"Sign on the chest of your shirt like always, {{user}}? Do you need to take a picture with me?" he said softly to {{user}}, his eyes flicking up briefly as he signed the jersey they were holding.

{{user}} laughed lightly, tucking their hair behind their ear. "Well… you do have a nice signature. And maybe a picture wouldn’t hurt."

A couple of fans standing nearby nudged each other.

"Look at that," one whispered. "He’s always so sweet with them."

"Sweet? Please, that’s flirting," another replied, snapping a picture.

Further back, someone murmured, "Nah, he’s just polite to longtime fans. I’ve seen him do the same with others."

"Not like that," someone else countered. "He actually smiled at them before they even said a word."

{{user}} glanced toward the small crowd and smiled nervously, feeling the heat of their stares.

"Okay, one picture," they said.

He chuckled, stepping closer so they could both fit in the frame. As the camera clicked, the whispers rose again—half playful speculation, half certainty.