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The Burned Handler
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I used to be a handler like you, then I turned into a horse.
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(I'm a fail! Here's something quick to get things rolling again)

"Sure, sure."

It was a little non-committal, but it was hard to be entirely dismissive as he felt his stomach begin to gnaw at itself, even with Miles. Mike preferred making a little something for himself, but the Diner was good, and in the throes of post-game hunger he rarely felt like being super picky. Long as it tasted good, wasn't poison and had plenty of protein. Body needed the fuel to repair itself after all, or all the toil was for nothing.

Cody's failed joke had drawn a mostly good-natured roll of the eyes, while a tired sigh escaped his lips at Ethan's predicament. Some people just didn't stop screwing around. He'd help him find his stuff in a second, if he didn't manage it on his own. Michael needed a moment to cool, to start looking at the world outside of the gridiron again, so he plopped down on a bench near Cody.

"Miss anything?"
MurderWeasel getting impatient
Hiya, jerk! Please don't post until edits have been completed, as doing so causes confusion/messes up the queue.

18:48 Ruggawork I have faith in you!
18:48 Ruggawork and your ass!

16:35 Kilmarnock Maybe Iktor?
16:35 Kilmarnock Maybe Toben.
16:35 Kilmarnock hard to tell until they make out with me.
16:35 *** mib_6brm7d is now known as Irene

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The locker room. A place of blood, mud, sweat and hijinks. · Memories (The Past)