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Burn This Floor

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Jemma is running, something that might be Nicki Minaj leaking out of her headphones, head dipping down occasionally to look at the StarkPad attached to the machine, swiping fingers over whatever it is she and Fitz have decided to try and build this week, unable to switch off entirely. She’s in pink sneakers and a faded My Little Pony t-shirt, ponytail bouncing along to the rhythm of her strides.

There’s all kinds of things Skye could be watching from this image, so it’s kind of weird that she’s just watching Jemma’s ponytail, the neat elastic that matches her sneakers – for real – holding back all but a few tendrils that are trickling down Jemma’s cheeks as she bites her lower lip and pokes at the graphics in front of her.

“You could be more obvious,” Trip says behind her, wearing a vest and a smirk, clearly down here for the weights.

“I’m being very discreet,” Skye replies, even though she last laid a punch on the bag in front of her about three and a half minutes ago.

“Maybe ask May to go through that again with you,” Trip suggests cheerfully, adding: “c’mon, you can spot for me.”

Skye considers her options. “I’m kind of distracted,” she admits.

Trip claps a hand against her shoulder. “I know,” he says, “but the angle’s better over there anyway.”

It’s not like she’s going to get any more defence training done today anyway, Skye reflects. “I’m very subtle,” she repeats, and Trip just grins.