Philip & Nathan - Thursday Afternoon
Apr. 25th, 2013 02:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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om_mainNathan isn't doing well in PE, and Judd's had enough of him. Enter Philip, who's been asked to give Nathan a little one-on-one time to set Nathan up with a fitness routine. They're clearly two different animals, but they manage to get through the session without killing one another - or discussing their powers.
Philip really should have expected this would happen after he'd volunteered to help Simon. He'd been discrete about his capabilities, but Mr. Judd knew about the extra training he'd been doing. Philip hadn't been precisely happy about having to give the details, but it was either that or have Mr. Judd curtail them. At least owning up to it had convinced the man that Philip knew what he was doing.
So, that led him here, to waiting in the gym for 'Nathan', to try and give him a bit of assistance. Apparently he was horrendous at all things physical and the thought was to try student tutoring (as very little else had worked). So Philip waited, in his 'public' gym clothes, track pants and a long-sleeved shirt, for a kid that he only knew through the online journals.
If nothing else, he thought to himself, it would be good training for dealing with the really difficult people he'd have to work with, maybe handle eventually...
"Physical Education" was a stupid course, and that was the end of it for Nathan. He was an elegantly tall, Bruce-Lee quality wiry beanpole, hardly an ounce of fat on him, and while he hadn't much muscle to speak of, what he did have was trim and lean. So what if his fitness scores were crap, and so what if he was a bit of a clumsy, uncoordinated one? It wasn't like he needed more exercise, so it wasn't something he cared about. 'Ol Judders had got him to participate in the class with the bear minimum of effort and a few antics, but the instructor was well frustrated with his attitude, and Nathan was half the same back at him.
Nathan was tempted not to show at this little out-of-class meet set for him and one of the apple-polishing overachievers. He was a bit curious, though, what they might say. And apparently the boy Judd had assigned him had been helpful with Barry, so... Nathan could always walk out on him later.
Coming in a few minutes late in loose drawstring sweats and tank top, Nathan slurped from his can of Coke as he loped his way over to the clean-cut one. "Well, here we are," he said by way of greeting. "You know, we could rather you report back to Stumpy that I was a good lad and ran a few laps, and go our separate ways to spend the afternoon doing anything else instead."
"And when you don't improve, it'll be on me," Philip said evenly. He ignored the pejorative for the moment, Mr. Judd was more than capable of taking care of that sort of thing himself. "Well," he amended as his gaze flicked here and there on the other guy, narrow shoulders, narrow chested, he might be good in a scramble out of somewhere but stamina, no, not so much. "What would be on me is that I'm a poor instructor and I'd rather not have that. I'm Philip, by the way, and I'm sure we can come up with something for you."
He flicked another look down at the Coke can and shook his head. "You probably want to trade that out for water. That kind of sugar's not a good idea when you're working hard."
"Exactly why I try and avoid this sort of thing," Nathan said as to the last. He lifted his brows at Philip along with the can of Coke in a kind of cheers, tipping his head back and draining the fizz. He couldn't quite swallow all of it at once - he'd only just opened it - so his cheeks were still bulging with cola as he brought his chin back down to look back at the other boy, chugging it down along his throat in a few more gulps. He exhaled loudly when he'd finished, shaking out his head with a whip-bounce of dark curls. "That's refreshment," he punctuated with a belch, walking away to the water fountain with his empty can to fill it back up with water.
Honestly, if he thought that would get a rise out of Philip, this wouldn't be as bad as he thought. "We'll start off slow," he said once Nathan was back. "Unless you want to make yourself sick from the rollercoaster blood sugar, thought I wouldn't recommend it. Plus it's not going to do us any good if you can't move in the morning. Do you have any exercise that you don't completely hate? Or anything you've wanted to try?"
Nathan shrugged as he wandered back, clearing his mouth with a sip of his water. "Swimming's all right." Not that they were anywhere near the pool. "I'm not exactly built like a bodybuilder or a sports star, in case you've not noticed."
"You don't have to be," Philip said with a shrug. "Endurance is more important, in my opinion, and you can do a fair bit of that training in the pool. But the stronger you get yourself, the better that will work." He eyed Nathan up and down again. "I wouldn't try to make you a bodybuilder, that'd just make you miserable. I don't look like one myself, right?"
"...Seriously, man? Don't ask me what it is you look like unless you want a smart-mouth answer," Nathan warned. "What is it you expect me to do, then?"
"I meant relatively speaking, but you don't have to answer that." Philip said and he finally rolled his eyes at that one. "For starters, warm up. Ten minutes on the treadmill."
Nathan was still standing there, looking at him expectantly. "And what're you going to be doing meanwhile?"
"Watching you?" Philip said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Making sure the equipment's adjusted, that sort of thing."
"You couldn't do that from the next treadmill over?" Nathan lifted his eyebrows at Philip.
As a matter of fact, he could and perfectly well. That didn't even really rate on the scale of distractions. But to let him know that... "Sure," Philip said after a moment. "But don't pace me, you need to pick something you're comfortable with. About brisk jog, no incline," he said as he stepped up to the closest one.
He gave the treadmill beside it a lairy look, but Nathan got up onto it with another swallow of water, and put the can into the cupholder thing. He jammed at a couple of the setting buttons, stumbling the first step as it started into motion and grabbing at the handholds, but caught up with the treadmill soon enough. "D'you really get off on all this fitness shit, then?"
"I like being in shape, I also like not getting my ass handed to me any more than necessary " Philip said bluntly. "But it was just one of those things, my parents were big into it and being outrun by my grandmother is just embarrassing."
Nathan grunted a sound of acknowledgment, getting around to finding his stride, if reluctantly. "It's a lot of work for no good reason, if you ask me."
"Being able to run fast enough isn't a good reason?" Philip said as he gave Nathan a sideways glance.
"I don't think I need special training to run like a bitch," Nathan huffed from his jog. "...Whoa, that's deja vu there."
Philip just gave him a pointed look. "That's about ten minutes. Who's the one breathing hard right now? I'm not saying this to be a jerk, because I have no problem with the idea of running. But like you are now? I could catch you in less than five minutes."
"Is that so," Nathan grumbled between breaths. He met his trainer's look with one of his own. "How many would it take your grandmother?"
"Oh, she wouldn't bother. She doesn't do object lessons when you're not related," Philip said blandly. "If you're interested, I can mix things up by adding in a few ways to get away from people."
Nathan looked away from him, back at the wall ahead. "And who's coming after me?"
Philip just quirked an eyebrow at him as the treadmill slowed down. "So I'm thinking all over strength training," he said as it came to a halt. "Mix that in with the swimming and you'll be in pretty good shape in no time. Depending on what you eat, of course. That'll have an effect."
Glad for the cue, Nathan slapped the controls off, indulging in some full, deep breaths - and promptly hacked up half a lung. "Cardio is cruel and unusual punishment for a smoker," he coughed. "I've got my food groups covered, though. I get plenty of both individually-wrapped and frozen."
The brief muttered phrase was almost inaudible and decidedly not english as Philip took back at least a few things he'd thought about his parents and their stickler-ness on his training. "You might want to cut back on that some," Philip said lightly, not scolding or giving it too much weight, just a PSA. "And you know, they do make real food here. Edible for cafeterias, no less."
"American cuisine all looks weird, smells weird - tastes weird," Nathan suggested childishly, as his breathing smoothed out again and he recollected his water for a swallow. So did the cigarettes, for that matter, different from his usual brand, but it'd be ludicrously expensive to import what he was more used to smoking. "And I promise you, whatever they're calling 'curry' in the canteen is not curry."
"Be adventurous," Philip deadpanned. "Though if you're really desperate, there's a few groceries around that have imported food and at least English is less impossible than some."
"So I'm supposed to do more of what I don't like, less of what I do like. ...And you wonder why I'm not so much a fan."
"Actually, I was offering a way to have you have some of both, learn to deal with things here, have a source for what you're more familiar with," Philip said as he waved Nathan over to one of the machines. "Take a seat, I want to see how it needs adjusting. And there are worse places to be than here."
Nathan sat on the seat of the - well, it could be a pasta making press for all he knew, and watched to see what the other boy fiddled with. "Are you sure you're American? You're almost painfully even-tempered." Maybe it was a backwards kind of compliment, but Nathan made it sound like a rather bland, unpleasant condition to be stuck with. Judd being the clear authority figure in their sport classes made it much easier to pick an argument there. ...Crafty old bastard. "No wonder you're teacher's pet. And not to say I don't have an imagination, but what worse places d'you imagine we'd be?"
"Yes, I'm American, but I've got plenty of outside influence. My mom's parents are from overseas, my grandmother's English, that's how I know about the food," Philip said as he nudged at a couple things. "Chest presses, try a couple out to check the weight. "And I'm hardly a teacher's pet, I just don't mind sharing what I know."
He paused then, a little surprised at the last question. "Well," he said, "That place that had you, for one."
"Does everyone have to know about all that?" Nathan directed his frown at the machine, grabbing the handholds at the end of either arm and wiggling them about for a moment until he discovered they pushed out ahead of him - if he pushed hard enough with his long, twiggy arms.
"Not everyone does, at least not more than the 'there are bad guys out there, don't get in the van'," Philip said as he watched Nathan. "You have to admit, it's a pretty serious thing to watch out for. But no, I have an arrangement with Tessa, she dips into a lot of information. Start with ten. We're going for endurance, not to make you look like a balloon."
Which really, was entirely the truth. No one at the school would be surprised by Tessa knowing things.
"Not the sort of arrangement I'd like to be having with her," Nathan grunted, strain showing through the screw-up of his face and the flare of his nostrils where he pushed for another. And then something else occurred to him, and he dropped the arms with a clang. "...Wait, the two've you are, what, going through our records?!"
"She'd eat you alive," Philip said mildly. "And no, of course I'm not. I doubt she's looking into anything specific on the two of you either. Tessa's just from a rough background herself, she takes keeping people here safe very seriously. She took what we were told and went hunting for more information herself. They're a larger issue than you and Simon," he said with a shrug,
"You think she would? On the first date?" Nathan brightened hopefully, certainly taking a different meaning to being 'eaten alive' as he strained to push through another press. "Well, once she gets a load of this hot new body, couldn't say as I'd blame her, hnnnnngh..."
"I was thinking more in terms of a black widow," Philip said. "But if you'd like to give it a try, by all means. It would be interesting to watch."
"Exactly, giving my 'head' a little love nibble, what'd you think I meant? But you're not invited along for watching, yeh sicko," Nathan shook a little as he brought the equipment back and out again. The sooner he got through them, the sooner he was done... "You got a girl picked out yet? ...Or boy, or leather armchair, or whatever it is you fancy?"
"I meant the fallout, trust me, I'm no voyeur. Stop for a minute and rest," Philip said. It was odd, how he could hop from topic to topic without batting an eye. "And no, it hadn't crossed my mind really." It was half truth and half curiosity at what that'd provoke.
"Your priorities are all screwed, man," Nathan heaved a sigh, letting his arms dangle over the grips loosely as he slumped back into the seat to stew in his juices a moment. "You'll have a pretty girl do your espionage shite for you, and not even try for a peek up her skirt? You've got to live a little. Ones like you are practically born old."
"I don't actually have a problem with that," Philip said evenly. "It's also occasionally useful to think with the head on top of my shoulders. Besides, any unauthorized peeking, besides being rude, is asking for retaliation." And it went without saying, he thought at least, that Tessa was one of the few at the school he was actually careful with.
"Whoa now, creeper! Did I say 'unauthorized'? I didn't say that, not explicitly. I knew you were a weirdo," Nathan rattled off easily.
"Sorry, I assumed 'peek up her skirt' meant something more illicit. Try five more, that was enough of a rest," Philip said.
"Slavedriver," Nathan groaned, but he got back into place and pushed off again. "So how often am I expected to kill myself like this before I'm the next action hero?"
"We'll start with twice a week," Philip said as he watched Nathan's form. "Probably no more than three with all the other work we do around here. It's no good if you hurt yourself. I would strongly recommend trying to eat better though, that'll make a difference."
"That many a week?" Nathan gave up halfway through a press without completing, as non-violent protest. "No wonder you've got no time for the worthwhile bits! You're too exhausted to be of use to anybody, after all that!"
"It's not for hours and you'll have a lot more energy, you know," Philip said.
"I always thought that 'more energy' line was a bald lie you fitness freaks made up to convert others," Nathan admitted, grudgingly doing another press. "Like how parents pretend that vegetables taste good in front of their kids. Mmmm, let's have more boiled cabbage, Reginald, which doesn't taste at all of used wetnap!"
"Hardly. It wouldn't do a lot of good if it was a lie, would it? Besides, it's not like I'm asking you to sign up for my schedule," Philip said, and just the tiniest hint of a smirk peeked out, just a crinkle at the corner of his mouth. "I wouldn't inflict that on most people here, it might kill you."
"I'm trying to avoid making a habit out of dying too often, as a matter of fact," Nathan quipped back, twiggy arms quivering a bit with the exertion. If the sarcasm happened to have some truth in it, who was Philip to know? ...Then again, Old Man Phil here did seem to know a few things more than he let on. "You are counting these, aren't you? I'm not hearing any counting."
"I'm perfectly capable of multitasking and as a matter of fact, yes I am. Did you lose count?" Philip asked easily. "If you need some memory exercises, I can help with those too." That last was given entirely seriously, still in that ever so glad to assist tone of voice.
"Why would I need them? I remember everything! Everything worth knowing," Nathan suggested, getting a last, twitchy, fighting struggle of a press through with a dramatic exclamation of a groan before releasing and dropping back in his seat again. "Just wanted to be sure you'd agree I was done," he gasped a little. This sucked, and a big, fat hairy one, too.
"It'll get easier with time, but your form was terrible on the last few, we should probably back the weight off a little next time. Catch your breath and we move on," Philip said. He wasn't paying the slightest attention to the histrionics in the surface, but it still went in the, how do I get him better motivated file.
"My form is tall, graceful, trim and magnificent, like the classiest fucking giraffe on the Savannah," Nathan declared between breaths, looking at Philip as if he felt a bit sick. "It's what you're doing to it that's terrible! Are you trying to tell me we're not even done yet?"
"Your form," Philip said bluntly, "Is going to give you screaming muscle pain if you keep going like that. And no. Did you think one exercise was going to do it?" He eyed Nathan then and got this... Look. (It might, perhaps, be the precursor to the one that would send recruits running many years down the line.) "Why don't you pick. We'll do the weight circuit today or start with cardio. Either or."
"And the treadmill," Nathan reminded in his defence, as Philip started giving him some hard, calculatory Staring. No one would find you in a million years, and I've got my body-handling gloves in the boot of the car, it rather implied to Nathan. "Which I nearly lost a lung on," he muttered more quietly. "Fine, make me lift some heavy things, because this is going so well already. But I'm going to say some strong words to Moira about you if you break me on our first date!"
"Trust me, I have no intention of breaking you." He could, of course, but that was entirely counterproductive. "The most you'll need from Doctor MacTaggart is some ibuprofen. And you'll even get a day off tomorrow. I appreciate your cooperation."
"So that we're clear, I'm doing this so the wee little man can't fail me," Nathan rather suggested from his slump on the equipment. "Not for some overachiever fitness freak." Who was obviously enjoying watching him squirm.
"Whatever makes you sleep at night," Philip said blandly. "Come on, enough rest. The machines are waiting." He was more a fan of free weights as a rule, truth be told, but there was a part of him that was really convinced that Nathan would hurt himself with them.
Philip really should have expected this would happen after he'd volunteered to help Simon. He'd been discrete about his capabilities, but Mr. Judd knew about the extra training he'd been doing. Philip hadn't been precisely happy about having to give the details, but it was either that or have Mr. Judd curtail them. At least owning up to it had convinced the man that Philip knew what he was doing.
So, that led him here, to waiting in the gym for 'Nathan', to try and give him a bit of assistance. Apparently he was horrendous at all things physical and the thought was to try student tutoring (as very little else had worked). So Philip waited, in his 'public' gym clothes, track pants and a long-sleeved shirt, for a kid that he only knew through the online journals.
If nothing else, he thought to himself, it would be good training for dealing with the really difficult people he'd have to work with, maybe handle eventually...
"Physical Education" was a stupid course, and that was the end of it for Nathan. He was an elegantly tall, Bruce-Lee quality wiry beanpole, hardly an ounce of fat on him, and while he hadn't much muscle to speak of, what he did have was trim and lean. So what if his fitness scores were crap, and so what if he was a bit of a clumsy, uncoordinated one? It wasn't like he needed more exercise, so it wasn't something he cared about. 'Ol Judders had got him to participate in the class with the bear minimum of effort and a few antics, but the instructor was well frustrated with his attitude, and Nathan was half the same back at him.
Nathan was tempted not to show at this little out-of-class meet set for him and one of the apple-polishing overachievers. He was a bit curious, though, what they might say. And apparently the boy Judd had assigned him had been helpful with Barry, so... Nathan could always walk out on him later.
Coming in a few minutes late in loose drawstring sweats and tank top, Nathan slurped from his can of Coke as he loped his way over to the clean-cut one. "Well, here we are," he said by way of greeting. "You know, we could rather you report back to Stumpy that I was a good lad and ran a few laps, and go our separate ways to spend the afternoon doing anything else instead."
"And when you don't improve, it'll be on me," Philip said evenly. He ignored the pejorative for the moment, Mr. Judd was more than capable of taking care of that sort of thing himself. "Well," he amended as his gaze flicked here and there on the other guy, narrow shoulders, narrow chested, he might be good in a scramble out of somewhere but stamina, no, not so much. "What would be on me is that I'm a poor instructor and I'd rather not have that. I'm Philip, by the way, and I'm sure we can come up with something for you."
He flicked another look down at the Coke can and shook his head. "You probably want to trade that out for water. That kind of sugar's not a good idea when you're working hard."
"Exactly why I try and avoid this sort of thing," Nathan said as to the last. He lifted his brows at Philip along with the can of Coke in a kind of cheers, tipping his head back and draining the fizz. He couldn't quite swallow all of it at once - he'd only just opened it - so his cheeks were still bulging with cola as he brought his chin back down to look back at the other boy, chugging it down along his throat in a few more gulps. He exhaled loudly when he'd finished, shaking out his head with a whip-bounce of dark curls. "That's refreshment," he punctuated with a belch, walking away to the water fountain with his empty can to fill it back up with water.
Honestly, if he thought that would get a rise out of Philip, this wouldn't be as bad as he thought. "We'll start off slow," he said once Nathan was back. "Unless you want to make yourself sick from the rollercoaster blood sugar, thought I wouldn't recommend it. Plus it's not going to do us any good if you can't move in the morning. Do you have any exercise that you don't completely hate? Or anything you've wanted to try?"
Nathan shrugged as he wandered back, clearing his mouth with a sip of his water. "Swimming's all right." Not that they were anywhere near the pool. "I'm not exactly built like a bodybuilder or a sports star, in case you've not noticed."
"You don't have to be," Philip said with a shrug. "Endurance is more important, in my opinion, and you can do a fair bit of that training in the pool. But the stronger you get yourself, the better that will work." He eyed Nathan up and down again. "I wouldn't try to make you a bodybuilder, that'd just make you miserable. I don't look like one myself, right?"
"...Seriously, man? Don't ask me what it is you look like unless you want a smart-mouth answer," Nathan warned. "What is it you expect me to do, then?"
"I meant relatively speaking, but you don't have to answer that." Philip said and he finally rolled his eyes at that one. "For starters, warm up. Ten minutes on the treadmill."
Nathan was still standing there, looking at him expectantly. "And what're you going to be doing meanwhile?"
"Watching you?" Philip said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Making sure the equipment's adjusted, that sort of thing."
"You couldn't do that from the next treadmill over?" Nathan lifted his eyebrows at Philip.
As a matter of fact, he could and perfectly well. That didn't even really rate on the scale of distractions. But to let him know that... "Sure," Philip said after a moment. "But don't pace me, you need to pick something you're comfortable with. About brisk jog, no incline," he said as he stepped up to the closest one.
He gave the treadmill beside it a lairy look, but Nathan got up onto it with another swallow of water, and put the can into the cupholder thing. He jammed at a couple of the setting buttons, stumbling the first step as it started into motion and grabbing at the handholds, but caught up with the treadmill soon enough. "D'you really get off on all this fitness shit, then?"
"I like being in shape, I also like not getting my ass handed to me any more than necessary " Philip said bluntly. "But it was just one of those things, my parents were big into it and being outrun by my grandmother is just embarrassing."
Nathan grunted a sound of acknowledgment, getting around to finding his stride, if reluctantly. "It's a lot of work for no good reason, if you ask me."
"Being able to run fast enough isn't a good reason?" Philip said as he gave Nathan a sideways glance.
"I don't think I need special training to run like a bitch," Nathan huffed from his jog. "...Whoa, that's deja vu there."
Philip just gave him a pointed look. "That's about ten minutes. Who's the one breathing hard right now? I'm not saying this to be a jerk, because I have no problem with the idea of running. But like you are now? I could catch you in less than five minutes."
"Is that so," Nathan grumbled between breaths. He met his trainer's look with one of his own. "How many would it take your grandmother?"
"Oh, she wouldn't bother. She doesn't do object lessons when you're not related," Philip said blandly. "If you're interested, I can mix things up by adding in a few ways to get away from people."
Nathan looked away from him, back at the wall ahead. "And who's coming after me?"
Philip just quirked an eyebrow at him as the treadmill slowed down. "So I'm thinking all over strength training," he said as it came to a halt. "Mix that in with the swimming and you'll be in pretty good shape in no time. Depending on what you eat, of course. That'll have an effect."
Glad for the cue, Nathan slapped the controls off, indulging in some full, deep breaths - and promptly hacked up half a lung. "Cardio is cruel and unusual punishment for a smoker," he coughed. "I've got my food groups covered, though. I get plenty of both individually-wrapped and frozen."
The brief muttered phrase was almost inaudible and decidedly not english as Philip took back at least a few things he'd thought about his parents and their stickler-ness on his training. "You might want to cut back on that some," Philip said lightly, not scolding or giving it too much weight, just a PSA. "And you know, they do make real food here. Edible for cafeterias, no less."
"American cuisine all looks weird, smells weird - tastes weird," Nathan suggested childishly, as his breathing smoothed out again and he recollected his water for a swallow. So did the cigarettes, for that matter, different from his usual brand, but it'd be ludicrously expensive to import what he was more used to smoking. "And I promise you, whatever they're calling 'curry' in the canteen is not curry."
"Be adventurous," Philip deadpanned. "Though if you're really desperate, there's a few groceries around that have imported food and at least English is less impossible than some."
"So I'm supposed to do more of what I don't like, less of what I do like. ...And you wonder why I'm not so much a fan."
"Actually, I was offering a way to have you have some of both, learn to deal with things here, have a source for what you're more familiar with," Philip said as he waved Nathan over to one of the machines. "Take a seat, I want to see how it needs adjusting. And there are worse places to be than here."
Nathan sat on the seat of the - well, it could be a pasta making press for all he knew, and watched to see what the other boy fiddled with. "Are you sure you're American? You're almost painfully even-tempered." Maybe it was a backwards kind of compliment, but Nathan made it sound like a rather bland, unpleasant condition to be stuck with. Judd being the clear authority figure in their sport classes made it much easier to pick an argument there. ...Crafty old bastard. "No wonder you're teacher's pet. And not to say I don't have an imagination, but what worse places d'you imagine we'd be?"
"Yes, I'm American, but I've got plenty of outside influence. My mom's parents are from overseas, my grandmother's English, that's how I know about the food," Philip said as he nudged at a couple things. "Chest presses, try a couple out to check the weight. "And I'm hardly a teacher's pet, I just don't mind sharing what I know."
He paused then, a little surprised at the last question. "Well," he said, "That place that had you, for one."
"Does everyone have to know about all that?" Nathan directed his frown at the machine, grabbing the handholds at the end of either arm and wiggling them about for a moment until he discovered they pushed out ahead of him - if he pushed hard enough with his long, twiggy arms.
"Not everyone does, at least not more than the 'there are bad guys out there, don't get in the van'," Philip said as he watched Nathan. "You have to admit, it's a pretty serious thing to watch out for. But no, I have an arrangement with Tessa, she dips into a lot of information. Start with ten. We're going for endurance, not to make you look like a balloon."
Which really, was entirely the truth. No one at the school would be surprised by Tessa knowing things.
"Not the sort of arrangement I'd like to be having with her," Nathan grunted, strain showing through the screw-up of his face and the flare of his nostrils where he pushed for another. And then something else occurred to him, and he dropped the arms with a clang. "...Wait, the two've you are, what, going through our records?!"
"She'd eat you alive," Philip said mildly. "And no, of course I'm not. I doubt she's looking into anything specific on the two of you either. Tessa's just from a rough background herself, she takes keeping people here safe very seriously. She took what we were told and went hunting for more information herself. They're a larger issue than you and Simon," he said with a shrug,
"You think she would? On the first date?" Nathan brightened hopefully, certainly taking a different meaning to being 'eaten alive' as he strained to push through another press. "Well, once she gets a load of this hot new body, couldn't say as I'd blame her, hnnnnngh..."
"I was thinking more in terms of a black widow," Philip said. "But if you'd like to give it a try, by all means. It would be interesting to watch."
"Exactly, giving my 'head' a little love nibble, what'd you think I meant? But you're not invited along for watching, yeh sicko," Nathan shook a little as he brought the equipment back and out again. The sooner he got through them, the sooner he was done... "You got a girl picked out yet? ...Or boy, or leather armchair, or whatever it is you fancy?"
"I meant the fallout, trust me, I'm no voyeur. Stop for a minute and rest," Philip said. It was odd, how he could hop from topic to topic without batting an eye. "And no, it hadn't crossed my mind really." It was half truth and half curiosity at what that'd provoke.
"Your priorities are all screwed, man," Nathan heaved a sigh, letting his arms dangle over the grips loosely as he slumped back into the seat to stew in his juices a moment. "You'll have a pretty girl do your espionage shite for you, and not even try for a peek up her skirt? You've got to live a little. Ones like you are practically born old."
"I don't actually have a problem with that," Philip said evenly. "It's also occasionally useful to think with the head on top of my shoulders. Besides, any unauthorized peeking, besides being rude, is asking for retaliation." And it went without saying, he thought at least, that Tessa was one of the few at the school he was actually careful with.
"Whoa now, creeper! Did I say 'unauthorized'? I didn't say that, not explicitly. I knew you were a weirdo," Nathan rattled off easily.
"Sorry, I assumed 'peek up her skirt' meant something more illicit. Try five more, that was enough of a rest," Philip said.
"Slavedriver," Nathan groaned, but he got back into place and pushed off again. "So how often am I expected to kill myself like this before I'm the next action hero?"
"We'll start with twice a week," Philip said as he watched Nathan's form. "Probably no more than three with all the other work we do around here. It's no good if you hurt yourself. I would strongly recommend trying to eat better though, that'll make a difference."
"That many a week?" Nathan gave up halfway through a press without completing, as non-violent protest. "No wonder you've got no time for the worthwhile bits! You're too exhausted to be of use to anybody, after all that!"
"It's not for hours and you'll have a lot more energy, you know," Philip said.
"I always thought that 'more energy' line was a bald lie you fitness freaks made up to convert others," Nathan admitted, grudgingly doing another press. "Like how parents pretend that vegetables taste good in front of their kids. Mmmm, let's have more boiled cabbage, Reginald, which doesn't taste at all of used wetnap!"
"Hardly. It wouldn't do a lot of good if it was a lie, would it? Besides, it's not like I'm asking you to sign up for my schedule," Philip said, and just the tiniest hint of a smirk peeked out, just a crinkle at the corner of his mouth. "I wouldn't inflict that on most people here, it might kill you."
"I'm trying to avoid making a habit out of dying too often, as a matter of fact," Nathan quipped back, twiggy arms quivering a bit with the exertion. If the sarcasm happened to have some truth in it, who was Philip to know? ...Then again, Old Man Phil here did seem to know a few things more than he let on. "You are counting these, aren't you? I'm not hearing any counting."
"I'm perfectly capable of multitasking and as a matter of fact, yes I am. Did you lose count?" Philip asked easily. "If you need some memory exercises, I can help with those too." That last was given entirely seriously, still in that ever so glad to assist tone of voice.
"Why would I need them? I remember everything! Everything worth knowing," Nathan suggested, getting a last, twitchy, fighting struggle of a press through with a dramatic exclamation of a groan before releasing and dropping back in his seat again. "Just wanted to be sure you'd agree I was done," he gasped a little. This sucked, and a big, fat hairy one, too.
"It'll get easier with time, but your form was terrible on the last few, we should probably back the weight off a little next time. Catch your breath and we move on," Philip said. He wasn't paying the slightest attention to the histrionics in the surface, but it still went in the, how do I get him better motivated file.
"My form is tall, graceful, trim and magnificent, like the classiest fucking giraffe on the Savannah," Nathan declared between breaths, looking at Philip as if he felt a bit sick. "It's what you're doing to it that's terrible! Are you trying to tell me we're not even done yet?"
"Your form," Philip said bluntly, "Is going to give you screaming muscle pain if you keep going like that. And no. Did you think one exercise was going to do it?" He eyed Nathan then and got this... Look. (It might, perhaps, be the precursor to the one that would send recruits running many years down the line.) "Why don't you pick. We'll do the weight circuit today or start with cardio. Either or."
"And the treadmill," Nathan reminded in his defence, as Philip started giving him some hard, calculatory Staring. No one would find you in a million years, and I've got my body-handling gloves in the boot of the car, it rather implied to Nathan. "Which I nearly lost a lung on," he muttered more quietly. "Fine, make me lift some heavy things, because this is going so well already. But I'm going to say some strong words to Moira about you if you break me on our first date!"
"Trust me, I have no intention of breaking you." He could, of course, but that was entirely counterproductive. "The most you'll need from Doctor MacTaggart is some ibuprofen. And you'll even get a day off tomorrow. I appreciate your cooperation."
"So that we're clear, I'm doing this so the wee little man can't fail me," Nathan rather suggested from his slump on the equipment. "Not for some overachiever fitness freak." Who was obviously enjoying watching him squirm.
"Whatever makes you sleep at night," Philip said blandly. "Come on, enough rest. The machines are waiting." He was more a fan of free weights as a rule, truth be told, but there was a part of him that was really convinced that Nathan would hurt himself with them.
