Running My Troubles Away [Open]

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Though Iris keeps herself fit mostly by doing yoga at home, there are some days when it's just impossible for her to find her center. Usually it's due to stress or something gnawing at her mind. Today is sort of a mix - her caseload of patients has been heavier than she likes lately, and every time she has a spare moment to think about anything else she can't stop thinking about Nathaniel - good things, of course, but just because your thoughts about a person are good that doesn't mean that they can't be stressful too. Or in this case, the problem is that the thoughts are perhaps too good.

In situations like this, there is only one cure: a run. A very long, very hard run that gives her a nice runner's high that simply drains all of the stress away. Unfortunately, this need came up at the same time as a fairly decent snowstorm, so running outside is not an option. But one of the local gyms has an indoor track - which she prefers over a treadmill since it simply feels so much more natural to not have some machine telling her how fast to go for how long.

So, after bundling up a bit, she heads to the gym where she has to unbundle herself before she can hit the track. Once she has her winter layers safely stored away and her water bottle filled, she heads over to the track. Time to see how many laps it will take for her peace of mind to be restored.

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While the hotel has it's many luxuries, nothing can be the air of competition of a gym. This one is not as private as he is familiar with but does fine. There are very few things a black AMEX won't purchase.

Having endured the verbiage of those touting 'smoothies' and other protein drink nonsense, an hour and a half of weight training, a dip in the pool for laps, the track now seems clear enough he can put in his distance miles for the day. It's no outside, but Gotham seems to be fond of coating it's city in a white, thick blanket of snow, and is relentless in her comfort.

So now it's the track, a slow lap started after dedicated stretching. More than a few glances have been exchanged; Gotham's variety and selection yet again have blossomed in the unlikeliest of places. But he chuckles to himself at the thought, the species here must have some familiarity with themselves, if they are so seeking out diligently to better their state of physicality, and state of mind.

Midway through the second lap, a fellow devotee catches his eye. Her outfit is demure in aqua and plum, hair back and up, and hitting a decent stride. She is focused, it seems, considering the earbuds dangling. That is a pity. Shrugging off her concentration, he exhales, and increases pace. Running is a peaceful exercise, especially if the one doing it understands how to let go, and let be.

Several yard ahead, and the slim woman is still in his mind. He may catch her eye in his own blue and grey getup. Shorts, a fitting tanktop. Its clear he knows himself, maybe, perhaps a bit too well as he is all honed muscle and dedication. But perhaps not, considering his pace is rather non-pedestrian due to his own schedule of differing calisthenics.

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Saying that Iris is focused is actually an understatement - she's practically off in her own world, which consists of almost nothing but Enya and keeping one foot in front of the other no matter how much her lungs and leg muscles protest. She's in excellent shape and can keep a decent pace for a rather long time, especially when she's trying to calm her thoughts - getting a runner's high takes a lot of work, but that's what she's aiming for. So for her this run is not peaceful, or at least not physically.

In fact, after a couple laps just to get herself fully warmed up, she picks up the pace and soon finds herself starting to drip with sweat. And to keep herself going, she's ignoring almost everything - especially the protests of her body about what she's doing to it. The only thing she doesn't ignore as much is the other people on the track. Of course, that's mostly so that she doesn't accidentally bump into someone - while the general rule that those going faster get the inside of the track while the slower people stay on the outside keeps 'traffic' at a manageable level, there's still the occasional person to dodge around, and since she doesn't want to be one of those people for someone else, she likes to keep herself aware of when someone faster is coming up behind her.

And it's for this reason that she notices the man in blue and grey, but though she happens to catch his eye in passing, her friendly smile is slight and distracted. After all, she's very focused on her run, and even if she wasn't she has a boyfriend. And a ridiculously attractive one at that. Younger, too. Not that anyone could know that without a ring on her finger.

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Not to distract anyone, especially considering this woman is quite determined, he would hate to be the one at fault for her not achieving her goal, he nods in turn as she sees him in passing.



The rest of his 8-mile run is paced, and timely finished. Energized and rank he makes his way to the locker room to shower. A mere half hour later he is emerged a new man. Hair still damp, but freshly showered and dressed in jeans and a fitted t-shirt he then spots the same woman who had an impressive pace on the track.

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Having not really noted the man very much to begin with, Iris doesn't really notice whether she finishes at the track first or he does. In fact, she doesn't really pay attention to either time, distance, or speed as she runs - she's not doing it in an attempt to get into any particular shape, after all. Though as she presses herself on, she finds her mind settling and then finally relaxing as the strain she's putting it through causes the worries of the day to melt away.

When she's finally had enough she lets herself slow and then stop, her water bottle much lighter than it was when she began. Then she pauses to stretch - everyone knows that you stretch after exercise, never before. Of course, her stretching is a bit more involved than the average runner's, since she's a long-time yoga enthusiast. And now that she's relaxed and not in a hurry to go anywhere she takes her time as she looses up her leg muscles before they decide to reward her long run by cramping up on her. That done, she heads back into the locker room.

When she gets there, she decides against an immediate shower - she'd much rather bathe at home, and one of the advantages of being a woman is that she tends to sweat much less so the need for it isn't very dire. She's actually pretty sure that she sweats less in general than most - there's hot Arizona blood in her veins so the heat of a run shouldn't be anything to her. Never mind that she's spent enough years in Gotham that she should be very wall adjusted to the climate by now. So she simply throws her black velour tracksuit on... and her coat, hat, scarf, gloves, snowboots... see, she still has Arizona blood! Though on her way from the locker room to the frigid outdoors, she hears a chime from her cellphone, so she pauses near the front desk area to take her gloves off, fish her phone out of her pocket, and at the very least see if it was Nathaniel.

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Glowing. That is the impression he gets as he spots his fellow runner near the front desk. Running a hand through his nearly too long hair, he grabs his bag and jacket, and walks to her.



"Excuse me, but I noticed you are a rather focused runner. Could I interest you in a cup of coffee, or a smoothie?" It's not the smoothest line in his queue, but it is an honest question. An accented, honest question.

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The text makes Iris smile slightly, and she hastily sends back a short message before the phone goes back into her pocket. She's about to start putting her gloves back on when a voice seeks to catch her attention. Looking over at the man, it takes a moment for her to remember that he was one of the other people on the track, and even when she does she only remembers vaguely that he'd been one of the more hardcore runners.

She smiles at his words, easily taking his mention of her focus as a compliment. "Thank you!" she says, "You were going pretty good yourself." She does have to stop and pause to consider his question though, but she eventually says, "Well, I don't drink coffee, but now that you mention it a smoothie does sound nice." And she knows that there's a place practically next door - possibly to prey upon all the health-conscious people attracted to the area by the gym, never mind that most blends are probably less healthy than the people drinking them assume. But Iris didn't come here for her health anyway, or at least not her physical health, so that hardly matters to her.

"My name is Iris, by the way," she introduces herself with a smile, pulling on her gloves - because, yes, in spite of the shortness of the distance to the nearest smoothie shop she'll want them. "So where are you from?" she asks curiously, as she noticed his accent but hasn't heard enough of it to place it herself.

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Leaning against the desk, a hint of delight lights up his ice-blue eyes. "Thank you. I am a regimented enthusiast-not only in running, but other disciplines as well. I couldn't help but notice your strengths."

He's quite glad she takes him up on his offer. He noticed the shoppe next door as well. "One of the members here mentioned it is good post-workout," he offers. Reaching for his own coat, it's pulled on, and buttoned up, a pair of fine leather gloves removed from his pocket and slipped on as well.

"I am Marc. Forgive me for not introducing myself, first," He adds, offering a hand. "France, originally. I am looking to expand business, and Gotham was suggested highly. Are you a native, ah, how do they say it, Gothamite?" He stumbles for a moment, searching for the right word.

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Smiling at his compliment, Iris nods and says, "Well, thank you! I'm usually more of a yoga and meditation person, but today I just really needed a run." And that explains why she'd been so focused on her run. Focus is kind of her thing.

She gives a firm nod in agreement when he mentions smoothies being good for after a workout. They are - or, well, depending on your workout goal they can be. But that's true of pretty much any food.

When he offers his hand, she ends up having to hesitate for a second to tug the last bit of the cuff into place before she smiles and reaches out to shake his. "Pleased to meet you, Marc! And yes, it's 'Gothamite'. But no - I've been here for about five years, but I still claim Arizona," she explains with a smile, turning toward the gym's entrance to begin the short, cold walk to the smoothie place. "So what do you think of the 'States, and Gotham?" she asks him curiously, always curious about the perspective of an 'outsider'.

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"Running is good for focus, as well. I swim, practice martial arts, dabble in parkour. To each their own solitude," he muses, before grinning. "Arizona is the desert, if I am recalling my geography. And much warmer than here."

The cold air blast him in the face, blowing his long hair behind him. "Cold, mostly. Gothamites are mostly friendly, and of a variety, I have found thus far. Most are willing to enlighten me on places to go, eat, so forth. What about yourself?" This women so delicately named after a flower is delightful. Radiating a solid foundation. And she runs.

Sidestepping her, he reaches the door first, and opens it, waving an arm for her to go in. "After you."

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As Marc lists off his own preferred exercises, Iris's eyebrows lift in surprise at the variety of them but nods easily - not everyone is as specialized as she is, after all. She also gives a quick nod as he remembers correctly about Arizona. "Yes - I miss not having to deal with weather like this," she comments with a gesture in the direction of the window.

Smiling in surprise when she sees him hurry to reach the door first, nodding her appreciation as she steps through it. And when she does, she's immediately assaulted by a torrent of snowflakes, though not more than her winter clothing can handle. It's falling quite steadily, though fortunately the wind isn't bad at the moment.

"Oh, I agree - it's cold!" she replies, looking around at the flakes. Snow wasn't completely unheard of where she'd lived, but it was a very rare thing. When she'd moved to Gotham, it suddenly transformed from a novelty into a hassle. "And Gotham is very different in a lot of ways - more crowded and a completely different mentality," she adds as they start heading for the smoothie place, "There's plenty of work for me here - I'm a psychologist."

Now back in her pocket, Iris's phone makes a sound indicating a message but, as much as Iris wants to immediately check it, she'll wait until they reach the warmth of the indoors again - it isn't far.

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While the weather is a challenge, it also offers opportunity. "Experience, it offers one who is not as familiar with it. One can always learn from something different-even the weather." He offers to that.

The snow is coming down a bit heavier, the sky seeming to fall apart and bless them with it's remains. It could be worse, but it is passable for the time being.

Waiting until she has passed into the shop, he will follow, stomping the accumulated snow from his shoes. "It is more grim here. I have noticed this. And the satirical hobbies of those who prefer the nocturnal life is quite amusing," he adds, removing his gloves and making his way to where they can order.

"You must have a mine of work. There is always a need for medical professionals, no matter what their specialization. My own therapist at home because a great friend. I do wish humanity as a whole would overlook the stigma assigned to psychology as a field, and assert the rationalization that everyone needs someone to talk to, and not only that, but listen to in their lives. It is not a bad thing." It is an opinion, but one that is not as American. Therapy is a boon, not a punishment.

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As soon as they step inside, Iris removes her gloves and fishes her phone out of her pocket to check the text message. Whatever it is, it causes her to smile and she writes a short reply before putting it back into her pocket. But, not allowing that to interrupt their conversation, even as she does so she follows him into the line and comments, "I wouldn't exactly call it 'amusing'." She shakes her head, looking up at the menu so that she can decide what she wants.

Though what he says next about her profession makes her smile. "Oh, there's no shortage of clients here. And you're right - there's no need for the stigma. If you ask me, there wouldn't be as many severe cases if it weren't for people being reluctant to admit that they may have a problem and neglecting treatment," she comments with another shake of her head. Hmm, is she more in a citrus mood or a berry mood? Unable to decide, she hangs back just slightly and allows Marc to order first if he wants to.

In her pocket, her phone chimes again with another message.

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It is a farce, but she is agreeable, so he doesn't push the issues. Offering a hand so that she can go first, he finds them standing side by side, chattering away. "The media are a large problem. It's a stigma because if we, as humans are not perfect, we are flawed. And those flaws are thusly punished."

Taking a moment he peruses the lists, drinks, and shakes, turning once when he spots her looking to her phone.

Soon enough his turn is up, and he recites his order of ingredients, waving her ahead so he can pay for both of them. It really is the least he can do.

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Surprised that her phone has a message again so quickly, Iris pulls it out again to look at it, and whatever it is makes her laugh. Another quick response is sent and the phone is pocketed again. "Well, it makes no sense to punish people for flaws - at least not the kind they can't help. Everyone has them," she replies. Hmm, she's definitely in more of a citrus mood.

Placing her order, she looks confused for an instant when he waves her ahead, though she's quick to realize why and gives him a surprised smile - ah, this is his treat, apparently. Well, that's fine with her! Watching them quickly blend together their smoothies for a moment, she turns to Marc and comments, "I originally came to Gotham to obtain my doctorate at Gotham State University - they have a good program. It was never my intention to stay past that, but then I ended up landing a job at the Arkham Asylum and I just couldn't pass that up."