[ 'A pleasure', he says. The smile on her lips edge wider, feeling a small splurge of pride hit her at the successful interaction. She can't believe she was even worried about this — talking to people is easy, even if their voices are exceedingly (stupidly) pleasant to listen to, hair so stylishly messy that she has to wonder if he even had to try to look this cute. Even if he looks effortlessly great in gym clothes (god, even his shoes are nice), of all things, and wow is she jealous?! ]

Good things! Promise. I know a guy who knows a guy who was trained by you, [ Because Ashley would never submit himself to a trainer!! But he's connected enough in the gym circuit to clue her in on these details, ] said you 'changed his perspective on burpees'?

[ It's said casually, a touch of playful speckled in. Because it's a little absurd, a little intriguing. Especially to someone who doesn't ever work out, just eats enough to keep her figure contained, counts calories rather than reps. She follows after him all the while, stopping when he does as he tends to a chair and sets it out for her. It's a beat after he says please (wow, are his manners great, she could learn a thing or two?) that she nods, sits with a posture that's just pretty enough to be conscious, slouched enough to be casual. ]

Thanks! And, no thanks. [ Although after she says this she is hit with #regret — would she have looked like a better client if she did get it?! ] I was actually worried about whether the coffee was okay to bring, so I'm glad it worked out.