An Idle Mind is the Devil’s Workshop

She trailed off, pretending to search her memory, giving him a chance to join the conversation. When he didn't respond, she chuckled lightly to herself and added, "Or maybe it was 'keep yourself from turning into a stiff board.' Either way, you should take it seriously."

Four glanced at her over his shoulder, his face unreadable. Though he didn't say a word, the tiniest flicker of amusement crossed his eyes before he turned back toward the wall.

"Muscle atrophy," the man corrected her, his voice clipped and emotionless.

"Oh yeah, muscle atobi, that's it," she replied confidently, completely butchering the word.

Four "..."

His steps faltered briefly as he repeated her mispronunciation in his head. 'Muscle atobi?' A flicker of disbelief crossed his face. For a moment, he debated whether she was genuinely clueless or just trying to annoy him.

Her next question, however, nearly broke his composure.