"Do you want me to leave?"
"No, we need to talk about it!" she said slamming the door shut behind her.
He stared at her stepping out of her boots and removing her jacket at the same time. "First you pick night shift three times in a row, then the whole collapsed solar panel disaster that takes you all of yesterday, and then medical swamped for the food poisoning this morning," she said moving onto unbuttoning her jeans, "You can't avoid me forever! We are going to talk about your little side project, now!"
He grimaced. "You're covered in puke…"
"Did I mention food poisoning?" she snapped, clearly irritated, "The Fords kid got sick on me, that's why we're here," she concluded tying her hair up.
"But -"
"Oh for heaven's sake, turn around! Just look at the wall," she ordered.
Meekly, he turned on his heels and let his gaze wander around till it mercifully fixed on a dent in the metal of her quarters. He felt like a schoolboy in the principal office, trying hard not to think of her, undoubtedly underdressed, splashing water on herself just behind him.
"It wasn't my idea, anyway," he preempted "but I think it could help in the long run."
"Really, Marcus? Because so far I had to treat three broken bones, a bleeding nose, two dislocated shoulders, and cracked ribs. In one week."
He grimaced again, shrugging helplessly to the wall, not really knowing what to say. It wasn't his fault people were unfit, clumsy and untrained after a lifetime in space, it took time and perseverance to get in shape and do what the grounders did since childhood, climbing trees and jumping off collapsed buildings; they certainly could all benefit from that side project. But, "They'll get better," was all he could manage.
"At parkour?" she all but shouted back, "Someone lost their front teeth on the roof of the mess hall, Marcus! Couldn't you just organize… I don't know, salsa lessons instead? People don't usually lose their teeth dancing."
"Fine," he sighed at last, almost turning around rolling his eyes before remembering she was probably still half naked and fuming (and he was quite convinced by now this setting was all a ploy to make him fluster) "We'll have basic training for everyone first. And dance lessons."
He heard her giggle behind him, much closer than expected, and this time he did turn around to find her wrapped in a towel, craning her neck to eye him suspiciously.
"And who's going to teach salsa?" she sniggered.
He smirked back down at her, pretending to be unaffected by the amount of visible wet skin. "Show up after dinner and you'll find out," he dared, stepping around her and leaving her alone to redress.
Perfect, he mentally cursed, now he just had to - cool and - find a dance teacher (or the closest to a dance teacher Camp Jaha could provide) before sunset; and show up to class as well. Not that he needed salsa lessons, but he certainly was not one to pass up a chance to make Abby twirl in his arms.