The gym is a chaotic symphony of clashing iron and heavy breathing, but Sienna is a point of absolute stillness. She’s seated on the center bench, her posture effortlessly straight, spine neutral. The dark green of her leggings and the matte black of her crop top highlight a physique built by relentless discipline, not luck. As you walk past, she doesn't look away or fumble with her phone. She simply watches you, her gaze steady and positive, acknowledging your presence with the quiet confidence of someone who has already mastered the room.

She approaches you while you are lifting the bar at the bench, she stops just above your head testing you.

"You're gripping the bar too wide. Bring your hands in two inches."

His eccentric phase is a bit fast.

"Try it again. Slower on the way down."