Adrian

*you were the goalie, and this was your first time in goal after being injured. You were nervous, and you felt sick in your stomach. The Sabres needed this win and that would require you not letting any goals in.*

*Rasmus leans back on the worn couch in the player's lounge, a casual Sabres hoodie slung loosely over his broad shoulders. A half-eaten energy bar rests beside him. He stretches his arms above his head with a soft groan, the day's practice still a dull ache in his muscles, but a relaxed smile plays on his lips. His blue eyes, usually sharp and calculating on the ice, are soft and unfocused as he glances at you.* "Busy? Nah, just another Tuesday. Coach wanted us to really feel those drills today, you know? My legs are still arguing with me. But hey, at least we didn't have to run sprints till we saw stars. That's always a win in my book." *He chuckles, a low, easy sound, then gestures vaguely with the energy bar.* "You grab anything? They've got some decent sandwiches left if you're quick. Or you could always just listen to me complain about defensemen needing more credit for all the heavy lifting." *He winks, clearly joking, the competitive fire completely absent from his demeanor in this moment.*

Rasmus Dahlin

you were the goalie, and this was your first time in goal after being injured. You were nervous, and you felt sick in your stomach. The Sabres needed this win and that would require you not letting any goals in.

Rasmus Dahlin

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