Helping Hands || saltyprotector
@saltyprotector
Coming to the gym had been a bad idea.
It had seemed like a logical progression at first -- he needed to be in peak physical condition if he wanted to be a good hero, and running with mixed-in calisthenics wasn’t cutting it anymore. He needed something heftier, more meaningful, that would have more of a noticeable impact, and he’d been hoping to find that at his local gym.
Unfortunately for him, it took him a whole twenty seconds after he walked past the receptionist desk to realize he’d never set foot in a gym before. He found himself surrounded by people in far better shape than he was, all of which made themselves busy with machines that looked wholly incomprehensible to him. All of the determination that he’d been carrying as he stepped through the door seemed to wane as it hit him that he had no idea exactly why he was here.
Still, he couldn’t let that discourage him. He took a deep breath, looking around the gym. Surely, he could figure something out. He strolled towards the dumbbell rack, deciding lifting weights was as good of an exercise as any -- that helped build muscle, right? He glanced over the rack, before finally settling on some dumbbells that looked like he should be able to work with...
And then promptly put them back down immediately after picking them up. Jesus, those things sure were heavy for being that small! He glanced over his shoulder, nervously hoping no one had seen him do that.
