& ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ʷᵃʸ ᵒᵘᵗ ⁱˢ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ

𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐙 𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐗-𝐀𝐋𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐙. 21. kings' defenseman.

[pcssessicn]

natesfm​:

nate looks at the item in his neighbor’s hand and frowns. a hockey stick with a hole in the blade. he wouldn’t consider himself an expert or anything, but he has seen the mighty ducks, and nate knows for a fact that no one in that movie was playing with a holey stick. “uh …” he reached for one and studied it up close. feels nothing like holding a bat, he decides. “ … what’s the point of the hole? won’t it just get taped right over?” he mimics fitz, flipping the stick around and peering at him through the unique cutout. “it doesn’t even look cool.“ his instincts scream at him, fighting to hold the object in his hands like a bat even though he can feel that the length and weight are off. nate tucks the wide end of the stick beneath his chin and suppresses a fleeting grimace. “are you thinking about buying one?”

-

          fitz is fairly certain nate doesn't really want the whole long technical explanation that bauer sent out when they revealed the damn thing, so DESPERATE to get at least one professional player to listen to them. as far as he knows, they've still be unsuccessful.     " lets them like, get more properties in the blade : top is stiffer, bottom more flexible, "     he settles on somewhat simply, not that he really cares about accidentally boring nate to death over hockey stick nuances. counting on it actually, maybe.     " more useful for goalscorers, now that i think about it. "     which, offensive defenseman he might be, but the bulk of those were grade a assists, not the GOALS themselves. he flips the stick back around, right side down, the bottom skimming just over the concrete floor. yeah, it probably wouldn't be too hot with a slapshot. he shrugs,     " probably not, but i was curious how it felt. the other benefit was to make it lighter, but not really ENOUGH difference to take the risk, y'know ?? "     with that, he carefully places the stick back on it rack, fingers skimming over over shafts until he reaches his TYPICAL order.

[pcssessicn]

renanlem​:

           renan turns his head at the sound of the approaching person, the heels confirming it’s most likely a woman sending fitz into a state of PARANOIA — alright, he can work with that. he begins to stand up once given the blessing to distract, but then pauses midway and squats back down, placing a hand on fitz’s shoulder to steady himself. “ thank me later, ” he whispers, giving fitz a faint smile that could almost come across as reassuring if renan had learned the appropriate time to shut his mouth and leave. “ there’s this coffee shop, like, two blocks from here, it’s tucked between a psychic bookstore and this gay mural — anyways, meet me there in, like, thirty minutes, okay? you owe me. ” renan stands up again as he ceases his rambling, running a hand over his hair in an effort to make himself look less dorky. without a mirror and product, it’s mostly futile, but his clueless french tourist act should still be enough to draw the girl away in the opposite direction. 

-

         " fine— "     the hushed sounds drops annoyed from his lips, but fitz knows he's not really in the position to be bargaining here. he's mostly just relieved now, watching renan leave their hiding place though another part of him severely doubts his chances of getting out of here have improved by much. but fitz is mercifully proven wrong this time as five minutes later he's back out on the crowded street unscathed physically and emotionally, disappearing back into an anonymous face only like 0.1% of the city recognizes. the cafe is easy enough to spot, and after ordering something with too many empty calories because he deserves it after this whole thing, he retreats to the back corner where he has his back to the wall and a full unobstructed view of the place. renan is easy enough to spot when he arrives. fitz doesn't exactly look happy about it ( regardless of stalker distraction factor or not, there is decorum ) but his face is trending more toward neutral than pissed off which is a pretty good improvement.     “ you made it out after all, ”     the plate with some pastry on it rattles as he pushes it across the table,     " the barista with a crush on you said you liked that one so — hope that’s true. "

[pcssessicn]

dariaftw​:

“he -” eyebrows immediately shot up when the very practiced dialogue begins, leaning into their hip with their arms cross. she hardly blames him for the abruptness - she’s already had her far share of solicitors try to scam them out of one thing or another. she puts on an exaggerated, faux frown hands slamming into a prayer position as brows furrow. “oh gosh, oh geez, mista! i’m just tryna raise money for my church! we’re tryna have reyna alvarez speak to us about jesus!” the voice is high pitched and mocking, daria’s head tilting to the side. she drops her arms and makes herself look at him dead in the eye. “i live a few houses down and i threw a toy for my dog. no one else has it. it’s a giant ass kong that’s the size of a small baby. bright purple. can’t miss it. is it in your yard?”

          fitz, if possible, scowls harder at that.     " no, "     he says shortly, though honestly, he hasn't got a clue. it's not like he's really looked in his backyard today, only an hour removed from a trip to the practice rink downtown. he'd taken a puck high on his inner thigh during the impromptu scrimmage, the resulting now bruise blooming garishly out of sight under his towel. that doesn't really explain his mood, but it maybe contributes to like thirty percent of it. another moment passes where it's unsure if he's just going to slam the door in their face or not. another moment and he goes with not. the scowl recedes slightly. slightly.     " you can go look though, if it's that important. "

[pcssessicn]

natesfm​:

it was supposed to be a quick errand. he replaces practice equipment the moment that it begins to show signs of aging or overuse, so he goes to the local ( upscale, although he’s not as mesmerized by the sheer size and selection carried there anymore ) sporting goods store every few weeks or so. nate has the layout memorized, so he doesn’t need to pause and figure out which direction to take when he walks in. the baseball equipment is at the furthest end of the store from the customer entrance. it only takes him a few minutes to find what he’s looking for. he starts towards the register with arms full of items soon - to - be purchased, but almost dropped everything when he caught a glimpse of a familiar face in one of the aisles. “hey,” nate greeted his neighbor with a nod. “what’re you looking for?” / @pcssessicn​

-

          ever since bauer made that fucking stick with a hole in the blade for the sake of shaving off an ounce off the weight or whatever, fitz had both laughed at it and been morbidly CURIOUS. how much difference could it really make ?? plenty parts of a stick were customizable, but beyond the curve, the blade has remained relatively UNTOUCHED. he knew he could probably just get them to send him one ( brand new bauer athlete ambassador and all — they were already in the process of making his skates ), but he’s in the void of a sports store just to grab some more stick tape and what do you know, they have one of those fuckers. he leaves his rolls of black stick tape in a neat stack on the floor, reaching up to retrieve the offending stick. gaze flits unimpressive to his company, but lucky for nate, fitz has more polarizing opinions on hand. he flips the stick over so the blade is sticking up, grey eyes peering through the oblong cutout at his annoying neighbor.      “ i still can’t decide if it’s GENIUS or fucking STUPID. ”

[pcssessicn]

👹🌺👧

𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄: a memory of a nightmare + a happy memory + a teen memory

          water crashes over his head. suffocating cold darkness presses in all around him in unyielding torrents, begging his lungs just to yield ( just give up ). his hands stretch out to touch something, anything, but water just rushes between his fingers, intangible, the very thing needed to stay alive that can kill you just as quickly. he’s so very alone in this vastness 

                               ( alone is all he’ll ever be — why deny it ?? ).

          it feels like relief when he lets water into his lungs — somewhere else it feels like giving up. the liquid feels cold as it creeps into where it shouldn’t be. we all die ALONE— 

          “ SHIT — “     his eyes fly open to take in the darkened ceiling of the hotel room they’re in. the garish glow from the street filters in where the curtains hadn’t been pulled all the way shut across the windows, softening the darkness to a dull gray instead of the all-consuming blackness of his dream. the sheets are crumpled at the foot of the bed, kicked off some point between his falling asleep and now. he sighs, a hand dragged tiredly over his face. his heart still pounds relentlessly against his ribs, too fast to hope to get to sleep any time soon. frankly, he’s not sure he WANTS to sleep any time soon despite the exhaustion tugging at his limbs.

          there’s a rustle from the other side of the room, a sleepy groan and then, “ the fuck, fitzy ?? ”

          “ sorry. ” fitz winces, near inaudible. he hadn’t meant to wake xavier. not when they both have an afternoon game tomorrow and an english paper to somehow pull out of their asses on the bus ride home. at least one of them should be getting sleep. “ i — just — it’s nothing. ”

          there’s something like a grunt in response and then nothing. fitz rolls over onto his side, eyes still open as he stares at the red blinking dots on the alarm clock as if will hypnotize him into sleep. it doesn’t work even after fifteen minutes have ticked slowly by. he rolls onto his back again, watches shadows and light play across the stucco ceiling as a car slowly rumbles by.

          “ you’re still not asleep, are you ?? ” xavier voice sounds loud in the quiet room a few minutes later.

          “ maybe i was just about to, ” fitz counters automatically. a beat pauses, somewhere far down the hall the elevator dings. “ no, ” he admits finally. “ but it’s nothi— ” a pause, “ — just can’t sleep. ”

          there’s no response for a moment and fitz thinks xavier’s fallen back asleep —not unrealistic, the guy could just about anywhere— but then there’s a rustle of movement from across the room. he feels more than sees xavier cross the space between the beds, the mattress dipping at his side as xavier gets a knee on it. “ budge over. ”

          “ wha— ”

          “ move your ass, man. there’s not enough space. ”

          fitz shuts his mouth and does as he’s told, wiggling over toward the other side of the bed, xavier sliding in next to him. they lay for a moment completely still, every inch feeling more like a mile. he can feel his heartbeat drumming past his eardrums, the words there on his tongue but locked behind his teeth. then xavier is sighing again and the inches go to zero just as fitz had wanted but couldn’t say, their bodies curving perfectly into each other. 

          one hand grazes over the back of xavier’s hand. “ you didn’t have to, ” he says finally, voice quiet. the tone betrays him a little, though — thankful in its softness.

          the arm around his waist tightens, words warm against his neck. “ go to sleep, fitz. ” 

          he does. he doesn’t dream.

[pcssessicn]

renanlem​:

           his eyebrows dart up, wordlessly challenging fitz’s statement with the full intent to goad him. whether renan would genuinely cause a commotion is dubious, being more of a NUISANCE than legitimately spiteful, but he still feels a small twinge of gratification that the playing field is more or less even now. he figures now’s as good of a time as any to air out their grievances, but fitz’s energy seems different than the past few times they’ve interacted — more distressed, almost, so renan changes course and opts not to provoke him further. he casts a perplexed glance to fitz’ iron-clad grip on the planter, and frowns as he lifts his gaze to meet the grey of his eyes again. “ are you… okay? ” he asks, his voice still hushed and surprisingly concerned, even if he thinks fitz doesn’t deserve it. “ what’s happening? who are we hiding from? ” renan wonders for a moment if it’s the same girl he went out of his way to avoid, but her actions seemed harmless enough and fitz seems really freaked out. “ should i go distract them? ” 

-

         OKAY is a very relative term. by more peoples’ definition than he'd probably like, fitz probably hasn't been okay for years. but right now, renan's right to ask : he's gone past even his much higher OKAY threshold — something that must be fairly obvious if renan's taking note and not instead chaotically making noise that'd give them away. his gaze flickers between renan and the limited view between the overgrown fern fronds, lips drawn down into a frown more perplexed than ANGRY for once. this wasn't the outcome he'd expected, but then again, not everyone shares his combative & selfish instinct. he considers which one of the slew of questions he ought to be answering. the ' we ' detail doesn't go unnoticed but he doesn't have all day to consider it ( or incredulously question renan ) as he's acutely reminded with the sharp sound of heels against linoleum starts up again — this time closer. his hand drops from the edge of the planter as he shrinks back further into the shadowed corner,     " FINE — yes, "     fitz mutters.     " that'd be — that'd be helpful. "

[pcssessicn]

⏳🌺 (we need happy fitz)

𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄: one of my muse’s happier memories

          fitz stares at a lock of hair curling over crab’s temple like it holds the answers, as if anything holds the answers. the quiet hangs heavy in the locker room the way it hasn’t the entire tournament. he can feel it in the way the blood rushing past his ears is amplified, in the way the crinkling piece of tape between kels’ fingers is annoying but no one is telling him to stop. if anything, pockets of quiet were tough to come by in a team of twenty-three rambunctious boys who’d steamrollered all the way to the gold medal game undefeated. there is meaning here in the silence that falls over them all and heightens the nerves shot through each of their bodies. in the end though — this isn’t a miracle it’s just hockey : skating and passing and shooting. they all know how to do that.

          ( eighty long minutes later and that quiet is on the bench, the tense, determined kind. they’ve made it back from two goal deficits twice, fitz’s thigh is still stinging where he took a puck on a blocked shot twice ; he barely notices ).

          his hands are sweating in their gloves when they make it to the shootout ( a STUPID way to end a game for GOLD, but regardless ), forced to watch from the bench because everyone knows this is supposed to be where the forwards and goalies shine -- unless this stalemate goes on and the coaches are forced to continue down the roster. he hopes it doesn’t come to that, his teeth are already clenched hard enough to crack.

          it feels like a miracle when troy scores when it’s his turn to look up empty ice ; it feels a little ANTICLIMACTIC when it all ends with just a save two rounds later. but the stillness only lasts a fraction of a section, the bubble burst as crab skates out from his net and throws his stick in celebration. elated euphoria rushes up to drown out the the nerves that’d been there only moments earlier. someone is screaming in his ear and maybe he is too, a grin growing across his face even as he’s jumping up with the others and it’s a rush from the bench to see who can get there to mob crab first. 

          fitz collides with his goalie a split second before everyone else, the laugh torn from his lips as they near topple over from the momentum. he sees his joy reflected in crab’s eyes behind the bars of his helmet, a hand gripped tight on his jersey, someone skates into him and screams again in his ear. and then it’s just a mass of warm bodies, pressing in around him ; a hand on his shoulder, another jostling against his helmet, laughter ( his own ) bubbling out light into the triumphant atmosphere, and then he’s down on the ice without remembering falling down to it, all around him just an endless chorus of we did it we did it we did. we’re pure GOLD, baby. pure GOLD.

          that feeling never quite fades, joy stuck just under his skin as they finally detangle themselves from each other and get GOLD looped around their necks. then they’re together again, in a tight line this time, arms draped over each others shoulders as the flag is hoisted up. usa hockey is do or die. it’s the type of thing that in the moment he thinks he’ll never forget, fervently believes that nothing will ever tarnish it. in the moment, this is the most important thing to happen in his life.

[pcssessicn]

renanlem​:

        renan’s not exactly AVERSE to the paparazzi, or even the handful of people who end up recognizing him to the point of requesting pictures ( french tourists or wannabe models, more often than not ), but there are some days when, despite the weather app’s warnings for light drizzle and the obviously overcast skies outside, his hair ends up embarrassingly frizzy with no hat to disguise the wreckage. call him vain, but he’s not about to disrupt his streak of looking like a PERFECT 10 in candids when he can just hide from prying eyes until he gets home. when he sees a girl suspiciously point her phone camera in his direction, he immediately ducks into the nearest alleyway, briskly walking until he reaches a nearly deserted clearing, save for a figure hiding behind the foliage that looks a lot like fitz. renan weighs his options for a split second, and then decides to quietly skirt into the space beside him, almost offering a friendly greeting until fitz decides to open his mouth. “ huh? ” he whispers back incredulously, and starts gesturing in the vicinity around them, “ oh, you own this area? what are you, ten years old? i swear, if you’re going to act like a dick again, i’m going to fucking scream. ” 

-

         the interruption is enough for fitz to temporarily stop his obsessive peering through the leaves at the still empty hallway. there's a gratuitous eyeroll ( the sound of heels has stopped at least — though he never heard them RETREAT either ), that ends in a kind of steely glare that's probably not far off from the way his face looks anyway.       " oh fuck off, "     he mutters,     " — you wouldn't. "     okay, maybe antagonizing the company he's relying on to be quiet isn't the most GENIUS of ideas fitz has had, but between anxiety shot through the roof and ( admittedly somewhat ) misplaced anger, control is far from the forefront of his mind. one hand is still on the lip of the large, rectangular concrete planter before them that's definitely seen better days, the course aggregate and sharp edge digging into his palm as he grips it tight enough to turn knuckles pale. to his credit, he doesn't kick renan out from the hiding spot, though that might be because he regrettably has a better chance of controlling what he does HERE than out there in the open.     " — just shut up. "

[sage-brooks]

Send ⏳ or "time"

To have your muse get sent into one of my muse’s memories.

Additionally, add:

🌑 or “dark” for one of my muse’s darker memories and/or secret memories

🌺 or “happy” for one of my muse’s happier memories

💧 or “sad” for one of my muse’s sadder memories

😜 or “silly” for one of my muse’s sillier memories

🎉 or “holiday” for a holiday memory ( feel free to specify which holiday!)

✨ or “proud” for one my muse’s proudest moments (are they proud of themselves or of someone else?)

😥 or “scared” for a memory of when my muse was scared or lost

👶 or “kid” for a memory from my muse’s childhood (how young?)

👧 or “teen” for a memory from my muse’s teen years

⏰ or “future” for a glimpse into a potential future memory and to see my muse in the future

🏥 or “injury” for a memory of when my muse was injured

💖 or “ love” for a loving memory. (Specify platonic, familial, or romantic),

👥 or “people” + a muse name for a memory between my muse and that muse(has to be one they’ve interacted with)

📖 or “AU” + an alternate universe for an AU muse memory

👹 or “nightmare” for a memory of a nightmare

👑 or “good dream” for a memory of a good dream

✋ or “interact” for your muse to walk around and interact in the memory(can be added to other specifications. For example - 😥✋/scared interact)

[pcssessicn]

natesfm​:

he’s so used to being recognized first and foremost as devin’s husband that nate is almost surprised when fitz mentions his profession — but, then he remembered that the guy was a hockey player. if he doesn’t keep up with other sports, then what is he supposed to watch while he insists that hockey is so much tougher? nate almost snorted in amusement again, but he instantly felt bad about it and muffled the sound. “i’ve gone to see you play and everything.” put him in front of any sport and he’ll probably enjoy it, but he didn’t really get hockey until he got to watch fitz with his team. nate slipped his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants and offered it to his neighbor. “here, you can put your … ” his mouth snapped shut as he finally noticed the towel. “ … i can come back.” nate shoved his phone back into his pocket and took a step backward. “or you could just come over later.”

-

         fitz stares at the offered phone like it's a wild animal, a burst of relief creeping through as it disappears back into nate's pocket.     " i'm headed to the rink later, "     he says, which isn't a complete lie but it's not as if that's going to realistically take up his entire afternoon and evening ( well, it could if he got down to it, but that's not what his training plan has in mind for today ). there's a pause, and then a bit too late,     " — sorry. "     but there's something vaguely surreal about this situation, about being known, about being sought out to watch him play, that gives fitz pause, though this is definitely not as surreal as that time he was defending against crosby on the ice or that time karlsson introduced himself when he got lost in canadian tire centre. he sighs, and acutely aware this may lead to many regrets later holds out his hand — the one on the door, not the one on his towel.     " it's fine — give it here. "

[13fingers]

i think i’m in love with you,, have a nice day

You are nothing to me. I won't

[pcssessicn]

moneyshvt​:

@linksopens​

          “ i know you probably like, expect the paps to be around every moment of your life at this point — ”     ayla sounds pretty unconcerned by the whole thing, nails with chipping navy polish tapping over the keys of her laptop. photo editing was easily the most tedious but also somehow also relaxing moment of the day. gaze floats up to the other, shoulders rising in a shrug,      “ — but just a heads up that there’s one behind that bush over there. with a zoom lens even better than mine — so you know, don’t do anything too crazy. unless that was your plan all along. ”

-

          “ dunno ‘bout that — ”     the dubious note in fitz’s voice can’t be missed, gaze slated to the side as he peers down at her. the counter by the window he’s leaned up against as he waits for his coffee digs into his back slightly.     “ you sure they even know who i am ?? pretty sure you’re the only one here that DOES. slice of a SLICE, right ?? ”     that’s not exactly true. fitz saw the boy in the kings cap at the back of the cafe when he paid for his drink, still steeling looks at him like he wants to ask for a photo. if he were a little nicer he might go over and make the kid’s day. but he’s not. so he doesn’t.

[pcssessicn]

@renanlem​

         he's ducked behind a pillar, grey eyes peering out around it, trained on what appears to be a rather unassuming girl, but bears an uncanny resemblance to the source of far too many headaches for him. fuck, didn't he get a restraining order against her ?? wasn't that the whole deal ?? not within 300 feet of him or something. still, fitz isn't willing to risk it just in case she'd come to the insane decision that violating the order was worth it --- or that it wasn't her at all. either way, she looks too PERSISTENT & PERSISTENT for his liking ; food is going to have to wait. he turns, walking in a direction he didn't come from, obviously much less traveled, which could either work in his favor or against him. the tell-tale click of heels tells him it might be AGAINST. cursing, he finds refuge of a sort behind what had once been neatly trimmed decorative foliage, now attempting to grow wild once again. so focused on trying to see his PURSUER ( still there if the echo of clicks is anything to go by ), he doesn't see his company coming until they're sliding in next to him. head turns in a jerk of a motion, sneakers grating against concrete, lips pinching into a scowl as his eyes land on no other than renan. of course.      " no — "     he says in a harsh whisper.     " — no, no, i was here first. "

[pcssessicn]

renanlem·:

        renan knows, kind of, that he shouldn’t be taking offense to the word STUPID, but a lifetime of being described with various synonyms has left him with a pretty substantial sore spot. at this point, his typically amicable demeanor has shifted into something entirely defensive, and renan crosses his arms over his chest, glaring as fitz turns around. “ i’m not stupid, ” he insists, but he doesn’t even sound confident enough to make it believable, “ and it’s good. you can’t even taste the almond milk, but you wouldn’t KNOW that because you’re acting too much like a baby to try it. ” at this point, it’s like talking to a brick wall ( and he’s beginning to sound like a walking advertisement ), so renan gives up, huffing indignantly in french under his breath, “ trou de balle. ” 

-

         fitz can take being called an asshole — he's been called far worse on the ice, and off it, in various languages that include at least some version of french ( if even just the bastardized version of it ). eyes are still trained on the menu —he thinks he'll try the one with banana and honey and cocoa powder— as he laughs when the syllables reach his ears, more to himself than anything. it's not a joyful sound, just short, bitter, and a little bit like ' whatever. ' there’s an eye roll to go along with it, but renan can’t see. thankfully for both of them, and probably the patrons around them who don't need to hear two grown men arguing over a smoothie like kindergartners in the lunch line, fitz reaches the counter, demeanor a little less severe as he places his order. as far as he’s concerned, this conversation is over.

FIN.

[pcssessicn]

tallyfm​:

a lot of times , tally spent a lot of her time running around and doing errands. it wasn’t the most lavish lifestyle , but it hadn’t changed since before moving into the mansion and she didn’t intend on it ever changing. so her feet carried her through the busyness of la , her arms full of various craft supplies , some groceries , the works and her mind was mentally checking off the next few places she had to get to and things to buy. and tally’s almost finished her list when she comes face to face , or body to body , with another. ❛ ah fuck , ❜ she mutters out when her body collides with another , falling to the ground to pick up the things she’s dropped rather than register who it is she bumped into. ❛ yep , just me , no need to sign autographs or whatever. ❜ tally finally looks up at him , once her things are back in their respective bags and she’s not hunched over. ❛ my brother will be so jealous i bumped into you. ❜

         luckily there's no one else around —at least that cares— to see how wholly unhelpful fitz is in the moment. tally looks like she has it covered anyway ; who is he to try to butt in and probably end up bumping heads ?? he hums out some version of uh huh, attention on his phone as he types off another mostly meaningless message.     " tragic really, "     he deadpans,     " that he isn't here. "     his phone is finally tucked away into the back pocket of his shorts, because he does have some sense of courtesy. grey eyes take in the copious number of bags hanging from her arms, rustling as she shifts and a welcomed breeze slips down the hot street.      " you've got a lot going on there — planning a PARTY or you just bored ?? "

[pcssessicn]

natesfm​:

nate was so relieved. after weeks of catching fleeting glimpses of his new neighbor and feeling certain that he recognized him from somewhere but struggling to put a name and a face together, he had solved the puzzle. “i was watching sportscenter and i saw that swing.” nate mimicked the action like fitz needed the demonstration. ( he suspects that his imaginary grip is atrocious and it causes him to audibly snort in amusement. ) “i’d recognize it anywhere — oh, i’m nate, by the way. i live … ” he distractedly pointed over his shoulder to the general direction of his home. “ … that’s why i jog by every morning. you should come over and have a beer sometime,” nate offered while his adrenaline was still pumping.

         it's with mild HORROR that he watches nate continue to ramble on with absolutely zero regard for the situation. barely twenty seconds in and he feels EXHAUSTED. an equally unimpressed gaze watches him ( very poorly ) mimic his slapshot, but he supposes he can forgive that — wholly different sports and all. still, teeth sink into his bottom lip as he just barely contains an irritated sigh. it's with relief when there’s finally a pause.      " — carpenter. dodgers. yeah, i know. "     his grip on his towel shifts, and he considers his hand still wrapped around the edge of the door. too late to close it ?? unfortunately, it probably is. eye contact is made, albeit reluctantly.       " but — uh — yeah, sounds great. "      his tone and expression don't quite seem to agree with the words that come out of his mouth. probably because he has zero intention on following up on that.

-

[pcssessicn]

FITZ PHÉNIX-ALVAREZ     ↳ his player page on nhl.com