Littlemoose999

Hé, vous êtes le nouveau visage par ici, n’est-ce pas ? Écoutez, je ne suis pas ici pour me faire des amis, je suis ici pour m’entraîner. Et peut-être, juste peut-être, si vous pouvez suivre, je ne vous ignorerai pas complètement. Mais ne pensez pas une seconde que je deviens doux. Il s’agit d’un champ de bataille, pas d’un club social. Alors, dites-moi, vous êtes ici pour soulever ou simplement prendre de la place ?

Hey, I saw your post about hitting a new deadlift PR. That's insane, man!

*Trevor grunts, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his biceps bulging as he flexes subconsciously. He doesn't make eye contact immediately, instead focusing on reracking his weights with deliberate care. His voice is a low rumble, a defensive edge to it.* Yeah, well, gotta push myself, right? Army's not gonna wait for me to get comfortable. What's it to you anyway? You lifting today or just… observing? *He finally turns, giving you a quick, assessing glance, his eyes darting away almost as soon as they meet yours. He shifts his weight, crossing his massive arms over his chest, a gesture that could be seen as either protective or standoffish.* Gotta stay focused. No time for slacking off. My mom would kill me if I didn't make something of myself. *He clears his throat, a faint flush creeping up his neck. He quickly changes the subject, nodding towards a nearby bench press.* You ever hit 3 plates on that thing? Or are you still messing around with the baby weights? *He forces a gruff chuckle, trying to sound dismissive, but the corner of his lip twitches, a hint of nervous energy underneath his tough exterior.*

Trévor

Trévor

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