Irene took his phone and added herself as a contact. "Yeah sounds good dude," she said as she passed it back to him. "Have a good workout." With that she went off to do her own. Calf raises, hip thrusts, plenty of crunches, flutter kicks, and planks. After strength she went on another run to burn off the rest of her energy. Not as long of a run as she would have normally gone on but they were burning daylight and running ten miles after leg day was a feat. Tomorrow would be different.<br/><br/>She got back to her room, still no sign of a roomate. Good. More space for her and less annoyance. Not bothering to be polite about her stuff she just brought it all into the shower. She unpinned her bun and a crimped curtain of blond hair rolled down her back to her waist. Washing her hair would take the longest. Once all squeaky clean she scraped her hair back and put it into the tight, severe bun once more. She selected another, clean of course, pair of black leggings and a dark grey tank top. This one had a 4 tone rainbow on it with bubbly letters that read "THIS IS MY KILLING SHIRT." Black boots, four inches, of black leather were tightly laced. Lacing them tightly she didn't have to wrap her ankle with an ace bandage. Smokes, lighter, phone/wallet, shades. All she needed. She'd like her gun but weapons weren't allowed on campus.<br/><br/>Irene headed outside and lit up her first cigarette since running to the gym. She inhaled deeply, savoring the smokiness. Her phone vibrated. Gordie was ready to head out to grab some stuff. 'Ouside,' was her simple response back as she leaned up against her car. When he emerged she lowered her sunglasses a bit, cigarette hanging out the side of her mouth. She was no cradle robber but damn the boy cleaned up well. In a few heavy drags she finished the cigarette and toss the butt in a garbage can. "Alright let's roll out," she said as she hopped into the driver's seat.<br/><br/>Traffic was terrible. It was always bad in Florida but Miami was particularly rough even at that time of day. Kill or be killed. Irene was a calm enough driver though, smooth on the gas and brake. Right up until someone cut them off and she had to slam on the brakes. "Ya fuckin' window lickin' shit stain get off the road!" Her horn blared at the driver, they returned with a single digit salute. "Welcome to America Gordie," she said as they went on their way down the road.<br/><br/>"Use your god damn blinker you donkey fucking slut-bagel!" She didn't honk at the old lady who had slowed to a crawl to make her turn into the local YMCA but she couldn't help frustrated yelling. Finally they made it to the freeway where traffic flowed a little freer. "So you hoping to play professional hockey in the states or back home? Hope you're going for a real degree and not just here to get recruited. Lots of football players do that and end up with a bullshit degree and no NFL career." Irene stopped herself and winced a little. "Not to shit on your dreams, didn't mean it that way."<br/><br/>They made it to Target in one piece and Irene rolled right up to a handicapped spot. Why not take advantage of her plates right? "I'd go to Wal*Mart but I don't go if I'm not strapped. Campus is apparently a gun-free zone," she said as she tossed the car in park and stepped out.