❝YO SCOTTY-❞ The pack seemed to shout from all the way across the cafeteria, the un-shifted leader of the group snatching the football the group always seemed to have. ❝GO LONG-❞ Showcasing the ball to their cousin and teammate, he jerked his arm back and threw the ball as hard as he could for him. Practice never stopped.
ANSWERED ! @wolfpxk 💪🐺
Perked up ears send his head around, eyes looking around to spot the ones who call his names. At first he assumes it’s one of his teammates. He has a lot of people calling for him, naturally, as he’s someone who is usually standing in someone’s way or someone who is worth playing a prank on. That does not seem to be the case this time as it is with huge glee he spots his cousins on the other side of the cafeteria. He prepares himself to wave back from where he’s sitting, but… when he… spots the… football.
He freezes in his seat, ears lowering and eyes widening greatly. It’s as if the jock has left and been replaced by a bloodhound ! With a hand pressing against the side of the table, Scott brings himself half-way up from the cafeteria bench; dear Cthulu, not again, one of the monsters groan in the background. Not that Scott notices, nope, his tail’s sudden flicking tunes the displeased noises out. His focus is on the ball that his cousin pulls back, far back. It brings him into a stiff stance ready to leap when —
Go long ! !
“ — GOT’CHA !” Scott growls playfully, pushing himself off the bench and table so fast that its sent back against the wall. Not only does the table shift place, the lunches of those who had been dumb enough to lunch with him seemed to have flown off to other dimensions. No time for eating when there’s practice at bay! As an athlete one has to give 120 percent all day every day if efforts are supposed to pay off! So cue him climbing the nearest bench and table at the speed of light, not even excusing himself this time around. He pushes away lunches and people, gremlins and wendigos, cursed fish and that alike. Nothing gets between him and the football!
Red sneakers squeak loudly against the polished floor, claws slipping out as he directs his hands at the flying leather ball. For some reason monsters have actually started to turn around. They are way too used to this by now, but it’s always interesting to see if he manages to catch it —
He jumps up high, launching his entire self at the ball; “ — GOT YOU !” Letting out another growl, this one just as playful, the giant werewolf lands on his feet back down on the floor. The ball rests between clawed hands, fangs displayed in a wide and proud grin.
“ YOUR TOSS IS GETTING WEAKER, BRO !” Boasting, Scott holds the ball up in one hand. “ THAT MEANS WE GOTTA TRAIN MORE — !”
