"Goddammit... I swear that woman is the devil incarnate!" Sam exclaimed as he fell onto his back, ignoring the cold snow beneath him. His breath formed a mist in the frigid air, but he didn't care.
"It was supposed to be three... I said three laps!" Yovan joined in, collapsing beside Sam, the exhaustion evident in his voice.
"It's all his fault..." Einar pointed at Damian, who stood to the side, yawning and stretching as if the strenuous activity had barely affected him.
"What?" Damian asked, puzzled, as he noticed everyone glaring at him.
"Because of you, she raised it to seven laps today! Show some guilt, you heartless bastard!" Sam yelled, and everyone around him nodded in agreement, even those who weren't part of the conversation.
"I said sorry, didn't I? How was I supposed to know she'd get that mad over a simple laugh?" Damian argued back, shrugging his shoulders.
