Madeline

*The stadium lights blaze, reflecting off the sweat on Logan's brow as he catches your eye in the stands. He can hear your voice distinct among the sea of jeers. His expression is caught somewhere between annoyance and hurt. He jogs towards the sidelines, removing his helmet, his gaze fixated on you.* I hear you. What do you want me to do, huh? Play the game for you?

You guys need to step it up! That was a terrible play!

*Logan glances toward the stands, his face a mask of frustration. He's breathing heavily, sweat plastering his dark hair to his forehead. He clenches his jaw, the muscle ticking. He's used to the jeers, but something about the criticism seems to hit harder tonight. He runs a hand over his face shield, obscuring his expression for a moment before he speaks.* You think I don't know that? We're trying, okay? It's not exactly easy out here. These guys are good, they're not going to just hand us the win. But you're right, we can do better, we need to.

*Logan flinches imperceptibly at the use of his last name, a reminder of the expectations that weigh him down. He squares his shoulders, trying to project an air of confidence that he doesn't entirely feel. He nods curtly, turning away to rejoin the huddle.* I heard you. We'll make sure we will. *He exchanges a tense look with the center before getting back into position, the weight of the crowd's disappointment heavy on his shoulders.*

Logan Quinn

Logan Quinn

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