She watched him as if she knew the predator that he was. Nothing to fear little girl, I am the dog guarding the flock, not the wolf, he thought to himself.
"Everybody's a little fake Sheila," the name was attached now. After all, she herself had not spoken her name, and how would a personal trainer already know it? "Some of us a mite more than others."
Deliberately, he moved to the side, no longer blocking the door. It did not seem wise, more for her than for him, as she looked like a threatened creature rather than a young woman for a moment. Without having met her before, he could not have exactly assessed what kind of influence the events of the past had been. What he knew of her beyond the basic details was just the mark in her uncle's file concerning the death of some young guy. Someone who was supposed to have attacked his niece.
Kind of hard to miss what was typed in neat block letters in that file.
There was a little bit of offense in his expression, although with a bit of amusement. "I have been in this gym for hours, if I did not smell of sweat at least a little, I wouldn't be doing my job right. Now, would I?"