The gym closest to the LAW arena is a rather popular spot, and not just because it's a nice facility. It tends to get a lot of traffic by people hoping to just catch LAW talent off the clock, swarm them for autographs, or otherwise just gawk at them. As it happens, none of these things apply to the young dynamo, Blaise Cameron. He could blame it on being male in a female-dominated arena. He could blame it on his abysmal track record, though he's actually seen success - which he's quite proud of. But in fact, he doesn't chalk it up to anything; it scarcely even registers beyond the idea that sometime, someday, he'll be as popular as the folks who get swamped.
It does have a nice side-perk, though. He can proceed with workouts without the expectation that he'll by interrupted. And once he gets beyond the front room of the gym, the veritable roar outside of machines at work and intruders fawning over athletes, it's actually very quiet. He can work with that.
Blaise is wearing a pair of blue sneakers, fingerless gloves, single armband, and athletic capris to match. Normally one might add a shirt to the mix, but the blue tanktop he came in wearing has just been removed, folded over an arm, then promptly tossed aside, leaving his sleekly-toned upper-body exposed.
A large ring dominates the center of the room, but heck, he doesn't even see anyone present at this time - at least not on this side of the ring. Still, nothing warms him up like running the ropes. So the teen hops up onto the ring apron and slips between the ropes, making his way to its center to prepare.
