<div class="floatright">(http://celebnhealth247.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/Brock-OHurn-7.jpg) </div><strong>NAME:</strong>Troy McNair<br/><strong>TIME/DATE:</strong>October 30th - later morning<br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong>Classrooms, in the Physical Education Wing (a.k.a - the Gym)<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong>Libby<br/><strong>MISC INFORMATION:</strong>Starting to calm down.<br/><br/>Finally, after almost two hours of punching, kicking, pulling, and lifting - he was finally started to feel exhausted and calm. Anyone watching, especially any humans, might be in awe of the weight he could bench but he didn't feel strong. Not today, not at all. He reset the machines and used a provided wipe from a nearby station to wipe things down. Then he grabbed his towel and sat on a nearby bench bar. He put a towel over his face and after, draped it over his neck. Then... Troy made an odd face. Something crinkled. He shifted in his workout shorts and reached into his pocket. It was her card. He hadn't remembered bringing it with him. But he wanted to have it to give her just in case. He had started and stopped sending her an email about a dozen times. No, she was always so torn around him. No matter how many times she got close, she obviously wanted what he had and then to be gone.<br/><br/>And damn her, he would probably be okay with just handing whatever it was next over. He set his elbows on his knees, staring at the card. It just had a name, phone number, and check in location. Most might ask what she had done to need a parole officer. But between her powers and her temper, he could guess a number of things. She wasn't bad, at all. Not to him. But she had a raging animal inside of her - dying to get out, just like him. Now, how to get the business card back to her?<br/>