All the same, his breathing is steady and his heart beat, if Geoff were to swing a glance at the display, is rather impressively low. Athletic prowess at its finest. He stares off into space as he moves, his big legs churning hard.

Geoff comes in as he so often does before cover-work to get a workout in. In his usual wifebeater and nondescript shorts, towel around his neck, he approaches one of the training dummies. After a quick stretch of his arms, he starts to warm up, working the body with a few jabs.

Slowing his run, Mickey seems to have hit the tail-end of his elliptical nightmare and sliding off of the machine, he grabs the elastic bandages for his hands and proceeds over towards where Geoff has started jabbing and grabs a dummy of his own. His motions with the bandages are quick and practiced, protecting his wrists and knuckles from damage. Though with hands as heavy and wrists as thick as he has, it seems like a bit of a moot point, but he seems to be comfortable doing it that way, and so does. "Hey," he says towards Geoff.

Geoff turns when he's hailed, stopping his assault on the foam dummy. "Hey," he returns, nodding. "How's it going, man?" he cranes his neck to make sure he's not interrupting a training session. Then his eyes are back on Mickey.

"Usual," Mickey replies. Having finished wrapping his wrists and knuckles, he starts to hit the foam dummy. Even as he is punching, he is falling into a rhythm, almost as if this were more relaxing than just sitting around. "I mean, you know, training, training, training," he explains and gestures towards the elliptical. "I think they're planning to graft me to the machines."

Geoff nods, turning back toward the dummy and going back to practicing his form. It's pretty strong form, but his is not exactly a boxer's form. Instead it's pretty recognizable as military-style hand-to-hand fighting. "They're probably happy to get in a recruit who really knows what he's doing in a fight."

"In a fist fight? Yeah, everyone has to be good at something, they say," Mickey replies honestly and thinks about it. Shrugging then, he resumes hitting the dummy, holding back not even in the slightest, he goes through a series of blows; solar plexus, throat, hook to the jaw, another hook but with the other hand, this one to the temple, a snapping kick to the side, and following that he grabs the head of the dummy and with a movement, snaps his knee up into the face of the dummy. "Do you think that's true? Everyone has one thing that they're good at? Or more, obviously, but one thing that if they find it in their lifetime, they can really just, you know, run with?"

"Yeah, in a fist fight," Geoff says. "Sometimes you have to get up close and personal," he says, slamming a knee into the dummy's stomach as one hand goes behind its neck. "I dunno," he says. "I guess people have potential. But sometimes it's hard to find the right thing. Anyway, obviously you don't just know how to fist fight. Being in good shape helps a lot." He deals the dummy an elbow blow to the nose and then jams the heel of his hand up under the chin.

"Yeah, good training helps," Mickey confirms and continues to rattle the training dummy, which must be bolted to the ground because he sure is hitting it awfully hard. "Do you think you've found your one thing? Or, multiple things? I've always wished I could play an instrument, but with the exception of drumming, I don't think I have the hands for it. I'd want to rip the strings off and use them like a garotte the first time someone didn't like my playing," he comments, smiling to show that he doesn't actually mean that literally.

"I guess," Geoff says. "I think I'm pretty good at my cover job," he says, punching the dummy in the ear, then glancing at Mickey, who's punching the training dummy next to him. "But I can never be really great at it, because obviously we can't make too big a splash out in the real world." He strikes the dummy in the throat.

Watching Geoff, Mickey steps aside and holds out his hand at the throat of other man's dummy. "Watch this angle, you don't want to practice too high, or you run into that teeth thing. A lot of guys like to basically put their hand almost flat to the fucker's chest, and then just jam upwards against the adam's apple to avoid the chin. A good fighter will keep their chin down, you know? So we have to anticipate that when we train, see their hands getting in the way for example. Try to visualize their guard up like this," he raises his hands up, "And do a sweep across their guard to pull it down first. So I'll sweep and then hit the throat." He turns and hits his own dummy again, showing instead of telling. "Just a tip. Sorry."

Jezebel enters in wearing a Division-issued sports bra and tank top, but some non-Division sneakers. She looks a little worn out but smiles when she sees Geoff. "I just keep seeing you around this place." Jezebel says to him, looking over at Mickey. "Who's the new guy?" She asks, before she looks around at the various pieces of equipment, her brows furrowing. What to do first? Since she can't decide, she merely steps back to watch Mickey do what he apparently does best, if his size and zeal is any indication.

Geoff pulls back and looks at Mickey, looking him up and down as the new recruit gives him pointers on how to hit. But instead of reacting unpleasantly, he only smiles. "You better watch who you give your tips to," he advises. "Not everybody'd want to hear that from a green recruit." Then he nods. "I think you know what you're talking about, though. Let's spar sometime, huh?" He doesn't seem concerned with Mickey's skill or the fact that the recruit is much younger and bigger than he is. Neither does he throw off a cocky air. He seems, instead, willing to learn, even from a non-instructor. He looks over his shoulder at Jezebel. "That's because I come around here every day," he says. "This one's still a recruit," he says about Mickey. "I think he's called Mickey. Like that song." He looks over at Mickey. "This is Jezebel."

"Jezebel, pleasure. Yeah, it's Mickey," Mickey confirms and throws a quick nod towards Geoff. "Oh yeah, I know, I try not to correct too much. I'm not that green, I've been here almost two months," he points out as an afterthought and then looks down at himself, "And I think I've lost some mass. What brings you by Jezebel?" he asks, deciding perhaps wisely not to make a Bible reference. Turning his eyes back to Geoff, he asks, "So, what did you mean about making a splash, do you have a job as an artist or producer or something you know, people would see?"

"Needed to clear my head. It was a rough week, Mickey." Jezebel simply says, smiling at the lad before she crosses over to Geoff and puts a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Nice to meet you too. You boys playin' nice down here?" The woman asks, some of her fake Southern accept dripping into her voice. It's out in a jiffy when she says next, "I suppose I could use a few pointers too. Maybe some cardio. Did a series of bag and burns last week. Guy almost caught me once. Almost…" She then quiets down in order to listen to what they were talking about before she'd walked in.

"Sort of," Geoff tells Mickey. He nods at Jezebel. "This guy's okay by me," he says, "So I don't think we'll have any problems. Knows his stuff, but he seems kinda serious to me." He looks back to Mickey with a smirk.

"Pointers are easy, though if you guys want to spar, I think you might find I can offer you both something, perhaps, though we should be sly about it so that the instructors don't notice," Mickey points out and does that whole shifty-eye thing he does when he is being deliberately and comically conspiratorial. Stretching his arms out above his head, he then pushes them out in front of him and starts to unwind the great length of semi-elastic wrap. "Bag and burn. Cool," he decides in completion, no more needs to be said, the simple fact that she is blowing stuff up is, all by itself, rather awesome.

Jezebel glances strangely at Mickey before she laughs. "It could go either one or two ways; the instructors are going to enjoy seeing your intiative or… not so much, which is the less popular and pleasant option, obviously." Jezebel shakes her head as she watches Mickey. "Damn, you're big. Have you ever said, 'I'm the Juggernaut, bitch' to anyone?" She asks him while glancing back to Geoff. "Please stop me from making a Hulk joke," she mutters to him as she watches the kid with some interest. "Sure, I'd love some. I've been doing long range work for so long now that it's hard to get back in the groove of… you know, stabbing things and punching them. But hey, if you two aren't telling, neither am I."

Geoff smiles at Mickey. "Oh, they'll notice everything," he opines. "But if they don't want you to do it, they'll stop you. Otherwise, we'll work it out. If you can't do it as a recruit, I'll wait 'til you graduate." He laughs at Jezebel's comment. "Stop /you/ from making a pop culture reference?" he wonders dubiously.

"Not yet, but if you'd like, I could give it a try sometime and tell you what sort of response I get," Mickey replies, not actually familiar with the reference since he essentially lives rather monastically detached from pop culture. Looking between the two, he points towards the sparring area and then starts doing some stretches, looking between them a few times, standing there. Rather than just stand there watching, he goes over and picks up an exercise ball and a pair of enormous dumbbells, sandwiching between a couple of fingers. Carrying them over, he drops them on either side of the exercise ball and then takes a seat on it. Always doing something.

Accompanied by two armed guards, Alex steps off the elevator, still in civilian clothes and fresh back from being out on her first real mission. She gives the guards a look once she's clear of the elevator — clearly she's not going to try to escape, so kindly back off, is what it says. Once left to her own devices, she wanders further into the training room, looking quite a bit different with her hair down and curly, a pair of tight jeans and a short-sleeved shirt really working for her. Catching sight of the conversation between familiar faces, she offers a little nod in greeting.

"What can I say? I'm a victim of our pop culture driven society, G." Jez says to him with a grin before she looks back to Mickey and shakes her head. "No, that's okay. …Thanks for the offer, though. You might get laughed at. It's… it's… nevermind. Not important." She takes in a deep breath. "To be honest, I had to come here to meet up with Birkhoff and give him some equipment back. After that, I kind of felt like punching something." She pauses, and furrows her brows. "Crap. He's listening. So glad I'm not a recruit anymore…" She tilts her head toward Alex coming off of the elevator and smiles at the younger woman. "Hey, girly. What's the deal with the muscles?"

Geoff winks at Jez, apparently appreciative of both her pop-culture victimization and her wit. He smiles at her, too. "Yeah, apparently I have a test with him next week. I mean, damn." He eyes Alex's companions, frowning a little.

When Alex shows, Mickey gives her the inverted man nod. You know the one. It also serves as a prompt for him to start working with those dumbbells that most people use for double hand presses over the back or out from the chest, not for curls. Which is what he starts doing, and he's not doing max-lifts, he's doing reps. Looking between the two, he tells them, "If I may pretend to be an instructor for a moment- you're both dead from about a hundred and sixteen stab wounds by now." A glance back over to Alex and he indicates that she might come and join them with one of those sideways nods, sort of like he has a fish-line attached to the top of his head and he is reeling her in with his brain-powers.

The guards finally leave her be once Alex is fully inside the room, though she glances back one last time to make sure they really are heading back to the elevator now. "Just got back in. First mission. Apparently that makes me some sort of flight risk," she explains with a roll of her eyes as she saunters over towards the trio, perhaps reeled in by Mickey's forehead-fishing-line. "Who's getting stabbed?" She looks between the three, trying to figure out just how that came to pass.

"You've got me there. I didn't know I was being stabbed either, but if anyone could develop the technology for pain-free stab wounds and invisible ninjas, I assume it would be Division." Jezebel says, grinning at Alex. She nods in understanding about the guards and then shakes her head. "I remember mine too…" She trails off there before snapping back to Mickey. "What exactly are we supposed to be doing then, Mister Teacher?" She asks, looking at Geoff and expressing sympathy by virtue of her big brown eyes.

Geoff looks over at Mickey, this time less pleased by the instruction notes. "Give it a rest a second, recruit," he requests. "I'm full-fledged. When I'm in HQ, I get to pick when people are allowed to pretend-stab me, and when I take a second to talk to the others. I respect you, but you ain't my drill sergeant." He looks back to Alex. "Did you pop somebody?" he wonders.

"Sparring?" Mickey answers Jezebel with a question. A nod then towards Geoff's correction of his etiquette and he goes back to lifting, seated on that exercise ball, focusing on the far side of the gym for a moment before he looks towards Alex. "That's great, yeah, how did it go well?" he asks. He seems to recall some of the vague suggestions as to what she might be doing, but doesn't think he ever found out anything exact.

The next person who steps off of the elevator is Michael, looking somber as ever. He looks like a man with a purpose today and steps right over to Mickey, offering the boy a sleek manilla file folder. "You've been tentatively activated. You'll be working with Crewe. I suggest you get to know her." He then turns to the others and nods his head amiably enough, jaw set tightly. "Jezebel, Geoff, Alex." After greeting them all, he steps out once more to the direction of the elevator and gets back on.

Alex looks a little uncomfortable at Geoff's question, quickly shaking her head. "Not that sort of mission," she mutters. "Just undercover. It earned me a day-pass, that's all." Crossing her arms over her chest, she looks between the three of them again. "You guys look really good for dead people, anyway," she notes, clearly trying to change the subject. She runs a hand down over her hair, still finding it a bit weird to be all done up like this, after so much time living in ponytails and braids. Michael's appearance makes her jump slightly, and she watches him come and go, offering a nod as he greets her.

Jezebel nods at Mickey. "Oh." She says, before assuming a kung fu stance of some sort and making a 'bring it on' motion with her hands at Geoff. "Thanks, Alex. You look pretty good when you're in your civvies. Hair looks nice. I bet Amanda loved torturing you for that." She grins widely and winks at the other girl. "Just wait until you get sent to a high society function. My God, you would think it was your own personal debutante ball." Jezebel also waves at Michael as he passes through, seeming unphased by his sudden appearance.

Geoff smiles at Alex's joking compliment. "Well. I always look good," he claims, although he's dressed pretty dull at the moment. "I'll prob'ly look good when I'm dead." he turns back to face Jezebel. "Oh, am I fighting you?" he asks, settling down a little into an appropriate fighting stance, in which he looks pretty comfortable. "You know, they never send me to the debutante balls," he complains.

Color Mickey surprised. Taking the manila file folder, he drops the weights beside him on either side and stands up, walking a short pace away, reading as he walks he returns and thinks to himself for a moment before setting it on the ground in front of him, placing it between his legs. It's still protected there, whatever the contents might be, he seems to be thinking of how to handle what he has been told. "Which one is Crewe again?" he asks suddenly. Looking between them. "Your stance isn't low enough for that style, is that Crane?" he asks of Jezebel, being utterly serious in his critique. "Good form Geoff."

Alex picks up a lock of hair, regarding it for a moment before dropping it back down. "They'll let me pretend to be a person for a little while, I guess," she muses with a shrug. "I mean… Thanks," she amends with a nod towards Jezebel — perhaps some of those etiquette lessons are actually paying off? She doesn't talk like street trash anymore, at least. "I guess I got off lucky this time. She still made me try on fifty different outfits." She frowns down at her outfit and then looks back up, watching Mickey with some interest as he takes in his own instructions.

"I don't know." Jezebel simply responds. She gets into her actual stance, which is more akin to down home Southern fist-fighting than anything else. She balls her fists up the proper way but tries to blindside Geoff by sweeping his legs out from underneath him. "You'll have that from Amanda. She likes to play Barbies. Wouldn't be surprised if she's got a whooole cabinet full."

Geoff doesn't look particularly alert, but he seems more than ready for Jezebel's offensive, countering the leg sweep with a kick that becomes an attempt to trip Jezebel up and topple her backwards if she's not quick to respond. His face goes totally blank now that he's involved in a sparring match, and he ignores all conversation.

Making a motion towards Alex, Mickey indicates that he'd like her to join him on his side of the sparring match. Perhaps so that he can offer her a pointer here and there, he offers a quick, "Mind your stance, don't over-extend with that kick and put yourself off balance," it's not necessarily a critique in this case, more of a reminder as he may have seen a double-step when there shouldn't be one, something minutiae of detail. Looking down at the folder, he thinks about it for a moment before he resumes his lifting, veins positively popping along his forearms. Rawr.

"I'm not really dressed for sparring," Alex points out, though she does cross over to join him on that side, moving carefully around Jezebel and Geoff — equal parts not wanting to get in the way or get smacked by a flailing limb. "I know, I know. I won't always be wearing sweats when I need to fight," she adds before someone can remind her of that detail. Catching Mickey looking to the folder, she arches her eyebrows slightly. "Nervous?" she asks genuinely.

Mickey did want them to take it seriously. Jezebel jumps back in order to miss Geoff's kick, though her footing is a little shaky. She doesn't spare a glance to either Mickey or Alex, though she does pause. "Wait, did you mention Crewe? Yeah, yeah. I know her. She's insane. She has this huge erection for guns. Seriously. She gives them the day off." Jezebel seems mostly on the defensive right now, waiting for Geoff's next attack. "You won't always be wearing sweats when you need to fight, but you can hope like Hell."

Geoff lets Jezebel stay defensive, side-stepping and aiming a blow at her middle. He's not a huge guy, not necessarily the greatest force of brute strength in the room, but quite nimble, especially with his footwork. He still stays out of the conversation, concentrating on the mock battle.

"I wasn't going to ask you to spar, I just thought it'd be easier to talk," Mickey replies conversationally with Alex and offers her a quick smile before looking back towards Jezebel and Geoff. He seems to be watching everything very carefully, very dutifully. He sees every movement, studies them, studies their flaws. "Keep that guard firm enough to resist a blow Jezebel," he mentions, though to whom that is directed is somewhat vague. A glance back towards Alex and he asks, "Should I be? I guess I am. Not incapacitating or even shaking, just, you know, it's like taking a girl to the prom."

"It's hard to be sure," Alex replies with a wry grin, as to the sparring. She has noticed a certain degree of passion for training from her fellow recruit. Given leave from the sparring match, at least, she settles onto the mats off to one side, sitting back against outstretched arms with her knees up in front of her. "It's normal to be, I think," she replies. "But you can be whatever you want to be. Some people are excited about it, but they're… usually a little different." She takes her eyes off the fighting to look over at him. "The prom, huh? At least they set you up with a date. A crazy date, apparently, but still."

Geoff connects with Jezebel's abs and she hisses through her teeth. She's not the strongest of agents and it was easy enough to knock the wind out of her, but she recovers admirably enough to try to reach out for his arm as he pulls it back in order to twist it. "That is a fierce little jab you've got there, boy. Thank God you don't have those Lee press-ons…" She shakes her head and chuckles at the mention of prom, biting her lower lip. "I spent my prom in a juvenile detention center. We weren't even allowed to fraternize with the boys."

Geoff narrows his eyes a little. "Press-on nails are for tacky bitches," he says, so he must at least be hearing some of the conversation goint on around him. When Jezebel grabs his wrist, he tries to roll it to get it out of her grasp again.

"Not because it's like a date, though I suppose that metaphor works too because you never know what's going to happen. It's the one thing you think about and then the night of, it's all nerves and shaking hands when you're trying to get a girl's bra off," Mickey explains, and one might think he were giving some sort of biographical details. In reality, he never went to the prom and barely saw the inside of his high school. "So, she's crazy. I like crazy girls, they're fun," he decides, trying to see the silver lining. "Don't forget the rest of your body when you're grappling," he encourages them, seeing openings.

Alex doesn't really have too much to say to that, just arching her brows as he talks about getting her bra off. "I don't think you should try that with this," she advises him wryly, not really worried that he would. "I'm sure it'll be fine. They wouldn't give it to you if they didn't think you were ready. And I guess they also figure you can handle the crazy," she grants. "What sort of thing do they want you to do?" She glances back towards the fight, but keeps from offering any critique of her own.

Jezebel's attention is compromised when Mickey mentions liking crazy girls. "Well, you've come to the right place. Welcome to Amanda and Percy's Insane, Troubled Girl Emporium, for all your damaged good needs!" She says to him, before turning her attention back to the brawl at hand. "You grow your own?" She asks Geoff, before listening to Alex and Mickey's conversation a little more closely now. She's clearly curious to hear what the recruit has been assigned too.

Instead of getting his wrist free by turning his arm, Geoff changes tactics and spins his whole body, almost as though he and Jezebel were in the middle of a tango, though it's unclear who'd be leading. He ends up with his back to her and then tries to use that leverage and her own hand on his arm to flip her over his shoulder. A risky move, but it could end the bout if it were successful. "I keep 'em short so I can knock a bitch out," he answers.

"I need to make like a stranger and lure some chick into my van," Mickey answers and as always, tries to keep his answer light while maintaining an appropriate amount of vagueness that he isn't necessarily breaking any rules. Seeing the move being traded back and forth, he tilts his head a little, curious between looks towards Alex. "It's about the mindset, not my actual performance of any one thing or another. I guess they think I can," he agrees with her about handling the crazy.

"Sounds creepy," Alex replies wryly, taking in this tidbit of information and considering it thoughtfully while she watches the fight. "Do you get an actual van? That might be a step up from those gloves, even if it's not quite a robot," she points out, oddly optimistic about this. "And yeah. I guess we're all pretty messed up here," she adds with a shake of her head, as Jezebel's comment sinks in. "You're not gonna be bored at least."

And knock a bitch out Geoff does. Or close to it. Jez goes thud on the mat and lets out a groan, blinking yellow and black flecks out of her vision before she focuses again on the ceiling. "I'm done playing with you. You're too rough. I kind of like it. You're sassy the whole way around there." She just lays there for a moment, slowly rolling onto her stomach and pushing herself up on her palms when she's ready to stand. "Mickey, I don't think I'd be offering any girls candy…"

Geoff looks down coldly at Jezebel for a long moment before he blinks a few times: slow, cat-like blinks. Then he leans down to offer her a hand if she wants help up, some of the iciness melting from his expression. "Sorry, they never trained me to fight girls," he says. "Next time I'll wear heels; then you can outrun me." He then looks over at Mickey. "You say something about Crewe?" he asks. "You better watch out with that one. Take it from me, she's on the edge." Not that Geoff is exactly famous for having the greatest mental stability in the Division.

"It is a bit creepy, but someone has to do it," the tall youth replies and finishes his reps at some odd number that probably wasn't very round. Setting the weights down, Mickey takes a moment to stretch out his arms and thinks for a moment. "I was going to tell her that I lost my dog, but candy does sound rather tempting too," he shoots a reply towards Jezebel, after having watch her being flipped. Thinking about it, he finally leans forward to pick up the folder and read the contents again. He nods at Geoff and tells him, "I'll just make sure I stand close to her when I break any bad news to her." A glance then back towards Alex and he points out, "They'd make me return the van, the gloves I might be able to keep. I miss my gloves."

Alex winces slightly in sympathy as Jezebel is thrown to the mats, but she makes no comment. That is the nature of sparring, after all. "Yeah. Someone has to," she replies a bit glumly to Mickey, giving him a longer look and then smiling almost sadly. "I'm sure you'll do great. Just, you know, be careful. Seems like these things always turn out more complicated than they seem." She glances towards Jezebel and Geoff, deferring to those with far more field experience. "At least from what I've seen."

Jezebel takes the offered hand and uses it for leverage, smiling at Geoff as she stands. "Thanks. And don't sweat it. It just shows me that I do really need the practice. I guess I shouldn't be so arrogant to think that since most of my work is long range that I don't have to brush up." She stretches her arms over her head and twists for a moment, stretching before she glances between Mickey and Alex. "Things could go wrong in the blink of an eye. Always be prepared for something out of the norm to happen. But when it does go smoothly? It feels epic." Jezebel looks toward the door and points at it. "Well, I'm gonna go hit the showers. I'll see you guys later."

Geoff glances over at Mickey, lifting an eyebrow. Maybe he doesn't get the luring girls to a van joke. He nods vaguely at Jezebel, then looks at Alex and shrugs. "I gotta go," he says. "Rehearsal. See y'all." He lifts a hand in a lazy wave and heads for the elevator without even hitting the showers first.

Picking up his exercise ball, Mickey flicks it to the edge of the room and then picks up the ninety-pound dumbbells and carries those over as well. When he returns, he smiles towards Alex and nods, "It's for the good of the country, right?" and seems to believe that wholly. Folder back in hand, he bounces it off of the other and looks at the departing Jezebel, "Yeah, nice meeting you, see you around." A look then towards Alex and Geoff, in particular towards the latter, "Good way to turn her advantage into yours. Borderline textbook, you were a bit slow to go for it, and you're lucky she doesn't have a strong Jiu Jitsu backing or she could have broken that wrist, but it was an excellent Judo throw on your part," he remarks. He is positive, while trying to be instructional at the same time. He nods then at the note of departure, and turns his gaze towards his fellow recruit. "Want to go get a drink of water in the cafeteria? I hear they've got some great pre-war stuff from Naples."

"See you," Alex calls after Jezebel, and then nods to extend it towards Geoff as well, when he says he has to go. She moves smoothly back to her feet, absently dusting herself off after sitting on the mats. "Sure," she replies to Mickey then. "Though I should probably get changed before they bust me for not being in uniform or whatever," she replies wryly, rolling her eyes. "I'll meet you there in a few minutes?"

"I'll just walk with you and grab something that isn't all sweaty out of my room," Mickey replies and makes a gesture towards the doors and walks side by side with her towards the doors out of the training area. As they walk, he turns his head and looks at her outfit, "You know, that really is a flattering outfit, did they have you working at a night club?" he asks. His free hand, absent a pocket to slide into, sort of latches to his exercise pants across the back, rather than swinging beside her, possibly whisking her with a sweaty arm.

"Okay," Alex agrees with a grin, moving along with him to the door back to the dorms. As he comments on her outfit, she glances down and then shrugs. "No, just … getting to know someone," she replies, glancing over at him and then back straight ahead along the way. "But thanks. I can't really take credit. Amanda gives me the clothes — I just wear them," she tells him wryly, pausing once she reaches her dorm door. "So, I'll see you in a few?" She leans a shoulder against the door, her hand on the knob, but she doesn't open it just yet, waiting for him to confirm.

"Yep, in a few," Mickey confirms as expected and slips down the hallway, disappearing into his own identical room.

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