"I've been slacking off on my workout routine for few weeks... months... years... *cough* decades."
— Greg Universe, Steven Universe, "Coach Steven"
Fifteen years past, when they had ridden forth to win a throne, the Lord of Storm's End had been clean-shaven, clear-eyed, and muscled like a maiden's fantasy. Six and a half feet tall, he towered over lesser men, and when he donned his armor and the great antlered helmet of his House, he became a veritable giant. He'd had a giant’s strength too, his weapon of choice a spiked iron warhammer that Ned could scarcely lift. In those days, the smell of leather and blood had clung to him like perfume.
Now it was perfume that clung to him like perfume, and he had a girth to match his height.
Now it was perfume that clung to him like perfume, and he had a girth to match his height.
Goofy: I was an all-around athlete.
Carface: Charlie! Oh, is it really you?
Charlie: Is it really me? Is it really you? Hey! You've put on a little weight! I told you to stay off those sweets.
Big Smoke: Yo Carl, it's Smoke.
CJ: Hey Smoke.
Big Smoke: Hey Carl, I don't mean no disrespect so don't take it like that. Uh, I gotta give you some advice.
CJ: What?
Big Smoke: The gym, my friend! You're letting yourself go.
Big Smoke: Hey look, Carl, I'm Big-Boned. But I'm still an athlete. You're letting yourself go, and to be honest with you, it's breaking my heart.
CJ: Gimme a break, I ain't as fat as you.
Big Smoke: I'm trying, I'm trying! And I'm trying to help you help yourself, my brother. The gym, Carl. You hear me?
CJ: Screw you, man.
