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"And he cried while the police hauled him out?"

Grunting, I gave a firm nod. "Like a wife on a soap opera."

Cherry shook his muzzle in disbelief. "And to think I slept with that sicko..."

"At least, mfh!" I spoke, huffing as I went on to complete my final set, "he won't hurt...anybody anymore...Mfh!"

"I still feel dirty though, big guy, and not in the fun kind of dirty!" the ocelot complained while he sat on a corner stool, (half-eagerly) watching me do my afternoon workout. "I honestly can't believe Kendall was like that all this time...Certainly explains a few things, to be honest."

"I don't want, mfh, to know." I was ten reps away, feeling the sweat drench my fur and clothes like spring rain. "Mfh, that leaves one, mfh, down. And many to go...mfh!"

"Tell me about it," he mused solemnly, tail curling on his lap.

Earlier when I got back, I had Cherry sucking me off on the couch, though he visibly wanted to do more roleplay with me in the Minnesotan outfit. I'd told him no, saying I wanted enough energy to do my ritualistic workout. Now though, seeing him sitting there dejected and questioning the intentions of all the male furs he'd shared animalistic urges with all these years...it made me feel--

Goddammit, since when have I had a single fucking guilty conscious? My nihilistic mind screamed at itself.

Standing up from my bench, having finally finished my last set of the day, I carefully placed the two twenty-pound dumbbells on the nearby rack. Part of me made sure the horny feline would get a nice view of my sweaty short-clad rump and lush tail.

"If you want," I proposed, "we can watch one of those action movies you've been wanting me to watch? I got streaming, so whatever you think I'd enjoy, go for it? I just need to do my run on the treadmill and shower."

Like that, Cherry's eyes lit up like firecrackers, and he agreed.

I went on to run for thirty minutes soon after. As my legs exerted themselves and I grew lost in the motions of my workout, I imagined myself running somewhere outside. On the streets, in the middle of a woodland forest, or a foggy moor of Northern Ireland. Part of me wondered if I'd ever stop to see the scenery for more than a fleeting second, or enjoy the wind in my face, or if the experience in of itself required another soul to make it meaningful. God, I hadn't seen an Irish moor in so long...did they still exist?

Eventually, I finished half an hour later and got myself showered, then dressed shirtless in some dark green pajama bottoms. It was already nearing sundown, and apparently Cherry had also decided to put in a pizza, based on the delicious smells.

"Mushrooms?" I asked the ocelot, once I walked out of my bedroom. "And bacon?"

He sat on the couch wearing a pair of black pajama bottoms that matched the spots on his fur, though I could catch sight of the pink underwear of his peeking from his backside.

Cherry sheepishly replied, "What? I like that on them, okay? And besides, I thought it'd be nice to have some pizza for dinner."

"If I keep eating that crap, the workouts will be useless..." I grumbled, checking to see it half-cooked already. The ocelot had high metabolism, which explained his lithe body and ability to eat enormous quantities of food. Not that I was complaining, but still.

"Then don't eat it, alright?" he suggested.

Taking a sniff one more time, my stomach growled, and I muttered several curse words.

"Tomorrow, I'm going to cook us some good, healthy food for once..."

When the pizza finished cooking minutes later, I cautiously placed it on the kitchen top counter. Cherry took most of the slices while I settled on just two.

"Remind me to have you get us some popcorn for next time, alright?" the ocelot chuckled, licking his lips as he took a delicious bite. "Or is it too unhealthy for you, old wolf?"

I glared at the feline, who folded his ears at the sharp gaze. Then I shook my muzzle.

"Boy, I was born in 1982. I'm not even forty yet."

"Anyway," Cherry giggled before snuggling beside me, remote in paw, "I found the perfect action movie you'll like. You ever heard of 'Vice City'? It has assassins and prostitutes and serial killers galore."

I glanced with (minor) intrigue. "Hm."

"It's based on this comic book made by a crazy guy."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, but trust me," the ocelot smirked, "you might like it."

And for the most part, I did. The film was shot in black-and-white, with occasional objects and characters being in color. Occasionally, between the poetic dialogue and constant bloodshed, Cherry would mention each color's purpose. Blue represented corruption, green was evil, yellow was ranger and red was power. I didn't have much interest in symbolism, but I did pay attention to the struggles of each individual onscreen. Sure, the action scenes were beyond silly, but I could appreciate how 'awesome' it was.

Though I rarely use that term.

"So, who's your favorite character, Markus?" he asked halfway through the movie. "I have to go with Marv."

Marv was this big, hulking tiger who claimed to be so deformed, he couldn't even buy a woman in the crime-ridden and corrupt setting of Vice City. Yet one night, a blond vixen decided to give him the night of his life, only to be murdered the same night. And now, he had a purpose: to avenge her death and find the real killer.

"He reminds me of you, to be honest," Cherry commented, to which I raised a questioning eyebrow. "Except you're handsome and I'm not dead."

"And hopefully, this mystery will have a happy ending," I didn't reply.

When the credits rolled, Cherry stretched his arms and yawned before snuggling into my bare chest. I hesitated before wrapping an arm around him and yawning as well.

"Did you like the movie?"

"...it was nice."