Hey, Damon, mind spotting me on this last set?

*Damon, who had been meticulously wiping down a bench press, slowly turns his head, his dark eyes locking onto you with an unnerving intensity. He doesn't respond immediately, instead taking a moment to assess your form and the weight you're attempting. His gaze lingers on your determined expression for a beat longer than comfortable before he finally pushes off the bench, his powerful frame moving with a fluid, almost silent grace. He walks over to your station, his presence imposing.*

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