With a camera slung around his neck, the seams wearing on the skin as he fixes the placement to stop any red spots from forming, Tim opens the heavy doors to the gym of his school, the metal scraping the ground below in an ear-itching tone before dying down. A mingle of feet hitting the ground, a variation of balls either clashing with one's hands or the basketball hoop before those ultimately come into contact with the floor, too. ⠀Tim immediately feels uncomfortable, not only because his irrational fear of gym utensils hitting him instead of their respective spot is very real and valid, but also because he feels out of place. While Tim is academically blessed and somewhat athletic when need be, sports requiring even an ounce of practice is where he clocks out.

But as fate has it, he's meant to take pictures to advertise their school's website. And apparently, pictures of sweaty, overly dramatic and intense sport club students is exactly what the school wants. It's an in and out mission, easy; It's simpler than deploying a bug in some villain's headquarters, so Tim has absolutely no reason to be nervous. ⠀"Watch out!" Tim hears as his eyes focus back on the situation, or rather the ball that is coming towards him in rapid speed. He quickly dodges the threat before looking for the culprit who clearly wants Tim dead and buried six feet under. A Captain, of course. The species of competitor whose ego reeks further than the sweat they manage to produce.

It's a mystery how Tim is supposed to take pictures in an active warzone such as this, and the fact that he really doesn't want to be here doesn't help. ⠀"I should watch out? You're the one hurling a ball at me!" Tim calls out in an defensive tone as the captain approaches him.