Location: Athlete’s Dining Hall Date: Friday, August 24 Time: 8:11 AM ((closed to @cadxmitchell))
As far as first weeks of school went, Sterling’s certainly had worse. Being a senior with one year of courses left to complete his degree, his professors aren’t going to waste any time coddling their students, athletes or not, by allowing them a gradual build back into a full academic fervor - as woefully demonstrated by the considerable workload he’s accumulated by Friday. He’s still managing to console himself with the knowledge that the daily drudgery of classes is at least bracketed by the relief of practices, and the fact that his Friday schedule is blissfully sparse after making sure those afternoons are free for gamedays.
But, as it turns out, the Corporate Finance class he’s slotted into his 9 AM class time is more curse than blessing - it’s a mar on what would be an otherwise ideal day. Any other weekday he would have taken it in stride, clumped it along with the other boring but apparently necessary academic annoyances... but right now it’s the only non-exy obligation he has. And the second his jersey is off and he’s thinking ahead to his day, it’s difficult to stash away his reluctance, set his jaw, and just take care of what needed to be done.
But he changes out, makes the walk to the dining hall clad his garish orange windbreaker, and decides that waffles, if nothing else, will make counting the minutes down slightly more tolerable. Right up until he’d swipes in and makes his way to the waffle maker... only to find it’s covered in some unholy Frankenstein’s monster of breakfast food - batter charred black in some places that’s still managing to drip sluggishly onto the counter in others. He looks up, across the little island laden with breakfast foods, and demands from the person standing across him, “Did you see who did this? I’m not cleaning this shit up.”
