Spotter
@ruborosa:
Normally Patrick preferred to work out on his own. But lately the home gym in his basement only served as a cage that trapped him in his own thoughts. Noise soothed him, feeling small in a room full of people helped him let go. There was the whir of treadmills going, the sound of weights clinking, and to his left the pounding of fists against a punching bag.
His smooth stride didn’t stop as he let go of the treadmill to check his watch and then eye the brunette at the punching bag. He’d been waiting for a turn for a good half hour now, and it seemed like the girl was nowhere near losing steam. Patrick found her intriguing to watch. When you lived long enough you could spot the difference between the people who trained for muscle, and the people who trained for survival, for the purpose of a fight.
Gaze shifted down to his treadmill as the timer beeped his completion. He could go again but...eyes flickered over to the girl. Instead he toweled lightly at his forehead and wiped down the machine, moving to stand a safe distance to the side of the brunette, arms crossed lightly against his chest. “Did that bag do something to upset you? You seem utterly determined to split it at the seams...and that’s going to leave a lot of work for the poor part time teenagers that do the grunt work here.”