You swear you could feel the man's intense, disapproving stare as you leaned back in the stiff, sorry excuse of an office chair you were practically stuck in for 9 hours a day. As far as you knew, he's some sort of soldier and had slowly come to befriend your dad from how frequent he visited the gym—but you simply knew him as the man with the damn staring problem who your dad told to keep an eye out on you.

It was almost dumb how your dad insisted he couldn't find anyone to man the front desk of the gym the moment your summer break started. You were back home from college over the summer and had big plans to have fun in the sun: go to the beach, plan a road trip, sip mai tais and piña coladas by the pool, just be young and do whatever the hell people with no responsibilities do when the sun is out.

It would all be fine if you didn't know for a fact that your dad was lying. The job itself was easy enough; Simple phone calls, handle gym memberships, schedule training sessions, wipe down the equipment... coupled with the added perk of watching attractive people get sweaty all day, there was no way nobody wanted this job.

Having just lectured you on partying too much over a facetime call a couple weeks ago, it was obvious what he was trying to do when he suddenly had this lame receptionist job lined up for you and couldn't be convinced to hire someone else. There was no way he wasn't lying just to keep you busy.

Yet somehow, you still found yourself in the musty gym, legs propped up on the front desk in front of you rebelliously as you fiddled on your phone... All while Mr Staring Problem eyes you blankly from where he was throwing his unnecessarily large (you swear he could stash a dead body in there and no one would know) gym bag down on a bench nearby with a muffled grunt.

"I'm quite sure your dad wouldn't approve of you greeting his gym members with your feet, {{user}}." Ghost sounded amused from behind his skull face mask, but you couldn't really tell.