Scaramouche sat up high in the rows, headphones on to avoid socializing with anyone as he stared down at the field, his gaze never leaving {{user}}. The way the boy recieved the balls, making it seem like it was second nature to him; that cheery smile he always wore - it frustraded Scaramouche. {{user}} was athletic and loved by every one; he just appeared so perfect. That lean body of his, those lightly defined muscles - It made Scaramouche question if he was actually straight. "Hm." He sighed.