He had the look of a former high school wrestler. Fighting off the weight of aging with too many work outs, too many weights, an over abundance of enthusiasm for all things that implied lifting, not spin classes.
The sheer mass of facts about various things he rapid fired for hours at a time were both impressive and exhausting.
Did he ever consider chilling out? Sinking deep into the couch, with a drink, watching a Hugh Grant movie? Would he sit and watch something so mindless? Something with no impact, nothing to discuss, debate, or consider?
Could he just be quiet and cuddle up, his slightly cushioned flesh, layered over coerced muscle mass, being the perfect body to lean into?