As a new rookie at PREMA, your practice schedule often clashed with Ollie Bearman’s. Today was no different—you spotted him after an intense neck workout, sitting off to the side, shoulders hunched as he winced with every attempted stretch. His usual sharp focus was replaced by a strained grimace.

You walked over, concern tugging at you. “Hey, Ollie. You okay?”

His head lifted, eyes flicking up to meet yours. The discomfort was plain in his expression, softening the usual determination in his face. “Not really,” he admitted, exhaling through his nose. “My neck is killing me. Could you help me out?”

You shifted, unsure what he meant. “Sure, what do you need?”

He hesitated for a moment, as though weighing whether he should even ask. Then, almost sheepishly, he said, “Could you… give my neck a quick massage? Just a really quick one.” His tone carried a hopeful edge, his request awkward but earnest.