2019-10-27 - 10,000 Steps

Among those getting their cardio in on this brisk October afternoon is Cassidy. She walks at a leisurely pace on the treadmill while scrolling on her phone. In the cup holder of the machine is a giant iced coffee.

Cassidy's blonde hair is pulled back into a loose messy pony. She's decked out in athletic gear more expensive than she needed and unnecessary for her 'brand' of working out. It's a pink racerback sports bra with a loose black athletic shirt draped over it, tight black capri workout leggings and purple trainers.

Rolling in to the gym, Tyrone usually gets a look or three from people as he goes by. The tank top he's wearing shows off arms that might be considered a little impressive on a regular person, but most people aren't as surprised to see them on a guy in a wheelchair. He stops at an arm-cycle which happens to be next to the treadmill Cassidy is on. He leans down and adjusts the seat forward a little ways and then proceeds to transfer onto the seat and then move his legs into position, a process which takes the better part of a couple minutes.

Cassidy reaches for her iced coffee cup and takes a sip. The straw slides out of her mouth and accidentally flings some coffee drops off in Tyrone's direction.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" she says when that happens and she places the cup back in the holder.

Flying spittle is definitely a quick way to get on Tyrone's angry side. However, as he quickly whips his head over towards Cassidy and sees her dealing with the straw, and the fact that she apologizes so quickly, serve to ease the angry glare back to a friendly smile in short order. "No worries, shawty," he says, finally settling on the seat. "But ... you go'n get a whole lot more from your workout if you drinking something better than coffee."

"Oh yeah?" Cassidy asks in a manner that suggests he may continue to speak at her, but she might not actually be listening, for she's locked her attention firmly back onto her phone as she strooollllsss on the treadmill.

When Cassidy turns her attention back to her phone and immediately appears ready to tune him out, Tyrone just chuckles and shrugs and boops some buttons on the arm-bike. Then, he starts cycling, going much faster than a stroll. If Cassidy looks at his display, it'll show that, once he gets up to speed, he's going almost five miles per hour.

After about 30 seconds of Instagram scrolling Cassidy looks over to Tyrone. "Well? You were saying?"

The blonde moves her eyes back to her phone and mutters, "I'm listening."

When Cassidy addresses him, Tyrone blinks in surprise. He was working pretty hard at the cycle, so he has to slow down to respond to her, though he doesn't come to a stop. "I didn't really have anything else to add. I mean, it's not really any of my business or anything. You can do you, it's your workout. Wasn't tryin'a hate."

"Well, what do you drink to get your ... piston arms? Or whatever." Cassidy asks, looking at the man on that arm machine. She reaches for the coffee and takes a sip as an eyebrow raises.

"Water, mostly. Sometimes I put protein supplement in it," Tyrone responds, shrugging. "I'm not into all that pre-workout, mid-workout, post-workout, creatine, meal bar crap. I'm not tryin'a hulk out or anything. Just tryin'a be better than I was yesterday." He offers Cassidy a friendly smile. Then, he lets go of the pedals with one hand and holds out his fist in Cassidy's direction. "I'm Tyrone," he offers.

"Cassidy." She extends her fist and gives his a knock. She doesn't take the extra step to explode away, however, because they aren't that tight yet.

"It's basically water," she says of her coffee. She hangs up her phone in the little holster they attach to the treadmill machines these days. She's strolling slow enough on that thing that she can reach back to grab the tie out of her hair and recollect it into a tighter ponytail.

Tyrone shrugs again as he goes back to cycling. "Like I said, not my place to judge at all. It's your thang, do what you wanna do," he says. He also can't tell you who to sock it to. "... since we talkin' bout it, anyway ... you workin' on anything in particular at the gym? Or just showin' off?"

"I'm supposed to do 10,000 steps a day." Because Cassidy read that in Cosmo or something, once. Or maybe it was YouTube fitness.

There's a smirk on Tyrone's face as he replies, "So showin' off."

"What?" Cassidy's brow squinches together as she looks over and down to Tyrone. "How? I'm just supposed to do 10000 steps a day to stay, like, healthy or whatever." This is totally a thing.

Tyrone chuckles and shakes his head. "Nevermind, shawty. It's all good," he says. Sometimes it's best to NOT share cripple jokes with people you just met. "Like I said, you do you. Not judging you at all. Do you have a desk job or something, so you can't get steps in at work at all?"

"I get some steps in at work." Cassidy says with a little shake of her head. "But 10,000 is, like, a /lot/ of steps." She blows out an exhale. "It's a desk job some times. Some times it's not." She shrugs.

"Ah. Yeah ... I can honestly say I have no idea what it takes to get in a thousand steps," Tyrone says, candidly, shrugging his shoulders. "You know, you could get them in quicker if you ... you know ... jogged? I mean, you're /dressed/ to deal with sweat, so ...."

"TEN thousand," Cassidy corrects. She looks at Tyrone like he is a weird thing when he suggests jogging.

"Sometimes I run and some times I just like to walk, okay?" She blows out a breath and grabs her phone again.

There's a rueful chuckle and Tyrone nods. "Yeah, that either," he adds. "And like I said, I wasn't judgin', I was just sayin'. You do you, shawty. I'm just an observer." Tyrone smiles to himself as she picks her phone up again. Definitely /not/ one of his better attempts at getting to know and get along with the locals.

"Why do you keep calling me shorty? Are you, like, T-Pain's cousin or something?" Cassidy isn't particularly caustic with her sass. It comes out like she considers it a legitimate topic of discussion.

Tyrone considers her question honestly for a second, then shrugs. "Because we haven't gotten to know each other well enough for me to give you a nickname yet and I ain't tryin'a wear your name out? I can stop, if it bothers you," he finally answers.

"Most people call me Cass." She says, re-holstering her phone. She adjusts the speed to be .1 mph faster. "I work in the District Attorney's office."

"Cool, Cass. I'll keep that in mind," Tyrone says. And then the screen dings and starts flashing, indicating he's reached the desired milestone. "Well, I'm gonnna go lift, so ... mind if I beg my leave of you?"

"Okay. Have a good workout. Byeee." Cassidy drawls as she reaches for her phone to tune out once again.