In the ship's gym, May-Evergreen pumps iron. Hilariously, there's a redshirt in the background doing sit-ups on one of those huge inflated balls. He's trying hard to make it seem more manly by crossing his pumped arms over his chest as he sits up, but as far as I'm concerned he's in my living room doing sit-ups on my big silver ball while Suzanne Deason tells him to tuck his bellybutton into his pubis while he breathes from his toes. Reed stalks in and gets on a treadmill. May-Evergreen greets Reed as he continues to pump what look like boom boxes. Apparently, in the future, round barbells are déclassé. "Have you seen them yet?" Reed asks. "Ran into one of them in the corridor. They're really..." May-Evergreen pants and yelps as he finishes his set. Reed starts jogging and asks him what he's trying to do. "Get them outta my HEAD!" May-Evergreen grunts. "The pain helps." He picks up larger boom boxes and suggests Reed try it. Reed, already tired from his five seconds of running, stops the treadmill and joins May-Evergreen at the boom boxes. "When I was on my parents ship, we picked up some Deltans once. Their ship was having engine trouble," May-Evergreen shares. "I don't know that species," Reed says, starting to pump boom boxes. May-Evergreen drools on, "The females are UN-believably attractive!" And bald. May-Evergreen drops his boom boxes into their holder-thingies and explains, "I was fifteen. I couldn't think straight. I could barely breathe. The only thing that got me through it was weight training with my dad." You know, if he had just stopped with "weight training," I would have been fine. Happy, even. But then he added "with my dad" and I went to the scary place. May-Evergreen laughs gaspily at the memory: "He said if I was exhausted...idle hands and all that." Yes, because idle hands are the penises' playground. Reed asks if it helped. "Helped my biceps," May-Evergreen retorts. There's a joke in there about May-Evergreen and four seasons of no sex and ripped arms, but I'm too drunk to figure it out. Reed starts to pump with his pathetically small boom boxes. "I'd go heavier," May-Evergreen recommends.