2007-08-09: Watch Out For That--


George_icon.gif McAlister_icon.gif Bekah_icon.gif

Summary: It was supposed to just be a simple first-time jog, but George and Ali just couldn't leave well enough alone. Bekah gives them both a well-deserved talking-to.

Date It Happened: August 9, 2007

Watch Out For That—

Battery Park

"I promise you," says George, fishing a washcloth out of one pocket, "you'll appreciate this by the end of the day. But I can't just tell you why— it's gotta be first-hand to get the full effect."

Okay. So Ali's here. And she's in shorts (yes, she owns some!) and a T-shirt (Zepplin!) and a sweatband… and battered old running shoes that probably haven't done much running to go along with their age. And she's eyeballing this man - unconvinced.

"First hand. Do you see this face? This is a face that believes you. And it's a face that's only agreeing to this because… I have no idea why. Why am I agreeing to this again?" It's a pointed question.

"Must be my boyish charm," he deadpans, without missing a beat. His own outfit used to have some sort of design on it as well, but it's been through the laundry enough times that only a few purple tatters remain amidst the gray backdrop.

The obligatory white earbuds are present as well, barely peeking out of one pocket, but he doesn't move to put them on. Instead, he walks over to the DJ, pointing at a tree in the distance and whispering something to her— then takes off at a dead run in the indicated direction.

"Oh.. hell no!" And with an abrupt laugh, she's after him - pelting up the walk that direction. Of course, it's not as though she's 'in prime shape' - she's fresh out of college! Excercise? What's that?

Nevermind. It doesn't mean she can't sprint after the man, and it certainly doesn't mean she won't be out of breath on reaching the tree. But to heck with it. She does her best - nobody's gonna beat her without a fight, right?

Er. Something like that. Darned Jersey stubbornness.

Age is in Ali's favor, though; for George, college is a distant memory by now. Within several paces, the head start is whittled down to within arm's reach, and it's only then that he glances over his shoulder and grins. "There's something I ought to tell you. I am not left handed!" With that, he turns back and picks up some more speed, widening the gap once again— whether he can keep it up for the second leg of the dash remains an open question.

The two are pelting down one of the paths in battery park, heading in the direction of a large oak that stands visible across one of the green spaces between sidewalks. Thankfully, the park's not too badly crowded .. yet.

Ali gets all serious though, eyes narrowing even as she's a bit too out of breath, even in that short run, to shoot back some sort of witty, unmanning, caustic reply. Instead? She concentrates on running - she keeps her pace, at least, even if there's not another burst of speed to match George's in that sprint.

Bekah is farther forward on that same path. She's dressed for a run, in shorts, an tank top, and athletic shoes with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She's running at a pretty good clip, but no means is she trying to sprint. At their pace, it's not going to take too much longer for Ali and George to catch up with her.

George begins to veer to the left, literally heading for the oak itself. He passes Bekah on that side, instinctively lifts his right foot higher— then, a step later, that instinct translates into conscious realization. "Watch the rock!" he calls out, looking over his shoulder once again… which is itself distraction enough that he doesn't slow down all the way, and runs his shoulder into the trunk with a thud of flesh on wood. Nothing major in itself, but the other runner is still heading for the same spot…

The woman chasing him… well. She sees the rock. She's just not exactly equating 'rock' with the statement 'can possibly trip over'. She doesn't take a spill, no - but she does end up yelping and tottery..

And with a shoulder aimed right at George's back at that tree, arms windmilling - and too out of breath to really say anything.


Bekah turns at that thud. She pulls one earbud from her iPod out of her ear, jogging over. "You two okay?" She calls out as she skids to a stop near them, looking over them with a clinical eye.

Just as George is shaking off the momentary disorientation of the first impact, that's when he sees the second coming. His arms automatically flail forward; not in time to slow her down, but managing to grab hold of her waist for a second before she has a chance to stumble backward.

Afterward, he straightens up and runs a hand down along his lower back. "I think so," he replies slowly, looking to Ali to see how she's making out.

Panting - and avoiding falling over simply 'cause George doesn't let her, the DJ gives the man a truly, truly baleful look. "So.." Pant. "This is jogging? Uh-huh."

And she looks back at Bekah's greeting, flashing a grin and - stepping back to lean down and rub at her ankle. "Yeah. I think. Mostly. it's his fault - just so you know."

Bekah looks over both of them with a nod. "Jogging? Or sprinting all out at trees?" She asks before she states. "I'm a doctor. I can give you a quick look if anything is bothering you."

George laughs, shaking his head as he leans back against the oak. It's actually kind of comfortable if you're, you know. Not moving at high velocity at the time. "Thanks, but I think we're all right. Just… overdoing the competition a little." He steps forward, easing one sneaker off and tipping some stray dirt and twigs out of it.

"And you didn't win. Just saying." Ali just .. sits, catching her breath. "I don't think I hurt more than my pride, ya know? And a bruise is a good reminder of that." She grins up at Bekah. "So. You do this 'running' thing too, huh? Masochist." The DJ pulls her right leg in close, her tone light and teasing.

Bekah laughs over to Ali. "Running is fun. Good stress relief. And a good way to keep in top notch shape." Her tone is light and humorous as she nods. "Good. Because I'm off right now, and I'd hate to have to use my skills out of the hospital." That's joking as well. She rests her hands on her head as her breathing evens out.

With the shoe safely back in place, George walks over, squinting at the afternoon sun as he offers Ali a hand up. "We'll call it a tie. And it does get better, I promise. One lap around at a steady walk sound good?"

"Alright. And a tie works - this time." Ali grins, reaching up to take that hand - and lever herself up with it. "Alyssa, by the way. Ali. This is George - who really is that serious, sort of, most of the time." Bright and amused, still, the woman brushes herself off with her free hand. "Apparently, he thinks I'm fat."

Bekah raises her eyebrows to George. "How have you not learned by now that you don't say things like that to women if you ever want to sleep with one again?" Bekah asks before she smiles over to Ali. "I'm Bekah. Nice to meet you." She pulls a leg back to stretch it out. "This is a good place to run, if you watch out for rocks and trees.

George shoots Ali a Look (tm, patent pending). "Oh, I do not!" See, you can get a rise out of him after all, it just takes a bit of work. 'Thinks I'm fat' works nicely. 'Sleep with' does, too; he doesn't say anything out loud, but his face wasn't that red even when he ran into the tree. "And yeah, it is— Central Park's not bad either, but it gets a little crowded during the day." And a little crime-ridden during the night, the NYPD's best efforts notwithstanding.

That would be an Evil Grin(tm) - given to women everywhere to abuse as they see fit. But Ali lets it all pass, giving George's hand a squeeze, letting go, and eying the path. "If we're walkin', let's walk. Coming, Bekah? Leaving me alone with him's probably not a good idea. There's this thing in the instruction book about having to kill him, if my memory's right." And.. she just starts down the path. "So you're a doc, huh? Was it you that was out here the other day with that kid? Cute kid. Weird kid." (re)

Bekah moves to walk along with them. "I believe I can accompany you. I think that perpetual torment is an available excuse to death, though." Bekah pauses for a moment think. "The crazy homeless kid. Yeah, I was there. And yes, I'm a doctor. I work at Mount Sinai."

George rubs his eyes as he matches pace with the others. "I should be so lucky," he mutters under his breath, hamming it up good and solid. "So— which kid is this, again? 'Cute' is not what you normally associate with 'crazy homeless'."

"Budding magician - and he's good, too. You should meet him. Whenever. Uh. he shows up. I haven't seen him since then." Ali shrugs, lightly - "Really nice - just.. not quite all there, you know?" She's not even limping. Wasn't too bad a hit, then, on that rock.

"Seriously, though? If he's only acting at being crazy, he's got an instant career in showbusiness. I've never seen anything like him."

Magic. Right. Bekah's isn't going to share her opinion on that. Instead she just shrugs. "He was cute and crazy. Doesn't work so well for the adult homeless, but he couldn't have been more than thirteen and way, way too naive to be on the streets. I hope he's alright."

George shakes his head. "Same here. Naive and on the streets is bad enough anywhere. Throw in 'thirteen' and 'New York'… lots of things could go wrong. Still, if he's like you say, he ought to have some friends looking after him by now."

"'ought to' doesn't mean 'does'. But … I haven't seen him since. Yeah, I hope he's alright." Ali goes to stick thumbs in shorts pockets.. until she realizes those shorts, being of the 'workout' sort, don't really have pockets. It's a moment of idle flailing and then realization, and a mutter. "I hate this getting in shape stuff. Nothing's convenient."

Bekah looks over to George. "I hope that they're the right sort of friends. Cute boys? Not the safest group." She may be jaded about it, but hey, she works in a ER. She looks over to Ali and shakes her head. "But being in shape is a wonderful thing. YOu have more stanima, you just feel better."

At that, George simply shrugs. He's never met the kid, and blind guesswork can only carry the conversation so far. "And yeah. I mean, it is tough, and afterward you want to go get some pizza and crash for a while. But then when you do—" He trails off, leaving the details to be discovered.

"… are you telling me pizza's like.. orgasmic twenty minutes after exercise? Because, in all honesty, this is not something I've ever heard." Ali eyes George. "… it would, though, explain all the pizza guys around Central Park. Prime jogger territory."

"Pizza right after you exercise would be almost self defeating." Not that Bekah is a super healthy eater. "If you're not used to this, go for something light when you're done." She's not going to leave Ali to learn that on her own.

"Sorry, guess you're right." It didn't bother him when he was first starting out, but that may have been for other reasons. "But no, it's not that— only one thing deserves that label." Bekah, don't you dare start. "It's more psychological… like the opposite of 'ugh, I'm eating too much today'. Like you really went out there and earned it."

McAlister points out, amused - "I always earn my 'za, thank you very much." And she lets it go, at that.

"So - apparently, there's all this stuff you have to be careful about when you go running through the park. And.. the end result is you feel like you earn your 'za and you have more stamina? I fail on the convinced part yet." She grins, impish. "Now. George. Wear bike shorts. THAT would be incentive."

Bekah grins over to Ali. "Well, you know, stamina has a lot of side benefits." She jokes before she looks over to George. "Bike shorts? I'm not sure men should ever wear those. Except for the guys in the Tour de France." Bekah shrugs. "Running is also a great way to deal with stress. You can pound it out of yourself with every step."

George smirks at Ali. It's time to play up the accent. "Aw, now you're just tryin' ta butter me up, ma'am." And pre-emptively moves an arm to block whatever she decides to swat him with for the 'ma'am' part. "Tell you what, though, I'll do it if you do…"

It's her left hand, really, coming with a laugh. "I look good in bike shorts." Ali glances to Bekah - "Now that. That maybe might possibly could be a good reason." She allows. "God knows I don't get enough sleep. Did.." A pause. "Did I just agree to do this crap again?"

"You can't just run once. You've got to run at least five times before you decide if you like it. Once isn't a good sampling." Bekah decides before she smiles to Ali. "Which one? The stamina for other things or the stress relief?" She's curious. She rolls her eyes over to George. "Men. Always trying to get women in the tightest things possible. Or nothing at all."

And now it's George's turn to pantomime swatting at Bekah in protest. "Oh, come on, she brought it up first! You were here!" But before he can continue in that vein, he peeks over at Ali once again. "Lack of sleep? I thought you just caught it on a different shift than most of us."

"Three jobs." Ali shrugs. "I got a day off last week - I caught up. You're lucky I'm even out here now." She grins. "The guys at the Den informed me I wasn't allowed to come to work for three days there, so there. Or else. And… I admit it, they're bigger 'n me. Meaner, too."

Bekah moves away from the swat in an overly dramatic way. "Sure, sure. Blame Ali." She says before she looks over. "Man, that sounds like you do need rest. I've only got one job and it wears me out sometimes. I can't imagine having three."

"Yeah, what's the third one? I knew you were working part-time at the Den, but I thought that was just till the radio gig settled down some more. You need to push 'em for a prime-time special, something to set 'em apart from every other set of four letters starting with W."

"Prime time - riiight." Ali snorts. "My numbers are comin' up, though- no." She glances between both, and blinks. "Oh. The court thing. Remember the kid? I ended up pulling community service for a couple hundred hours, but it beats jail time, right? So I landed this vaguely cherry job up at Memorial pushing carts around in the morning and restocking laundry. Just another couple of weeks and that one's done." The woman grins across at the doc - "Trust me, what I do isn't nearly as hard as what you do." There's a mild sense of discomfort about the entire subject - so. Transparently, she changes it. "And the Den? I'd probably have quit except for Trina, you know? She got hurt a while back, and she and Jack are sort of glued to the hospital."

"Which hospital?" Bekah asks as she continues along. "The Den? That's a bar, right?" So maybe she doesn't know quite the same circle of people in this huge city. "So you work in radio? And what do you do, George?"

George winces. "I heard that'd been taken care of, but I missed the details. And yeah, I can understand having to stick around for that." He doesn't know Jack or Trina, at least not by name, but 'glued to the hospital' is pretty universally bad. "Yeah, down in Brooklyn. Lotta union guys hang out down there. Me, I—"

He rings, is what he does. No, wait, his cell phone rings. Where's he keeping a cell phone? He doesn't have any pockets, either— oh, wait, it's clipped next to the iPod. "Hello? —You're kidding. —Does he know it's a Saturday? —All right. Jesus. It'll be at least thirty, forty-five minutes, okay? —Yeah." Beep, click.

"Nathan's a good boss. His supporters aren't. Gah. I'll have to catch up with you guys later, okay?" Ali's got his number as well, no doubt.

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