"Now why should I do that, Venti?" Otis asked, arms folded across his chest. He had a smirk on his face which in Venti's opinion only added to his charm.

"Because you know you want to, and more importantly your ego wants the gratification," Venti replied, holding up the magazine with Otis on the cover. He was doing a double bicep flex, wearing a string tank top that did little to cover the expanse of muscle found on the otter's person.

"I dunno," Otis said, rubbing his chin. "I think they did some airbrushin' on my pecs."

"Maybe, but you're a cover guy now." Venti held up a pen beside the magazine. "Now are you going to sign this or do we have to arm wrestle? Winner buys the loser sushi."

Otis took the magazine and pen. "That's temptin', but I'm tryin' to save up some money for a trip back home. So no wrestlin'." He placed the magazine up against a locker door, giving a quick flourish with the pen. "Silver ink?"

"The gold's gonna be for when you ask for my autograph."

Otis handed the magazine and pen back to Venti with a tilt of his head and a sidelong grin. "Who says I'm going to be an autograph hound?"

"You'll be in the doghouse if you don't."

Otis laughed, opening his locker to retrieve his workout clothes. "You know, it's more flatterin' when they ask for your autograph, not the other way around."

"This is true, but I was never one to be subtle about that stuff."

Otis arched an eyebrow as he put on his tank top. "You mean you've been asked for an autograph before?"

"Plenty of times."

The grin of Venti's muzzle gave Otis cause for suspicion. "Such as?" he asked.

"Well, there was one time I paid for a video game with a credit card, and they asked for my signature. I figure it's the same thing. They wanted my autograph."

Otis rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Venti, you are without any doubt, the biggest goober in this gym."

"No doubt, my little young friend."

"Oh that tears it, old man. You and me, bench press competition!"

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