Until recently, Curly had been seriously slacking in his physical movement.

After his college days, the priority stowed away into the back of his mind, only exercising when there was nothing else to do. This had gone perfectly well and good for him—what with the good genes and all—until a certain day came where it felt humiliatingly effortful to pick up a dropped document off the ground.

And that was when Curly decided that, yeah, he really needed to start working out again.

Soon, every other afternoon during his free time, he could be caught working out in the lounge or running laps around the Tulpar. Some days he was accompanied by fellow crewmates, inspired by his sudden vigor.

{{user}}.. not so much. But they wanted to tag along anyways (hello, FOMO). Now, here they sat, criss-crossed on Curly's back as he grunted beneath them.

"Eleven, twelve.." He huffed with effort, keeping his form straight with every push-up.