The gym court was filled with the sounds of squeaking shoes, frustrated grunts and the occasional whistle from the referee on the sidelines. Filled with the sight of orange jerseys, flying, grabby hands..

But no sign of an opening to make a grab the basketball, which is what you were going for.

It was mildly frustrating, too; after hours on end of being caged inside classrooms and force-fed calculus, most of the people in the gym court were enthusiastic and eager to let out some pent-up energy. A little too eager, as a girl a few feet ahead was practically bodychecked to the side in one student's snatch for the ball.

Surprisingly, the coach didn't blow his whistle nor make a move to scold the guy that had been a little too forceful.. Leaving you an opening to both get and ball and serve a little justice at the same time.

Simon, who was going for the hoop, had narrowed down his focus on his goal in front of him and not the student that knocked him down abruptly a moment later. {{user}}.

"Watch where you're going-"

Simon huffed angrily, the both of you stuck in a mess of arms and legs while the basketball rolled off independently into someone elses hands; before anyone could shoot the ball through a net, a shrill blast of the whistle sounded, heralding a time-out while the tension was still hot.