They didn’t, of course. He was strong but not superhuman. Which was the precise reason he was affected by the little scene that had just played out in front of him in the first place. If he’d been superhuman he’d have been able to ignore it. Adele had just left the pool before doing her usual thirty laps, and he didn’t blame her, not one bit. The skinny bitches that were still at the side of the pool opposite him had been so spiteful about her that he was surprised she hadn’t said something back. Her strength of character was obviously immense, as the poison those girls had been spouting was incredibly unpleasant and totally uncalled for. So Adele was a big girl. So fucking what? She was healthy and she was fit—what did it matter if she didn’t fit into society’s standard of what was an acceptable or attractive weight? He was sure, also, that if the trio of bitches weren’t so damn spiteful, then Adele would be happy too. She didn’t seem like someone who was obsessed with her weight or depressed about it.
