Deirdre had eaten a small dinner and then rushed out of the apartment without much of an explanation as to where she was going. She’d closed the door behind her before Artie had finished speaking and then rushed down the hall and down the stairs, her bag over her shoulder as usual. She had worn yoga pants and a tank top to the gym rather than taking extra clothes to change in and out of, figuring that that was more trouble than it was worth.
She’d felt herself growing more and more frustrated with her current situation – lacking a good friend to tell her thoughts to – and was doing her best not to blame Artie’s state on him. He couldn’t help it, and she tried to remind herself that whenever she felt resentment for him begin to build up.
She’d spent a good while on a treadmill and had moved to a punching bag, throwing vicious jabs at it and occasionally swinging her leg to land a good kick on the side, when she heard someone clear their throat next to her. Deirdre hadn’t expected anyone to want to talk to her much, and despite the fact that she wasn’t much of a sweater, she couldn’t help but immediately realize how she looked as she turned to face the man watching her. She pushed the strands of blonde hair that had fallen out of her bun back frantically. “Lookin’ for a chinwag, are ye?” she asked, biting her lip after. “Sorry, ahm… D'you need somethin’?”