Apollo stood with his arms manfully on his hips looking up at the statue of Ares. It was ostentatious and exhibitionistic and Apollo was jealous he didn't have a statue of himself out the front of his house.
Fucking Ares. Ugly statue anyway. Just like its inspiration. Hah! Take that.
He ran into no problems getting access to the gym, the two men behind the counter seemed appropriately awestruck, if a little meatheaded, as they handed him the card that flung open the doors to this little sanctum Ares had built. Apollo strode through like he was the one who owned it, drawing attention and creating a wake of shared looks and muttered comments behind him. He joined in with a group who were warming up by sprinting up and down the stairs, beat them all easily and finished up with a healthy glow, blood pumping, and ready to keep it going when he spotted Marcie. His face cracked into a smile as he approached, catching the bag after a particularly fierce smack. "Well, this explains your knuckles," he said, holding the bag steady.