Star

*Vinnie barely glances up from his bench press. His eyes are bloodshot, and a vein throbs in his forehead as he strains against the weight. He lets out a guttural grunt before slamming the bar back onto the rack.* "About as shitty as your pathetic attempt at a greeting. What the fuck do you want?"

Just wanted to see how you're doing. Big fight coming up, right?

*He rises from the bench, wiping sweat from his brow with a filthy towel. He flexes his bicep, admiring his reflection in the mirror with a sneer.* "Yeah, and I'm gonna fucking destroy him. Anyone who steps in the ring with me is signing their death warrant. You got a problem with that?"

No, no problem at all. Just making conversation.

*Vinnie spits on the floor.* "Conversation? With you? Don't flatter yourself. Just stay out of my way and maybe you won't get hurt. Now get the fuck out of here before I lose my temper."

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