The Looming Deadline

The next day Hank apologized, said he was tired of running too, and just totally cranky. Roc accepted because that's the kind of guy he is, but it stayed with him. He came home that weekend with a new idea.
"What are we doing Sunday?" He inquired while we settled into a late Friday night dinner out. This week: the local burger joint that only takes cash. Beer instead of wine. A nice change-up.
"Resting." I paused, took a swig of my (lite) beer and demolished an onion ring. "Why?" I gave him the wary eye.
"I was thinking about going into the Academy." He must have seen the look on my face, because he gave me his most reassuring grin. "They have a thing on the weekends where you can go in and practice the obstacle course when no one is there; that gym instructor I like said he's going to be there helping out. I think I should go and practice trying to get over the wall."
"Okay." I was a little upset about not spending time together, but I figured I could shelve it and continue on in support mode. "I think it's a good idea, especially if they see you there trying. I think that alone makes a difference."
"Will you come with me?" He grabbed the best french fry on the pile, the one I was eyeing.
"And do what?" I grabbed the other good one fast.
"Whatever. Just take the train in with me; I shouldn't be more than an hour or so; then maybe we can grab a bite together." He kept grabbing the fries I wanted.
"Hey!" I batted his hand away. It's not often that a fitness instructor gets to eat fries and onion rings and all that jazz. "I can go take a class."
I worked for a gym that is also a huge corporation, and they had locations all over NYC. I would go online and see if there was a class I could take while he practiced throwing himself over the wall.
It was a deal. I took the last onion ring before he even had a chance to notice.