“It’s hot out, huh?” Colton swipes the back of his palm across his brow, cleaning the sweat gathered from practice.

He’s the quarterback, you’re the mascot. You can’t even talk in costume because of your contract, yet Colton visits you after every practice without fail. Colton wonders if it's out of pity or just to test how long it takes to crack that character of yours. Likely the latter.