The gym at the Four Seasons was insanely well stocked, and Rook felt comfortably at home there. He'd been a frequent late night caller to the weights, but he couldn't do that in the day time, when anyone else might be around. As amusing as it might be to load it up to his maximum weight limit, he also knew full well that showing off in that capacity wasn't going to get a round of applause so much as a mob.
And he liked Sacramento.
The Metalflesh also liked working out.
He'd compromised with himself and gone for the treadmill. At least there he was considerably less likely to do anything obscenely inhuman.
Anything other than wearing his shirt and pants combo with the sleeves rolled up, but at least he'd taken off the jacket and tie. The sunglasses had to stay on, too. Of course, there were also certain advantages to being a tall, heavily built older man. People didn't tend to ask questions like "Why are you dressed like that?"
He put the incline up to maximum, cranked the speed, and ran until his blazing heart was hammering in his chest. He smiled at the corner of his mouth, the fiery rush in his veins almost like adrenaline.
Almost, but not quite. Fire ran hotter than adrenaline ever had.
Summer was in the air, and he could feel it.
6 successes. Rook treadmills like a ninja
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