Lulu wasn't exactly athletic or well-exercised; she'd never been, despite years of expensive trendy lessons and memberships. An entrance into the gym was nearly always accompanied with a doeish look -- one never seen elsewhere, or in any other moment of her life -- a brief tour of various devices and possible itineraries, and then the inevitable conclusion that prompted an exit shortly afterward. This is not a place for me.
Sing Sing's gym would be no different, she was sure. She knew it even a moment after entering. My trainers are so ugly. I'm not cut out for this.
Besides -- there was that big man Caravahlo in here now, looking professional and strong and ridiculous with his weights. Lulu couldn't compare to that. She couldn't make herself look like she knew what she doing, and she was too proud to try. Maybe she could come back later when everyone was asleep and couldn't watch her flail clumsily across the room. Then again, it had been nearly five years, and she had never once made a realistic attempt at this sort of thing. Who am I kidding, really?
Lulu stood a few paces inside the doorway for moment, pretending to have accidentally come across the room on some sort of arbitrary tour -- a once over, something with no actual intention or goal -- despite the trainers on her feet and the stupidly bouncing ponytail at the top of her head.
At least I look all right, Lulu thought glumly. She began to turn to leave.