1996-01-08: Captain Ameripants

Participants:

Jethro_icon.gif Siobhan_icon.gif Jake_icon.gif

Scene Title Captain Ameripants
Synopsis Sio and Jethro meet for their daily PT. They end up with an unexpected guest. Chaos - albeit controlled chaos - ensues.
Location Hogwarts: Room of Requirement
Date January 08, 1996
Watch For Things unspoken, Sio's obliviousness, references to chicken
Logger I am the Bad Wolf

It's a cold day, and Jethro is wise enough not to be out in the cold. In his time in the castle, he's found this room — whether by listening to scuttlebutt or by asking outright, no one is sure. The auror has found a patch of floor and is beginning his gentle stretches, eyes focused on the door, waiting for something — or more accurately, someone.

Siobhan is late. It's not an uncommon occurance for her lately, but with school's resume life has been on the verge of hectic. Dashing up the stairs two at a time, she crests the last landing and groans. The door is already there, which means she'll be in for it, but it can't be helped. Steeling that touch of very Gryffindor courage, she pushes the grand door open just wide enough to slip through. Once it snaps shut behind her, she's shedding layers - coat, outer robe, jumper, belt, boots. "I know I'm late, but before you turn into a bear on me, I had to give detention. A few Lions had forgotten over their holiday that I may be young, but I'm not stupid." When down to long black lounge pants and a rather obnoxiously bright lime camisole, she pads across and folds herself to sit just across from him. "And it makes me out to be the worst kind of teacher, too. I mean, who gives detention the first week of class?" Starting the stretches for her legs, she sweeps her hair up into a very messy bun and then bends to start her warm-up in earnest. "How were your holidays?"

For a moment, Jethro's only answer is a grunt, then he shrugs. "I have." Well, technically, he's not a 'teacher', not in the strictest sense of the word, but you'd better bet your ass he penalized recruits in the first week. "Knock 'em on their ass early, and then see how everything else goes." He falls silent again except for the occasional grunt as he continues to stretch. "You waitin' for an engraved invitation?" He snorts, then watches as she begins the warm-ups. "Holidays were fine. Went home, spent some time with the team." He shrugs again. "Duck drank too much, told a couple ribald stories, and the rest of us ignored him." He gives her a quicksilver grin. "SOP."

The grin that stretches Siobhan's lips is utterly wicked. "If I didn't know any better, Jet, I'd say you had a fetish for landing people on their arses." Nevertheless, she continues with her stretches - the movements are now familiar enough to lend her a strange type of fluid grace in doing them. "I'm jealous. Between Russia, Scotland, China and Manchester, I feel like I need a holiday from the holidays." Despite her words, however, she seems energetic and genuinely content - like someone cast a spell to let her inner sun shine out of her eyes and skin and smile. "When are you going to bring them out for a visit, hmm? Minnie would enjoy tea with Ducky, I'm sure." Siobhan, matchmaking? Never.

The nickname she bestows on him gets a raised eyebrow and narrowed eyes. Jethro considers something for a long moment, then acquiesces, merely clarifying, "not in front of the kids." Which really means, anybody. "Duck's thinkin' about it. He's got family out here, so if he comes, he'll stay with 'em. All Mundanes, though, far as I know." They may hire witches and wizards for the task force, but finding them in medicine or other sciences is difficult. It's why Abby's such a rare find. Well, one of the reasons. "Better keep my two-eye-see from meetin' your brother." He doesn't specify which brother at first, merely starts doing push-ups. "You keep up your routine on all your gallavantin' around?" The answer makes a difference in whether they keep adding reps, or go back a bit. "They'd be swappin' stories, and hell, maybe swappin' spit." He rolls his eyes again.

Siobhan laughs aloud at that - she can't help it. "You make us sound like an old married couple. 'Not in front of the kids'." She snorts. "Why, afraid Jack'll tie him to the bed and you'll have to train a new one?" After so many years of living with Jack, Siobhan almost always assumes it's her infamous paramour of a brother who is being referenced. When her limbs and core feel loose and limber, she flops back onto her back before rolling to her stomach - following his lead and moving into her least favorite part of training. Push-ups suck. "You think I'd let all my hard work go to rot?" She snorts. "Made my guide in Russia look at me weird, but all the other trips left me ways to continue in private." Three more presses and she amends that statement. "Well, just about everything I did made him look at me weird, but that might have been his default expression, too, I don't - ugh, really?" She shudders. "I love Minnie to death and Ducky seems like he'd be a fun old bloke, but I did /not/ need that mental image, thankyouverymuch."

Jethro lets out a deep laugh at her comments. The combination of the 'married' remark, the bit about Tony and Jack and all the rest just combine to make him shake his head, pausing in his routine to let the laugh escape. He considers again before speaking. "Don't own any damn golf clubs, do ya?" The non-sequitor is brushed over before he continues. "Then, let's add another five. That's what? Fifty?" He sounds positively gleeful at the idea. "What'd ya go to Russia for? Damn cold in the winter." He grunts a couple more times, finishing his set, and pauses, casting an unfamiliar spell on himself with his wand. "Dunno who'd be tyin' who up. Hear Tony tell it, he's some kinda …" He pauses, unsure of how to phrase this. "Instead'a just no complaints, they all sing like angels." He's said more about his 2IC than he usually does.

You ask around enough, and somebody is going to tell you were Professor Noble is. And then spread rumors faster then a wildfire about the well dressed American guy who has been wandering up and down the halls looking for her. Then he has to figure out what the 'Room of Requirement' is, a lazy looking gaze given to every door. It only looks lazy though, because he is -not- going to find himself lost in this bedamned castle more then once. Finaly, he hears Jethro and Siobhan verbally sparring. And, opens the door enough that he can lean against the frame with his hands in his pockets. "Gunny Gardener? I'd heard you wound up helping out over here." And then his gaze flicks towards Siobhan, a broad smile lighting his face. "You must be Professor Noble."

"Fifty?" Yes, there's just the eensiest bit of squeak in Siobhan's voice at that word. "You're a sadist, you are." It's a grumbled complaint, but a half-hearted one at best. Questions about Russia have her face going deathly blank in a split second and then it takes a moment to school it back into some semblance of normal. Defense mechanisms on autoresponse? Oh yes. "Went sightseeing." And that's all she'll be saying on the matter, obviously. Eager to grasp another topic, she latches on to this talk of the mysterious 'Tony'. "I'll be sure and tell Jack there's a challenge waiting for him back at your team. He might join up just for the kicks." Quietly rolling her eyes at his 2IC's supposed prowess in bed, Siobhan grits her teeth as muscles start to burn and pushes herself just barely through those next five before sprawling on the cool floor. It's then that the interruption from the door catches her attention. "Aye, that's me." And though she can't help the slightly lascivious sweep of her gaze - he's nice to look at /okay/? - there's something tight and distinctly wary in her manner as she regards him. At least Jethro will be proud of her - if he notices - because while checking him out, she also remembers to check him out. For weapons. "You need something?"

Nothing breaks the man's stride like hearing his name and rank called from a voice he knows, but isn't currently familiar with. He pauses, turns, tilts his head remembering, and grins. "Lieutenant Morgan." He stops, casts the strange spell again, and holds out his hand. "How th' hell are ya? And it's 'Agent Gardener' now. Workin' for the Feebs." Jethro grins, giving a slightly self-deprecating look. "Noble, it's alright." He caught both versions of 'checking out', and grins. "Morgan's good people. I trained 'im for a bit. Good people. For a sailor, anyway." He jerks his head, and invites the man in. "Just doin' a little PT. Welcome to join if ya want."

Jake's pretty quick to offer his hand in return for a firm shake. "Sounds like we've both moved up in the world then, Agent Gardener. I hit Lt. Commander myself, before I retired from active service." Not that he offers the reason for his retirement. But then, how long do Navy SEAL's last anyway? "For a sailor. Nice, nice. Can't resist can ya, Gardener?" he jokes back, also having caught the multiple once-overs from Siobhan. "Gun holster's hidden underneath the sport coat, and I have three knives on me. Dinner's on me if you can guess where they're hidden." he offers, not entirely tongue-in-cheek there. "What're you two working on, then? I haven't had a good workout in awhile. Maybe later I can catch you in your office, Professor. We have a… mutual connection I'd like to discuss."

At Jethro's assurance, Siobhan does, indeed, settle - a little. Keeping an eye on the stranger - partly because something doesn't quite add up and maybe just a little bit because even though she doesn't trust him, he's nice to look at - she rolls to her back to start sit-ups. There's no need for her to talk while they catch up. Listening suits her just fine for now. She reaches fifty-five by the time the attention once again shifts to her and she can't resist the challenge offered by Jake's game - as transparent as it would be to any snake worth her salt. "One between the shoulders, one at the hip and one on your calf." She's not looking at him just now, so she clarifies. "Inside the boot for action or strapped to the leg for day-wear." Jethro's trained her well, so far. And the young professor seems like she may, in fact, relax a little at that. She can treat him like a younger version of Jethro - maybe get in a little extra flirting - and move on. Good. But that resolve all comes crashing down when he utters his last. She literally freezes mid-motion, turning slowly to stare at him with fury building in hard cinnamon eyes. Good-looking, ranking military officer, obviously well-off, wizarding blood. "Dammit." And rolling to her feet, she flings her body around so that her back is to both men. And the reason why very soon becomes evident. Accompanying the growl in her throat is the sound of shattering glass as the mirrored wall opposite her shatters as if struck by a battering ram. The wooden rails are not left unscathed, either, and crumble to the floor in pieces of driftwood. For a moment, Siobhan just stands there, staring. Then, with a deep breath, she pulls her control back around her like body armor and turns to regard Jake with the cool poise and arrogance of the aristocracy. "You can please inform my mother that I've had about enough of her meddling in my private affairs and as flattered as I am by your interest, I must decline. I - " And for a moment that control cracks just a little, her eyes warm and her mouth softens just a touch. "I am afraid my interests have other focus - now and for the forseeable future." Poor Jethro - what an inaguration into the lives of the upper four-hundred.

"I get t' guess?" Jethro grins, already knowing where the man probably stows the knives. "Congratulations, kid." He nods sharply, the gesture telling. "Runnin' her through the basics. Ya remember how that works." It's not a question, merely the verification of an educated assumption. Man better remember the lessons Jethro taught him, or he'd be inclined to teach the lessons again. When Siobhan names the knife locations, Gardener flashes her a look of pride. Before the look is accompanied by words, however, there's a complete change in tone and focus, and Jethro is sitting there, his investigator's mind attempting to parse what's happened. "What'd you say, Morgan?" He goes over the words in his head, remembering what he knows of the families, and runs a hand across his face with an exasperated, "Aw, hell." He falls silent, merely watching his newest pupil for long, quiet moments as he finishes his sit-ups.

"Agent Gardner, I would say I'm sincerely impressed. But I think that's a given." Jake decides, when Siobhan so concisely dictates the wherabouts of his multiple sharp weapon placements. "Calf, for the record. I'm always prepared, since I still work in the security field." Give him credit, too, that his grin doesn't falter when she growls (in fact, he totally thinks that's hot!) and shatters the glass with, uhm, sort sort of magic. Mrowl. Now, he is fascinated. "Yes, it was your mother. But she hasn't contacted me in months. I politely demurred her attempt at matchmaking." he explains, making his enjoyment of her aristocratic about-face very much obvious. "And I know all about your other interests. All of them." He holds up a hand there, forestalling any interruption from Jethro - who might be inclined to save his ass from the fire. Or, not. But still. "And it's because of those I want to talk to you. I might even manage to get your mother off of your back for awhile. I won't say I'm harmless. A former Navy SEAL is never harmless. But I think you'll be intrigued by what I have to say."

'Aw hell' is right, Jethro. 'Aw hell' is probably the most appropriate summation of this entire situation. And from the looks of things, Siobhan is about to let loose the temper she inherited from her mother and give Mister Captain Ameripants a piece of her mind telling him so. But then he pulls out the big guns and within the span of seconds all color drains from her face. There's a glance to Jethro, then. She trusts him, but so far they've had a pretty strict 'hands off' policy on certain touchy subjects for each other. She's pretty sure he has at least a good idea of what's going on, but she's not entirely sure just how far that idea goes. "All of it?" she questions him quietly, her brown eyes narrowed in suspicion and even a hint of anger twisted up in fear. "I suppose I have no choice, then. We can speak in my office after Agent Gardener are finished." There's a pause and she nods sharply to Jethro to show readiness for the more combat oriented part of her training. "You staying or going, Ameripants?" Yes, she has to listen, but she doesn't have to play nice. And she's been backed up into enough of a corner that those claws haven't quite receeded. Yet.

"Down, boy." Jethro's whispered comment is given half in jest, half as advice. Jethro, being an investigator (read: naturally curious), listens closely to what's being said, and even more closely to what isn't. He knows his current protegee is intending to do something big, or she wouldn't be listening to him much at all. "Got it squared away?" He glances between the two. "Good. Warm up. We're at fifty-five. You add squats." He turns to Siobhan. "C'mon, Noble. Show me what ya got." He's fully aware that that includes showing 'Ameripants' the same thing.

"Ameripants?" Yeah, Jake totally glances down at his pants there; eyebrow quirked a little in good humor. "That'd be Lt. Commander Ameripants, then. Or just Jake. Or if you want to be formal, Mr. Morgan is just fine." He's taking it all in stride, and knows full well that he's just entered dangerous territory. "All of it." he confirms, having the gace to glance down at his shoes and then back up at her through his eyelashes. See his pretty eyes, Sio? "I just want my foot in the door, Miss Noble. Just to hear me out. And then I promise, I will leave you alone if that's what you want. I have very limited choices." he admits, happy enough to shrug off his jacket and roll up his sleeves. Of course, that just shows a literal arm full of needle holes - bruised, all the way up to the crook of his elbow where an I.V. was obviously hooked in for way too long. And he pays the sight no attention at all; Jethro knows better though. He trained him to pay attention to everything, so he's not showing it for no reason. And the investigator is bound to be curious enough to ask him questins later. "Anything you want me to do here, Gardner? Or am I just supposed to drop and give you a hundred'?" Although, he's already going through a few warm up stretches as he says it. He remembers the drill too well.

Padding softly towards Jethro, Siobhan cracks her neck once, then again. She glances back at Jake for his cheek, just in time to see him roll up his sleeves on some pretty impressive-looking marks. She's seen marks like those before in two separate instances - neither one means anything good. Setting her jaw, she turns back, letting Jethro give their guest whatever instructions he might find necessary while she closes her eyes and breathes deeply. Only when it seems he's finished does she open them again. Now, her face is blank, her eyes the only hint of life; her body is loose and her stance is balanced. A single nod is all the indication she gives before moving forwards. Five short jabs - broken up in the middle by a thrust of her elbow toward his jaw - open things up smoothly, but predictably. These are her workout moves, not her combat ones - a distinction only Jethro would probably catch.

Jethro does catch the distinction and ably channels his energy, and his curiosity for that matter, into basic blocks. He opens his mouth, ready to berate the man for not simply falling in line, remembering his routine — once a DI, always a DI, after all — when he spots the tracks. Easily maintaining the rhythm for the blocks, Jethro sighs again. "Aw, Hell," he repeats, closing his eyes for just a brief moment. "Please tell me they didn't serve you a big chicken dinner for that." He nods toward the man's arms. It's the wrong assumption, but it's the one — of two — that he feels safest attempting to verify. "Nice workout, Noble. C'mon." He steps right into her face, waiting for their dance to begin.

"The only big chicken dinner I've had is KFC, Gardner." Jake drawls, insult written into every line of that handsome american face of his. "Honorable discharge after 5 years in the elite unit. The rest I've spent protecting high profile diplomats and activists with my own firm. I don't shoot up." So yeah, it's the other option. One that sits equally ill with him truth be told. So while he's stretching and doing solo exercises, he also watches. Carefully. Not at all the way one assumes he's going to be looking at a pretty woman either. But assessing in an entirely different manner. Strengths. Weaknesses. Whatever he's seeing, he seems reassured by.

"Big chicken dinner?" Siobhan asks Jethro quietly as they spar. She knows the Yanks have a strange obsession with eating that particular bird, but hasn't the faintest idea what it would have to do with nasty marks up and down a man's arm. Unless the chicken attacked him first? That's an unsettling thought. Jake's affirmation that he doesn't shoot up, however, solves some problems and intensifies others. "Haven't run into a man named Shadow, have you?" Because somehow drug-induced torture and interrogation sounds like it'd be right up his alley. Sha hazards another glance at those marks, but it costs her. She misses Jethro's swing until it's almost on top of her and only a startled duck saves her from a black eye. "Oh for fuck's sake, Jet. Fine." He wants it? She'll bring it. Moving into his space quickly enough to try and push him back, she lets herself go, arms starting to move with real speed now as she makes for the more vital pressure-points along the neck and torso. More to combat speed, but still all the style Jethro has taught her. Only when she's maneuvered herself in close and a little off to one side does she grin at him and pull out her new trick. Dropping suddenly to the ball of one foot and the tips of her palms, she sweeps her other leg around swiftly - making to knock him right off his feet. There are, it turns out, some benefits to hiring a cranky old bastard of a Russian bear guide.

It's not the first time someone's tried that trick on him. However, Jethro wasn't expecting it from Siobhan just yet. So, being caught off guard, he grunts as the leg catches him on the back of the calf. He was well-planted, or he would've gone down on his arse pretty quickly. He remains silent for a bit, pride shining in his eyes before he nods. "Do that one again." Not at any particular time. He wants to show her the counter for it. "Someone does that to you, whaddya do, Morgan?" It's like pop-quiz time. "Damn." Morgan's words begin to make a different kind of sense. "Didn't know which was worse." There's letting the Corps (or the Navy in his case) down, and then there's — this. "You gonna need anything?" It's a broad-ranged offer. "Could have my … have Duck give ya …" He's at a loss. Unsure what to say, he falls silent, keeping the man's counsel and returning his intense focus to Siobhan.

Again, casual. At least at first. "Shadow? Can't say I have. But I just might." Because any person that would remind a lady of an uncomfortable looking pincushion arm deserves to get his ass kicked. Jake just happens to need an ass to kick, to make him feel better. Like therapy. There's also maybe a little growl in his voice at that. "Never forgot that one. Nice move." he adds, before pointing out what the counter for it would be. "Who else have you been learning from?" he wonders, addressing Siobhan there, before he looks back at Jethro. "Appreciate that, Gardner. Nothing Duck can do for this, though." Clearly, he's about to say more. But it simply doesn't seem the time. Instead, he pokes the bear with a stick. "Keep that other foot out a bit more; and hold your palms like so…" he demonstrates. "It will give you more inertia, so when your opponent goes down, he goes down harder."

Siobhan soaks up that silent pride like a sponge, grinning up at him even as she pulls herself back up to stand. And as valiant as Jake's response to Shadow is, it strikes Sio as far to leonine for his own good and she can't resist a roll of her eyes. "I wouldn't if I were you," she offers her own form of warning. "I think I'm the only one to defy him twice and still live - and that was through sheer dumb luck." And some truly fantastic allies, but she's not ready to tip her hand quite yet. "He might not be the Dark Lord's equal in terms of sheer power, but he's got his ear and a more twisted mind than Tom's ever was." She moves into position across from Jethro again, this time into a more defensive stance. "He'd chew you up and spit you out for breakfast." She pauses just long enough to almost be rude, then glances over at him with a wicked grin. "No offense." And though she's not stupid enough ever to pass over a lesson that will give her an edge, Siobhan doesn't take kindly to that lesson coming from the self-assured Stars and Stripes boy, over there. So, she listens, but she does not acknowledge. Instead, she turns back to Jethro with a sharp nod. She's ready.

"Didn't answer me, Sailor." Jethro replies, not hearing the response he asked for. There's a little more steel in his tone as he chooses to stow the information he's gotten from the other man. Just like Siobhan, he acknowledges the information by not responding to it. He snorts at Jake's comment. "Man's got a point, Noble." He'll take the correction and pass it on. However, the reverse is true, too. Before he wades in to the session any more, he nods. "Bastard is downright batshit insane. Duck'd call him a psychopath. The old man is one, too, but it's the difference between a line-grunt and a spec-ops." He knows the comparison will go through. "What I hear, man needs to have an accident on the way to the North Sea."

"You would be surprised at the things I've seen, and done." Had to do, truthfully. And while the words themselves might be casual, the lack of any emotion at all that Jake puts into them suggests he's really not kidding. As for her run-ins with the man, he nods. "I know." It's grim, even. The way he agrees. "But that doesn't mean I wouldn't make him regret taking a bite out of me." Is he suicidal? Well, uhm, yes! But remarkably it doesn't show. That all comes off as the sheer bravado that his years in the military have earned him. "Aw, hell." He takes a line from Jethro there. "Let's just call it a battle I can't win, Gardner." That should be clear enough for his former DI. "That's some difference." is conceded. Since the comparison does indeed go through. "Huh. That right. Guess I just have to take both your word' for that. Duck's too." Doesn't mean he's going to stop thinking about it though.

"Your funeral," Siobhan quips dryly, unaware of just how rude that is in the circumstances. All she sees is a puffed up military pelican who acts as if he's invincible. Very Gryffindor - very annoying. Tired of waiting for Jethro to make a move, Siobhan pushes into his space with a few short jabs to try and get his attention back where she thinks it should be. "You done already, old man?" Despite her obvious agitation, there's a definite note of affection in the jibe. Jethro is Pack. There's no doubt about that. "Or you just want to see me go up against your boy, there?"

"Aw, hell. Not what I asked, kid, but damn." Jethro ignores the youngest pup for a few minutes. "Well, just give me a heads-up if I can do …" He slumps for the slightest moment, letting one of Siobhan's basic jabs hit him hard. It'll bruise, but he doesn't actually care at the moment. "Too damn old." He falls into rhythm with her remaining jabs, but it's all reflex. "Dunno. You wanna spar, Morgan? Dunno what you need, now." He's not going to pad anything for the man, but there is wisdom in keeping to what the man can do without pain. "Noble, shut yer yap for a moment." He's offended for the other man. "That what you want?" He asks the other man the question, though it's more for thought than for a response. "Up to him." He shrugs in response to Siobhan's question about sparring with him.

"Think I need a few days before I'm up to sparring with a spitting mad she-wolf." Morgan admits, though it's with an entirely too appreciative smile for Siobhan's temper. "Sorry Gardner, a bit distracted at the moment." he adds dryly, when it's pointed out that it was something else entirely he was being taken to task for. "But sure, in a few days I'd be happy to help out with some training." Which means he's still in top form. But, you know, maybe feeling some temporary unpleasantness. The 'Your Funeral' actually makes him chuckle. He can't help it. "At some point. Not yet, though." He heard Jethro's hidden question just fine there, and seems almost relieved that it's out there so he can agree to it. "I'll know when, and who to ask at least. Which I needed."

There's a very wolfish grin in response to Jake's comment and Siobhan finds that she is amused in spite of herself. She opens her mouth to quip right back when Jethro's rebuke comes down hard like a smack on the nose. Unused to really anything but gruff indulgence or teasing jibes from him, Siobhan shrinks back visibly, brown eyes wide before she can grapple down her shock and control her expression. Her last swing falls, half-hearted at best, to her side. "I think we're done." The remaining hurt is covered well by the pride of a wild thing - a she-wolf, indeed - and Siobhan pads across the room to quietly sweep her fingertips across the mess and with soft golden light repair the damage she'd caused before folding herself down to stretch along the ground near the back wall to let the two soldiers have whatever conversation they need to until she's finished.

Jethro nods, his attention on Morgan, at least until Siobhan quits. "Your call." He's not going to apologize for being a bastard, nor is he going to explain. His two words also serve as a reply to the other man, as well. "Fair nuff." Since his sparring partner has walked away and he's full of energy and warmed up, Jethro slides easily into forms of the hand-to-hand styles he was taught. Some of it is what he's taught the two of them, some of it he's picked up since Morgan and hasn't showed Sio yet. It's a graceful dance, and it lets the man forget about another one of 'his boys' dying and him offending the young woman he's taken under his wing. Morgan is free to join him, but for a few moments, he's no longer 'DI', just 'Marine.'

For a moment, Jake seems almost apologetic when Siobhan gets the proverbal newspaper smack on the snout. She'll have explanations soon enough though. And it's nice to feel just a single moment of relief knowing he's got a plan, of sorts, for a time down the road. One less thing to worry about. It will allow him to focus on the other reason why he's here. Name, Miss Noble. "Would you prefer I stop by tomorrow, Professor? I've left a file on your desk already. Call it a goodwill gesture, to show you that I'm sincere. I think you'll approve, and there are no strings attached." It's the details on an estate just outside of Kildare that he's recently purchased. And whom he hired caretakers for already - young Cianan Tyler's parents. Included, is a copy of the codicil on his last will and testament, affirming that the estate will be left to them in the event of his death. And no matter how hard she looks, she'll find no strings at all attached to it. It's just there, like a prettily wrapped present. "You nevr showed me those moves, old man. Take that a bit slower would you, so I can copy? Drinks are on me tonight, eh?"

Siobhan is thorough, but efficient. It doesn't take her long at all to go through her cool-down routine. "I'm ready, now." She stands and arches her back in one last stretch before tugging the hem of her camisole back down and padding over to her pile of clothing. "But if you want to stay and work for now, that's fine." Her outer robe is slung over her shoulders but the other bits and bobs are bundled up into a pile to be stuffed under one arm while she grabs her shoes in the other hand. "I'll be in my office for another two hours now and for three after dinner." Tomorrow is different, but she doesn't seem inclined to make anything easy on anyone right now. "Gentlemen." And then with a swoosh of robes to make her former Head of House proud, she leaves them to their exercises.


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