(Prompt request: the way you said "I love you"- 27B. A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips)

Moral Support

"Five more," Theron says, looking down at her from his perch atop the right-hand post as she dangles, arms straight, from the bar. "Almost done."

"I- ugh- I'm tired." She pulls herself up until her chin clears the bar. "Thirty-six. Good enough."

He shakes his head. "Nope. You made me promise to make you do the whole set. Forty. Four more."

(She had made him promise; she was nearly back to full strength after the battering she'd taken in the fight with Arcann, but only nearly. Valkorion's meddling had saved her from losing her arm entirely, perhaps the only useful thing he'd ever done in all his interference, but even with the shield the shockwave from the blows had left deep bruises that purpled her arm from wrist to shoulder.

The fighting hasn't eased any, despite Arcann's absence- he's nowhere to be found and frankly if he wants to stay exiled forever, kept safe by Senya, he's welcome to as long as he leaves the war alone. But if Arcann was relentless, his sister's ten times worse-

She's going to need her knife arm. Soon.)

"Slavedriver." Huffing, she lowers herself again, shifting her grip. "Horrible."

"You wound me. It was a command-" he reaches out, tapping the top of her head as she clears the bar once more- "and you're the Commander, right? I'm just doing as I'm told. Three more."

She stops, then, and moves herself over a few handwidths to the right, nearly at the edge closest to him. "So help me, Theron, if you make that pun I will bite you."

"I'm just saying. No puns."

Eyes locked on his, she straightens her arms, ignoring the nagging cramp in her right bicep- nothing worth doing was ever painless, after all. "Bad enough-" she exhales at the nadir point, then draws in another breath- "coming from Lana."

"Well," Theron shrugs, "I mean, you're not commandeering anything at the moment, so- ow!"

Teeth sunk into his thigh as she completes the repetition, she grins around a mouthful of trouser. "I did warn you."

"Next on Odessen News Network: cannibalism on the rise." Rubbing his leg, he leans over to swat at her nearer hand as she scoots herself back along the apparatus to the opposite side. "Commander viciously bites best spy in the Alliance. A new rakghoul plague, or something more sinister? More to come."

She laughs, nearly whacking her chin on the bar on the way down; her arms really are starting to hurt, now. Only two more. She can do this. "You're ridiculous."

"And you love it." Eyebrow raised, he looks down at her. "Luckily for me."

"I love you," she says as he grins teasingly, a smile bubbling on his lips in the way it always does when she's said something that makes him really, honestly happy, "terrible sense of humor and all." As she starts to lift herself again she winces, though, another cramp rocketing up her forearm until she nearly has to let go. "Though I could stand for a little encouragement at the moment."

"That-" Theron shifts on the support post, leaning over with both hands on the bar- his right between hers, his left on the outside, facing her; he swings himself down ever so carefully until he's hanging just beside her- "I can do. Last two together?"

She nods, takes a deep breath in, and hauls herself up. He's been resting for the last few minutes, watching her, and he matches the movement easily (she tries not to let herself be distracted by the way his muscles shift beneath his shirtsleeves; he's been training harder in the last few months and it shows), turns his head to look at her.

"One more." He nudges her leg with his. "You've got this."

"What do I get," she says, "for the last one?"

In response he dips down, brushes his mouth across her knuckles. "Meet me back up here and we'll figure it out."