The thunk of Erin's boots, the signature herald of her arrival, is preceded by the sharp smell of burning gunpowder. When she slips into the gym it's just a faint haze in the air around her, little sparks of the stuff, but spotting Crabb...well. The little fireworks show is suspiciously like a laugh at Erin's expense. Got a type, do you Peters?
It's at least enough to agree to Crabb's request by taking up the punching bag. For such a slender thing she's remarkably stiff, holding admirably onto the bag with those heavy boots planted on the floor. Erin observes a set, then another, before her voice drifts out in a pause between rounds of punching, musical and lilting.
"There someone's face on this bag, Ms...?" The question has no judgment, but it isn't exactly the compassionate outreach of a big-hearted neighbor. Erin's expression is all focused interest.
2. Bend my heart and even break my knees
It's at least enough to agree to Crabb's request by taking up the punching bag. For such a slender thing she's remarkably stiff, holding admirably onto the bag with those heavy boots planted on the floor. Erin observes a set, then another, before her voice drifts out in a pause between rounds of punching, musical and lilting.
"There someone's face on this bag, Ms...?" The question has no judgment, but it isn't exactly the compassionate outreach of a big-hearted neighbor. Erin's expression is all focused interest.