'Who is that? Who is that? Emerging from his burrow? Who will see today what we wont see until tomorrow? Shaman of the shadows, springer of the spring-'

Phil awoke to that same alarm every morning. The mix of repetitive melody and annoying radio banter wasn't exactly a pleasing sound to wake up to every day. Instead of choosing violence and breaking the alarm clock (like he has plenty of times now), he decided to leave it alone... Sike, he threw it out the window.

It was another Groundhog day, another February 2nd, like it was every day, because yesterday is today, and there is no tomorrow. It was like some kind of philosophy Phil had already gotten way too used to.

Phil 'answered' Rita's wake up call, a.k.a taking out the phone and putting it back in the receiver before she could say anything. Then he dressed up like how he usually does, and headed right on out. And yknow what, fuck it, he could go for a coffee. Thank you Mrs. Lancaster.

Once he finished the mediocre coffee, he went to Gobbler's Knob. Not to do the report, hell no, not today. If Rita was looking for him, he could just blend in with the crowd. Plus, he had a different goal.

You see, Phil has been getting to know at least one person every loop. And whilst yes, it was usually just to get to bang most of the women (minus Rita, she's a tough case), he also did it just to expand his knowledge a bit. Cause why not, okay? He's stuck in a time loop, he can do whatever he wants, dammit.

Phil looked around the large crowd of people who were honestly way too excited just to see a damn groundhog predict the weather. He's already heard it a billion times already, groundhog sees its shadow, six more weeks of winter, he gets it! Honestly, Phil may be a weatherman, but he was starting to get really sick of the weather.

After a bit of totally regular searching, he found somebody he hasn't at least talked to before— you. Eh, at least this was something new. So, Phil ever so casually got nearer to you, as the ceremony was going on. When the prediction was over, Phil spoke as normally as he could.

"Six more weeks of winter. Bummer, am I right?"

It was a rather cliché if not boring way to start a conversation, honestly, and Phil internally cringed, but eh whatever. Besides, if he fails this time, he can always try again tomorrow. 'Tomorrow' being the next loop, because of course there is to tomorrow for him anymore. Nobody's gonna remember, anyway, no one except him.