Lulu turned slowly, blinking. For a moment she watched Marcus cleaning all his man sweat from the machine as though he were partaking in some sort of alien ritual. Then she shook her head, giggling. Oh, he thinks I'm going to use that. Silly.
It crossed her mind to take this as a sign -- surely someone above wanted her to make an effort, develop recognizable muscles instead of limp noodle arms.
But no. No, Lulu's ancestors were soft too, which meant she could take pride in following their footsteps. She didn't need fitness to be confident. It's all right so long as I can take the stairs. Or sprint without killing myself.
"Oh no, I have got to. I don't even know how to use that machine," she admitted. "This is sort of what I do every time. I walk in, look at everything, and walk out again. Cos... I'm a weakling and I've got no resolve, actually. "
The words were joking in tone, punctuated with a sage nod. "You can keep on, if you were going to."