Poahi liked the sense of brotherhood that came from working out together. He lifted weights wordlessly. The other bouncers did the same. Poahi liked that. They lifted with a rhythm, he thought, and without even trying, they formed a percussive symphony.
By the time he finished his reps, Poahi was jazzed up, and he jumped to his feet off the bench press. The percussive chorus of clacking weights and heaving grunts continued without him. His big round face was crestfallen that nobody paid attention. Nobody felt the same way he did. Nobody heard that symphony but him.
From Poahi the Lackey