Haunting the gym seemed to have become a thing for Flick lately. He didn't consider that a bad thing because it meant he got exercise and got to spend some time beating the hell out of a heavy bag, which was always good for working out excess energy and any anger that he might be carrying around.

When he'd started coming down here, he'd gone with gloves to protect his hands but he'd stopped using those since it didn't feel right. He couldn't feel the vibrations of each blow shooting up his arm and settling in his shoulders and he couldn't feel the pleasurable pain that bloomed in each hand after he'd been going for awhile.

Flick was focused on the bag today, hitting it with blow after blow without any sort of pause or hesitation. The more he swung, the more he wished he would've done this to Gwendolyn or, better yet, Mandel. He was almost wishing he'd left with Gwendolyn on Sunday so he could go back home, face the other man and end the whole thing with his bare hands.

And that thought was kind of scary in a way. Flick figured if he did do that, he'd be fulfilling Mandel's prophecy and yet...he still wanted to do it.

[Open gym. Talk to Flick/use for your own gym-ly needs.]