"This is hopeless." Vesmore sighed as he flexed his arm in the mirror. The shirtless, young man looked at his lanky body and frowned, "I'll never get buff." He said in defeat as he sat down on his bed and put his face in his palms while his elbows rested on his thighs.
"What the hell are you babbling on about?" Asked Ayote as he strutted up to the young man.
Vesmore picked his face up from his palms and curled up his fists before he rested the bottom of his jaw on top of his fingers. "My body," said the young man, still frowning, as he stared off at one of the walls, "I really want to get buff like those strongmen I've seen in Miguel's magazines."
"Miguel?" The cat looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, "Who's that?"
"Huh?," he looked down at Ayote, "He's my birth father. I don't like to refer to him as my dad anymore."
