Beats per minute.

[maverick-blades.livejournal.com]

[The training room is occupied tonight, the mechanical sound of sneakers thumping against the belt of the treadmill and ragged, thick breath filling the space. There's a sweaty shirtless Rikka with headphones who managed to sneak out under the guise that he's hanging out elsewhere in the Dressing Room, has taken an Elixir or two for the energy boost, and is attempting to get his heart rate up after several reps of weight-lifting. He needs to get stronger faster, though he's quickly reaching his limit whether he knows it or not. It's fairly obvious that he doesn't, because he's peaked from that adrenaline high and is now just pushing himself to see how far he can go, adjusting the incline pattern and speed to the second highest setting. He totally needs some water and one of Dad's grilled burgers.]