It's also the perfect place to be seen if that's what you're looking for, the path filled with tourists and locals alike. Every now and then as we jog past, Alyssa huffing and puffing beside me, someone takes our picture or records us.
When we complete the loop around the lake, we decide to explore some of the trails leading off of it until Alyssa insists on having a break.
"Are you okay?" I ask her, hand on her back as she's leaning over and breathing hard. Luckily we're in a forested nook by the lagoon with plenty of privacy, if you don't count the rustling in the bushes. I'm assuming it's from raccoons and not the paps.
She looks up at me, sweaty and red-faced and nods. "Yes. Just. Trying. To. Survive."
"I can't believe I didn't bring any water, I don't know what I was thinking," I tell her. I'm fit as fuck thanks to my role, which has me working out harder than anyone should, but even so I rarely go trail-running without at least a Camel-Pak. "We'll just walk from now on."
"How about you just drag me along, that's much better," she says, taking in a deep breath and straightening up. "Jeez. I have extra admiration for those muscles of yours now." She gestures to them half-heartedly. "How many times did you almost die in order to get them?"
"Enough," I tell her. "But I was on the swim team in high school, so it's kind of ingrained in me."
A lazy smile teases her lips. "A swimmer. I can tell. No one can naturally have that chest and those shoulders."
I can't help but grin at the compliments. "How rare it is for you to say something nice. I must take you jogging more often, you're totally delirious."
She laughs. "Yeah, well, I call it as I see it. Your face and body are as gorgeous as they get. Too bad your personality doesn't match."
"Ha, ha," I say dryly. "Are you feeling better? On second thought, I'm not sure I should be in the woods with you at all, you might just off me when you catch your breath."
She shakes her head, smiling, and looks away. Then her face freezes in shock.
I turn to see what she's looking at.
It's a raccoon.
A three-legged raccoon to be more specific, looking up at us from the edge of the bush with big eyes.
"Oh my god," she says in a panicked whisper. "We should go. Now."
"Why? It's just Cyril Sneer."
She looks at me in confusion, her face scrunched comically. "Who?"
I gesture to the raccoon. "Cyril Sneer. You're not a real Canadian unless you've seen the cartoon The Raccoons. Actually, you're probably too young."
She takes a step closer to me, her eyes fixed on the raccoon again. "I've seen the show. But Cyril Sneer isn't a raccoon."
"Sure he is," I tell her. "And this is Cyril. He's the three-legged raccoon of Lost Lagoon. Hey. That rhymes."
"Uh huh. So you personally know this raccoon?"
I crouch down so that I'm at eye-level with him. Cyril takes a few awkward steps closer and tilts his head, eying me. "Sure do. He's friendly. I always feed him."
I stick my hand into shorts and bring out a small piece of beef jerky I was eating in the car earlier. I'm about to give it to him, knowing he'll come over and take it from me with his little human-like paws when I stick my hand up and give it to Alyssa.
"What is this?" she asks, peering at it.
"Beef jerky. He'll love it. Give it to him."
She raises her arm, about to throw it.
"No, feed him by hand."
She shakes her head. "I've had bad experiences with raccoons."
"But you've never met Cyril Sneer before."
"Emmett, for the last time, Cyril Sneer isn't a raccoon," she says, not breaking focus with the animal. "He was a pink aardvark on the show, and the raccoons' enemy. If you're going to name a three-legged raccoon after an iconic cartoon character, at least get the character right."
I'm trying to think if she's right or not. I remember the show's villain being a pink animal …
But as I'm pondering the names of the raccoons on the cartoon, Cyril is coming towards Alyssa.
"Give him the food," I tell her.
But Alyssa just grasps the jerky to her chest, totally frozen on the spot.
And Cyril is picking up speed, wobbling on three legs toward her, a crazy bloodlust in his eyes.
"Alyssa, throw it!"
"Ahhhhh," she yells as Cyril somehow leaps up into the air and starts clawing up Alyssa's body.
"Holy shit!" I jump up to my feet as Cyril claws at her bare arms and chest, trying to get to the jerky. What the fuck do I do?
"Ahhhhhhh!' she keeps screaming, trying to turn around. "Get it off, get if off, get it off!"
I look around for the nearest branch even though hitting a three-legged raccoon seems kind of cruel. Then again, I can't just let it mob her like this, what kind of man would I be?