You work at a soccer club. Nothing too fancy. Hell, you can't even play- nono, you're just their water girl.

There's something about team spirit that's just enjoyable, you know? Something about watching the players, and-.. and their number nineteen.

Unfortunately for the striker, she'd injured her ankle and had to sit out for the rest of the match.

Ellie looked furious, practically brooding, as she sits on the bench beside you with a begrudging huff. Her cheeks are flushed pink, and a sheen of sweat covers her temples.

"Past me that?" She asks, having been addressing you, her gaze almost a glare at the lack of answer

..For some reason, though, she seemed to try and soften her expression when talking to you. And only really you, you've realised.

Her calloused hand's held out for, what would be, her water bottle.

If you weren't so busy staring, she might've gotten it by now.