[Doesn't take Rumlow long to get there, just a few blocks from where he's at. Brings a pair of wraps, just in case they don't wanna turn their knuckles into raw hamburger. A couple bottles of water, the med kit and a change of shirt all go into his duffel, which now leans against a concrete pillar. Rumlow's doing some shadow boxing when Dean arrives, already working up a sweat, but it's impossible not to, in Hell.
He stops when he sees him arrive, waves. His hand comes up to sweep his hair back, then down to scrub the sheen of sweat from his face.]
[ Dean doesn't bring anything along with him because, well, he just doesn't have much of anything to bring. He's still borderline broke most of the time and while he's got a change of shirt he can whip out when he feels like, that's about it. It's not like it's that hard to work up a sweat here on the best of days, and this is only going to bring about the heat that much more, so whatever-- might as well live with it.
But Dean shows up easily enough, good at following coordinates because when you've got a marine for a father, coordinates are all you know. Lifting his hand in greeting at the wave, Dean makes it the rest of the way over, halfway grinning. ]
Just a little warm up. [Rumlow grins back, wiping some sweat from his upper lip.] So, you schooled or self-taught?
[It's an important distinction to make. Something Rumlow wants and needs to know if he's gonna make commentary. It's not like Dean called him out here for a lesson, exactly, but Rumlow's kind of always got coaching on his mind these days. Besides, if he wants to draw him in as an ally, it'll be good to know he's been instructed on proper form, should it come down to it.
After all, as handy as guns are, bullets are finite. Your body is always something one should be able to fall back on.]
voice > action
[Doesn't take Rumlow long to get there, just a few blocks from where he's at. Brings a pair of wraps, just in case they don't wanna turn their knuckles into raw hamburger. A couple bottles of water, the med kit and a change of shirt all go into his duffel, which now leans against a concrete pillar. Rumlow's doing some shadow boxing when Dean arrives, already working up a sweat, but it's impossible not to, in Hell.
He stops when he sees him arrive, waves. His hand comes up to sweep his hair back, then down to scrub the sheen of sweat from his face.]
action
But Dean shows up easily enough, good at following coordinates because when you've got a marine for a father, coordinates are all you know. Lifting his hand in greeting at the wave, Dean makes it the rest of the way over, halfway grinning. ]
Started without me.
permaaction;
[It's an important distinction to make. Something Rumlow wants and needs to know if he's gonna make commentary. It's not like Dean called him out here for a lesson, exactly, but Rumlow's kind of always got coaching on his mind these days. Besides, if he wants to draw him in as an ally, it'll be good to know he's been instructed on proper form, should it come down to it.
After all, as handy as guns are, bullets are finite. Your body is always something one should be able to fall back on.]