Survival Of The Fittest

Manuel stared a bit. The inward laugh he'd been expecting turned into some sad nondescript noise of the psyche. He looked down at Meggy the way a farmer looks at an animal he was about to put down. This was the cop of the future?

"...Dude."

He tried to clear his head of thoughts of pity and pissed-off-ness as rapidly as he handed the bottle down to Meggy. Ah, well, he had a shake back in his gym bag. He just hoped Meggy would leave enough for the break after their next exercise.

"Hope your arms're all rested up- we're goin' back to the 'bells." he nodded over towards a bench and the item of pressing which laid above it. "...Down a few weights this time, though."

Meghan just grabbed the water and took a sip from it, mentally kicking herself down for her stupidity. What is wrong with her these last few days??


Maybe I got a brain tumor.

She sighs as she handed Manuel his water, and walks over to the bench “Yeah, makes uh, makes sense. What are you thinking? 15 pounds?”

"Actually..."

He mused, making his way over to the bench and setting the barbell with some smaller weights. Again, it was child's play; everything got done literally single-handedly. Soon, there was a barbell over the bench with 10 pounds worth on it. He turned back to Meggy and smiled, reactivating coach mode.

"...A better thing to do for beginners is less weight, more reps. Two sets of fifteen."

Again, he could totally just do his own later. In the meantime, he moved around behind the bench, looming right over it, like some sort of gym guardian deity.

"And I'll be right here making sure nothin' goes wrong, alright?"

Meghan sighed a little. Ten pounds. Not the best, but she understands. She sat upon the bench, laying back down and looking up towards Manuel, still flushed but nodding “Alright, I trust the weightlifting expert, here!” She took a deep breath, placing her hands on the barbell.

Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die.

Looking down at Meggy, Manuel gave her his most encouraging smile and nodded, before returning to a state of genuine focus. If you're spotting pay attention. Seriously. At this point, it wouldn't have mattered at all whether someone was watching; this is the kind of thing you universally lock in for. He speaks out to her, his voice low and heartening.

"Come on. You got this. You got this."

Meghan’s confidence boosted up suddenly by his reassuring smile and words. She can do this. She’s got this. She’s got this.

With a push up, she got the barbell off the rack, and she carefully lifted it “Ngh…one!”

This felt better, as if it wasn’t a whole crushing weight down onto her. She paused before she slowly pulled the barbell and pushed it upwards again “Two!”

Holy shit! Two! Two!

"Come on. Arch that back. Breathe in when you lower it, out when you lift it."

Now this was it. A bit of a rush was starting to build up inside Manuel, honed down to a focus as he gently kept his hands just out of the grasp of the barbell. Lock it in. Lock it in. A mantra repeated in his head both to himself, and to Meggy, as if she could read his thoughts. 13 left. She had this in the bag.

Meghan nodded, focused on the large metal stick in front of her. She could tell Manuel is trying to tell her something, like some sort of mantra, but she couldn’t read his mind so she went with what she think he’s saying: Don’t die you stupid bitch or I’ll take the fall for it.

She breathed in as she lowered it, breathed out when she lifted. 12. 11. 10. 9. Meggy could feel her arms starting to get sore.

And Manuel could see it. Always the earlier bits of the set when adrenaline hadn't started beating your heart in. For now, his brow furrowed, determined. He had a goal well in mind beyond his own wants right now, and it was getting this woman through her bench presses.

"Vamos, push it! Almost halfway there, you'll make it."

Bit of a louder and more encouraging tone, now. Looming machine of motivation. Continued loop of excitement-focus, oh he was getting into it as she was.

"I'll make it!" Meghan breathed in as she lowered the barbell, feeling sweat drift down her hair.

She lifted it up again. 8. 7. 6.

You can do this, DO this! DO THIS!

5. 4. 3. 2.

Meghan lowers the barbell once more, her arms trembling a little as she struggled to balance, before she suddenly lifted it up "ONE!"

The struggle was real. The burn was real. Manuel could feel it as if he was exactly in Meggy's position. Empath shit. Spotters have that ability. As Meggy lowered the barbell for the final rep, he maintained his preparation to catch the barbell and continued speaking.

"Come on. Come on! PUSH!"

Manuel's tone was some bewildered mixture of focus and excitement and encouragement, and its volume varied around Meggy's when she'd called out the final stretch. Wide eyes, wide grin, all simultaneously more serious than ever. Here we go, baby.

"You can do it! Put your heart into it, LIFT! There, a bit more!"

Meghan felt her blood pumping. her mind racing. she could do it. She could do it. SHE COULD DO IT!

"AND-" With all her might, Meghan gave one last lift up of the barbell "THERE WE GOO!!!"

She did it. She felt like a million bucks! SHE DID I-

Aw crap she felt a cramp. Meghan's arms immediately shook, as if she was about to drop the barbell "Grab it. GRAB IT!"

"HELL YEAAAH!"

He cheered out for her. Rock and fuckin' roll, this was. Good on her. Infinite good. ...Just until she becomes a cop, though. But for now, it was all good times. Times so good he only realised his arms were lifted up in celebration and he'd broken holy spotter law when Meggy called her out oh God mierda mierda mierda-

"-AAHhhhOHshitigotchu."

Just as quick as they'd been raised, he brought his arms back down and clutched the barbell in his hands, easily lifting the weight off the poor girl's arms and onto its proper place above the bench. His breath came short and fast, and his eyes turned back towards Meggy.

Meghan's arms fell to her side, in a sweaty mess while panting. She released a laugh, sore on her arms before and sits up and cracks her back "WOO! That was good!" She laughed "I DID A BENCH PRESS! WOOO!"

Massive grin. Let's-fucking-go type, type wrought from commemoration, occurring or imminent. She really did it, and he'd really helped. God that felt good. He began to quip:

"Nah, man."

Esoteric technique: Mañana Celebratory Back Slap

"You did fifteen! WHOOO!"

He cackled out loud in a voice that was just near booming. The whole room felt lit up with an energy that was lighter than air. He could probably jump so good right now.