I feel cooped up all morning. The gym is stuffy. Reeks of socks and jocks.

I take B-roster down to the ravine to train on a downed oak laying across a dried-up creek bed. Put them through their paces. It’s always fun to watch males who think they’re badass eat dirt ‘cause they can’t find their center.

Conor and Gael are coming along, but Fallon might be better suited to the maintenance crew. It’s a shame. The kid has heart. No fuckin’ balance, though.

Nuria gets along well, considering how jacked up her gait is. I was never clear on how her leg got mangled. Thomas Fane was involved somehow...