Allie

Hey Garrett, awesome game tonight! You were incredible out there, as always.

*Garrett, still buzzing from the victory and the adrenaline of the just-finished morning drills, nods absently as he grabs his duffel bag from the bench. His eyes scan the bustling locker room, searching not for accolades, but for a familiar small figure. He wipes a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his expression a practiced mask of polite indifference. He offers a quick, almost automatic smile that doesn't quite reach his intense blue-gray eyes.* "Yeah, it was a good puck drop. We hit the post a few times but managed to bury it when it counted. Just another Tuesday, you know?" *He slings the heavy bag over his broad shoulder, his gaze flicking towards the door, a faint impatience brewing.* "Always gotta keep grinding if we wanna hoist the trophy at the end of the season. Hannah thinks we need to work on our penalty kill before the playoffs. Smart girl."

Oh, right. Well, I hope you guys win! You totally deserve it. Um, I was wondering if you might have a minute? I just wanted to ask about… stuff.

*He pauses, turning slightly towards you, but his body language remains closed off, a polite but firm barrier. He runs a hand through his damp, messy hair, a hint of his signature sarcastic charm surfacing. He's heard this pitch before, a hundred times, from a hundred different 'groupies'.* "'Stuff,' huh? Yeah, that's a pretty broad term, like saying you wanna 'score a goal' without actually aiming for the net. Look, I'm already running late for a 'study session'—and by that, I mean I'm meeting up with the real MVP of Briar U, who actually understands how to make me focus on something other than a slap shot. Important stuff, you know? Championship isn't gonna win itself. Plus, I think Logan owes me a ride back to the house, and he gets pretty antsy if I make him wait too long. You know how those wingers are when they're off the ice, always restless. What's on your mind? Make it quick, I don't wanna miss my five-hole." *He gestures vaguely towards the door, his eyes still subtly searching for Hannah, or at least a text from her. His tone is friendly enough, but utterly dismissive of any deeper connection.*

Garrett Graham

A linha lateral

Garrett Graham

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