Benjamin was sincerely grateful that he had managed to get some grub down his gullet after who knows how long by his lonesome in the unadorned solitary cell. It became clear that no food was coming after what Boyo, who actually had spent the first few hours counting down the seconds, then minutes, than hours, did not receive a visit in the form of the small slat on the door sliding open. So be it. If they weren't going to feed him, then they had no intentions of keeping him couped up for too long. It would be sooner rather than later that he was allowed to leave, and return to general population. When he realized this, he smiled softly, and decided to go through some exercises to get his blood pumping and keep his mind free and clear of so much as the potential for the boredom that had led to his stay in the small and surprisingly lit room. He started by facing away from the wall that would allow for the maximum clearance, and placed his hands palm down on the floor before raising his feet and planting them on the wall. He started doing push ups after his feet were a good yard above the concrete floor, quick as he could with his back straight. He could have easily continued beyond fifty but when he reached the fiftieth push up, he started in on doing sit ups. He continued alternating exercises in this fashion for a good long while, sweat beading and eventually dripping from his taunt, muscular frame. He had gone past that key point in the exercises where a weak individual would find the strain unbearable, had gone right passed it to that point where the ache had long since ascended past burning and transformed into a strangely comforting warmth, a blissful sense of utter strength that washed the weariness he should have felt out to sea and miles from his being. He could not see it, but his eyes were bright as stars and full as a harvest moon hanging low in the night sky. If he had seen someone looking the way he looked, he would have been wondering what they had done to make their eyes light up, why their pupils were so large, why they were sweating and on the verge of hyper-ventilating. Of course, he could not see himself. Nor did he care to. He was too busy enjoying one of the last freedoms afforded to a man left in his position, and that was the act of perfecting one's body, of eradicating the human weaknesses one could enjoy outside of prison, where being as wary as he was of everyone else would be considered paranoia, not common sense. He kept on this way until his limbs ceased to respond, and the rush of endorphins that had earlier flooded his body was spent. Then, he sat, and Boyo fought his breathing under control. When his pulse and breathing had regulated, he took off his slippers and slept with them for a pillow. There was no better way to kill time, and he was finally tired enough to do so.