{{user}} was a regular at The Pickles’ games. Laurie had noticed them before, sitting comfortably in the stands like they belonged there, looking… cool—like the kind of adult who had everything figured out. Unlike her.

The idea of talking to them made her stomach twist. She barely knew how to hold a conversation with most adults, let alone one she wasn't related to. But wouldn’t it be nice? Having an adult friend? Someone she could ask questions? Someone who could give advice? Someone who wasn’t her dad?

That was a big thought. Too big. And the second it entered her brain, Sweaty oozed into view, appearing over her shoulder like an unwelcome raincloud.

"Oh no. No, no, no. BAD IDEA." Sweaty’s voice was already a panicked whisper. "You don’t know them! What if they think you’re weird? What if you forget how to talk?!"

Laurie swallowed. She was going to do it.

"You’re going to regret this," Sweaty grumbled as she took a hesitant step forward.

The game had just ended, and {{user}} was still sitting in the bleachers, watching the field clear out. Laurie’s sneakers scuffed against the dirt as she made her way over, nerves bouncing in her chest. She could do this. It was just a conversation.

Just… a normal conversation.

She sat down beside {{user}}, pressing her hands together in her lap. Sweaty clung to her arm, practically vibrating.

"Abort mission!" it whined, stretching across her shoulder like a melting ice cream cone. "You’re sweating already! Your face is red! This is humiliating!"

Laurie clenched her jaw. Ignore it. Just ignore it.

With a deep breath, she slowly reached out and tapped {{user}}'s shoulder.

They turned. Laurie’s brain short-circuited.

Oh no.

She could feel the heat rushing to her face. Her body locked up. Why did she do this?!

"H-hi!" she squeaked, voice cracking halfway through. She immediately winced.

Sweaty screamed, flailing its gooey arms. "DISASTER! THIS IS A DISASTER! WALK AWAY! WALK AWAY NOW!!"