Kale Ivy Institute discussion

~RP

Sam tucked a few loose strands of hair into her messy ponytail as she ran on the treadmill. She'd started with a quick walk, moved into a jog, and by this time had built up to a steady run. This was only the beginning of her exercise routine. Sam inhaled and exhaled evenly, interrupting this cycle only to take a few sips of water. Why did people assume that just because she was classified as a hacker, she just sat around on her butt all day? Sure she was good with computers, but that was no reason to laze around collecting pounds. She had to keep up appearances. Besides, half of her skill depended on her looks. As far as she knew, there were no rules stating that you couldn't be attractive while you tapped people's phones and knocked down firewalls. And if there were: Samantha couldn't care less.

Feeling she wasn't quite pushing herself hard enough, Sam cranked up the speed a little. She skipped ahead a few songs on her iPod, looking for something more upbeat and energizing. She settled on The Black Keys and turned it upped enough to block out the rest of the world. Luckily, the lack of people in the exercise room made that pretty easy. She hated when people decided to "hang out" at the gym with friends. The only things they ever actually exercised were their mouths. Sam did every with a purpose, and that included working out. It was just as much as mental work out as it was a physical one. Not only did she like to challenge herself, coming here also gave her time to think.

It seemed inevitable that Beck would end up here sooner or later. Even with all the drugs and smoke encasing his insides sometimes the kid just had to move. With nothing good to do but wander this morning he actually decided here if all places. He wire a regular pair and sweats and a muscles shirt, looking less then thrilled with his decision at the moment. But deciding to shut his inner self up and cute his boredom the baddie spotted an empty bench press in which was just feet across the isle from the treadmills. Why the hell not? Beck walked with ease, hands stuck in his pockets. His movements weren't exactly graceful, in which he shoved anyone by the shoulder that got in his way, but didn't seem to notice himself anymore than he actually cared. As a baddie he had a reputation, yes, yes of course he did, but what people didn't understand about this rep was that when it came to using drugs and liking good - you had to have skill. Your hands always shook after to long without something and your muscles fell out sometimes.

Beck didn't want to try thinking about it though, it would make him grimace at the thought of simply being below average. Dwindling strength, nah-uh. No way. Wasn't happening. Dropping back and ducking under the bar in the process he cleared his throat irritably against the hard yet plush straight back of the horizontal press. Curling his fingers around the fourty-five pound bar, topped with extra pounds of course because someone hadn't put them away -- he probably wouldn't either if you were wondering -- and pushed it up and away from the holds on either side of him.

Sam watched in surprise as Beck walked into the exercise room. Coming here regularly meant that she had a general idea of who else spent some of their time in here, and Beck wasn't one of those people. She frowned as he went straight to the bench press. Sure, the guy was toned, but with all the drugs he did, it was shocking that he could lift something heavier than a bottle of vodka. Seeing him work out was like seeing a cat voluntarily jump into a pool of water. Sam was so busy watching him that she tripped on the treadmill and nearly fell off. Mentally shaking herself, she focused her mind on the task at hand. Whatever Beck did had nothing to do with her and wasn't worth dwelling on.

Sam finished up on the treadmill a few minutes later. She stepped off, drank some water, and did a few stretches before walking over to the hand weights. This was where she had to be careful. Sam wanted to have above average upper body strength, but without ending up looking like a female bodybuilder. She grabbed a couple of fifteen pound weights and was moving over to an empty space when one of the slipped out of her hand. It hit the ground with a dull thud. Unfortunately, it hit something else before the ground: Beck's foot. Sam's eyes widened as she watch the disaster unfold.

It was rather strange seeing as he didn't seem to be having much of a problem lifting the bar not even with the extra weights. Outwardly he was pretty easy on the appearance, meaning there was little to no reaction apart from furrowing eyebrows and tightening muscles, chest heaving upon pushing it back up and sucking in when it came back down. Inwardly he was killing himself. Honestly though you didn't get muscles without doing some sort of work out and running was not something he was up for. In fact his breath came up sort when he ran to long to fast. Point being inside he was breaking a bit, taking most of his energy to stop his hands from shaking at the weight put on him voluntarily. The guy wasn't one to back down from a challenge and most definitely wasn't going to let a few minutes of weight lifting get to him.

However considering all his concentration was put in focusing on not dropping the thing down onto his chest much less dropping it on his nice face. So when there was a abrupt pain shooting through his right foot he gave a yell and his arm tipped to one side. Not even he could pick that thing back up. The lock secured the other weights but he had to shove himself out from under it as it hit the ground so that if wouldn't come toppling over onto him. Automatically he pulled his foot up onto the bench and grabbed onto it with both hands - pressure pressure pressure. Eyes angrily shooting up to find Sam. "God dammit, what the fuck?!" he cursed loudly, uncaring of any wandering eyes or innocent ears around them. "Watch where you're going, torch!"

To say the least Beck was actually somewhat of a fan of the teams, it brought a challenge. Though he would honestly talked to anybody - but conflicted this one. He staggered to his feet, sucking in a sharp seething breath as his foot sort of felt like it had been crushed in by a freaking boulder. Lovely, there's goes his sexy swagger for the time being.

Sam bit her lip. "Sorry," she said, offering an apologetic smile. That looked like it hurt, but hey, at least it wasn't her foot. She waited for him to calm down a little, but it was clear that that wasn't going to happen any time in the near future. She tried to resist, but couldn't help rolling her eyes when he told her to watch where she was going. "Dropping the weight had nothing to do with watching where I was going. I knew exactly where I was going, the weight just slipped out of my fingers. The way you're acting, you'd think I'd hurled it at you on purpose. It was an accident and I apologized, so get over it," she said, bending down to pick up the weight.

In all honesty, San did feel bad for him, but a combination of her general dislike of him and his reaction just made the situation even more entertaining. She wondered what he'd do if she dropped the weight on his other foot. "You should probably ice that," she said, looking down at his foot. "Or go light up, that would probably dull the pain too," she muttered under her breath. "Oh, and I'd take off my shoe if I were you. You don't want it swelling up like a balloon and getting stuck in there." Sam didn't think the weight had caused any serious damage, though it would definitely hurt for a while. He'd get over it, eventually.

Beck seethed at her, his hands slipping into fists. He knew who Sam was but had never bothered to interact with her fully before, few words here and there, but they definitely weren't friends. And he didn't see it being a possibility in the future. With his foot throbbing he begrudgingly picked it up off the ground and ripped his shoe off, gritting his teeth and waging it in front of her face. "Well I wouldn't be having this problem if you knew how to hold a weight, now would I?" He asked in a dark and rhetorical manner. And what where the chances that this was an accident really, I mean she could've dropped it anywhere, but no - it was one his damned foot! Lets just say Beck had a short temper. That and he held a grudge for quite sometime.

He tried not to think to harshly about the comment on drugs. Piss off. Yes I use drugs, sue me. Beck thought in a tone that almost sounded like he was growling. Clenching his jaw he looked down at his foot, dropping back down onto the bench. The bar was still toppled over sideways, and a few people had turned their gaze in their direction, but most where gone now. Good. Nothing to see here. Obviously not in the best of moods - sort of grumbling at this point Beck tore off his sick to to look for any possible broken toes. "What're you still standing here for, huh?" He looked up accusingly at her. "Doubt you're feeling my pain, or that you're intent on helping, am I right?" Beck darkened his eyes and looked back down to his slightly swelling door. But morning looked broken.

Sam looked down at him, feeling her own temper rising. For such a tough looking guy, he sure was acting like a baby over this whole thing. Okay, it hurt, that's fine, but hadn't he yelled at her enough? It was her turn to get angry now. "Hey, in case you haven't noticed, I'm the one holding the weights. If you don't want to find one embedded in your face, I suggest you quit shouting at me," she said, glaring at him. "Take a picture, it lasts longer," she snapped at a girl staring at them a few feet away. The girl jumped and quickly turned away.

"And for your information, I'm not done working out. The whole world doesn't stop because you stubbed your toe, Beck," Sam told him. "And I can lift weights wherever I choose." Without moving an inch, she started doing curls, knowing that standing right in front of him would irritate him even further.

Beck scowled at her, mind wandering off of the pain by now mostly because he was a big boy and could take it without crying like a blubbering idiot. Pushing himself back up he jerked himself out of her way, going around to the other side of the press and grabbing up the bar, gripping it title as he heaved it back up into ace. Putting more weight on his left foot then that of his bare right - which was a slight purple already at the bend of his toes, he bent over and snatched up his shoes. He didn't intend for this encounter to be longer than it could be. With his nasty sense of pride and big mouth, add that to his short lived patience and you had outbursts like this.

"Who the fuck says I think I'm the center of the world, huh?" He spat, jerking his face forward slightly before straightening himself back again, stuffing his sock over his foot again despite any possible swelling and hooking his pointer and middle finger into his shoe and dangling it there on his hand. Damn he knew coming to the gym was a bad idea. Next time he was sweep the perimeter before coming in here, much less sitting anywhere close to this girl. She may just take it upon herself to drop another on him, this time on purpose. "Because it's not me."

Sam put her hands up in a show of innocence. "Woah, I never thought having a couple toes squished could make a person so aggressively angry. There are people out there with no arms and legs and you don't hear them complaining about it," she said haughtily. Now that it was clear he wasn't seriously injured, Sam intended to torment him as much as humanly possible. Nobody insulted her and got away with it. He wasn't the only one who had had his workout interrupted and if he hasn't made such a big deal about it, maybe she would have just apologized and left. Ultimately, he had brought this upon himself.

Sam hoped his toes would get better soon. Not for his sake, but for hers. Seeing him limping around school would just make her feel guilty. "What were you doing here anyway? I'm in here everyday and I almost never see you." Sam supposed if made sense. You couldn't stay that fit without working out. Maybe she'd just assumed steroids were just one more pill he popped. She knew thinking like that was rude and judgmental, but after some of the stuff she'd been through, she felt very strongly about drugs and alcohol and other harmful substances.

"I have arms, and I have legs, thank you very much. If you haven't noticed ties are sort if important to walking." he pointed out rather harshly. His mind mad driver red itself subconsciously off any throbbing pain implanted into his foot by now. Back kept his arms at his sides, refusing to appear anything but on guard. Hands in pockets meant lazy and nonchalant; not feeling it. Hands behind head meant for them to have a go. Arms crossed was preppy and frankly he wasn't into any of that at the moment. If anything he really wanted a smoke - god a cigar would be peachy right now. With this mind of his he hardly even realized there was a pain in his foot, only until he came back to his senses did it hit him again.

Gritting his teeth the classic bad-boy glared at her, mouth in a set and unmoving line. For now. "Am I not allowed to come to the gym? I guess I'm just assumed to be hanging out in an alley stoned off my ass, staggering my way around because I'm high and can't get back down fast enough ... All the time am I right?" It was the first thing he figured she was thinking with the accusations. Yeah he did a lot of that and year a lot of people knew, and a lot of people were judgmental bastards, but he did other stuff too. Example - he wasn't high now. Just frustrated and snappy. But even know his arms were shaking slightly, itching for drugs just at the mention of them. "You don't know me."

Sam stayed silent for a while, letting him get it all out. She figured just letting him blow off some steam was the best way to go at that moment. She had stayed pretty composed throughout this whole situation, but something in his last few words triggered something in her. "No, maybe I don't know you," she said, taking a step closer to him. "But I do know what addiction is and I do know what cravings look like," she snapped, looking pointedly at his slightly trembling arms. Sam couldn't understand why someone would do this to themselves. She knew that just quitting was close to impossible, but seeking help was an option. She didn't know him personally,but from what she saw, Beck didn't seem at all fazed by his lifestyle.

"You may think you're in control now, but everyone has a tipping point," Sam said quietly. She walked back over to put the weights back, not really feeling like working out anymore. She picked up her water bottle and took a few gulps before focusing her attention back on Beck. She had no desire at all to discuss this with him anymore, so she changed the subject. "You're okay, right? I'm not going to get a letter informing me that you're suing or anything?"

Beck's muscles seemed to tighten but he didn't dare shift backwards no matter how much his brain wanted to. He realized that in one arm his muscles had done more than just tighten, as if at the simple mention of addiction made them yearn. In a way it was true but his face remainder set, barley twitching a the pain soared through his left arm, slowly fading inch by inch before he could breath again. But hell drugs were magnificent. Drugs made you feel happy as nothing before, as nothing ever. Mostly it was the pain being numbed that was the best part. Loopy as someone could get it just felt like bliss not having to deal with things. However he cared little to nothing to be having this conversation with Sam and was more than elated - begrudgingly so - to find that the subject had been changed.

Eyeing the door in the corner of his eyes he shifted, tilting his head to the side and looking down at her with half slithered eyes. He was calm, as calm a he could be in the situation and after all the anger it was hard to let himself come back down; no pun or any other alternative play or words had been intended. "No I'm not going to sue you," he snapped, looking down at his foot even though the dock prevented any eyes seeing swelling that would go away if he just took it easy. Damn he didn't want to do that - remember the swagger? "That would make me a Momma's boy, and I'm not." He added darkly under his breath, shoulder jerking slightly but went mostly unnoticed by him. "Besides what would be my argument 'It hurt'. Yeah no." He said, inching away.

Sam folded her arms across her chest. "Well good. I wouldn't want to to be a Momma's boy and I wouldn't want my mom asking me why there's a court summons in the mail," she said. "Besides, what's that old phrase that guys are ways throwing around to try and sound tough? Oh yeah, no pain, no gain. Just think, the weight landing on your foot may have been painful, but all of the swelling will make it look like you gained an extra toe," she said brightly. "You can show it off to all your friends. Just tell them you were saving a child from getting hit by a car and the tire rolled over your foot. That's much more macho."

Sam's smile faded and her expression turned serious. "It may hurt now, but you'll thank me for this one day. Me dropping that weight on your foot is going to be the highlight of your week, I assure you," she said, patting him firmly on the shoulder. Incidentally, it was the same shoulder that he was having a hard time keeping still. Sam was actually a lot more observant than people gave her credit for.

Beck's eyes automatically shot in her direction again as they had been wandering as she gabbed on. It was beginning to piss him off more than anything thank you very much. But that was icing on top of the cake. He ripped his shoulder away from her hand, feeling her fingers run off the fabric in the midst of doing so. "You don't touch me." he said with a tone that could be counted as a death threat. He was not in the mood to be talking about this shit with her of all people. This girl was stubborn, un forfitting, and simply annoying to no end. He liked a challenge sure but not when they were going around bad mouthing him, and most definitely when there was no interest in looks. Perhaps she would’ve appealed before being the cause of his black and blue foot. But now she was as unappealing as a hundred pound weight. Shaking his head he scooted away towards the door, his shoulders locking themselves into place stubbornly. “Y’know I think I will go light one.” He said in retaliation to her earlier comment. He didn’t much care if people heard him, it’s not like his drug addiction was much of a secret. As one last goodbye he turned on his heels to look back at her and gave a smile, flipping the finger and then turning back around. “Have a nice life, bitch.” he called in a sickly nice tone of voice. A sarcasm so deep it felt like poison even over his tongue.

((Beck is like the epitome of the guy that your parents would hate for you to bring home. But I love him anyway :D ))

((Why thank you :D
That's what I was going for, lol))