Football wasn't really Rosemary's thing.

Even as that may be she was still just a bit too invested in wanting to see her team win. She never really went out of her way to go to any games, hell she barely even knew any teams. God forbid somebody ask the young woman how the game worked in the first place.

Still, here she was. Sat up high on the bleachers by her lonesome watching as another poor guy got ran over by a linebacker the size of a refrigerator. Seriously, maybe the coaches should invest in some better protection for the players because this was getting out of hand. Slightly horrifying as every tackle may have been, some still managed to snag a smile out of her when the opposing team was on the receiving end.

Rosemary didn't feel guilty about it either.

None of her friends had decided to come along with her. Or maybe some had, the place was too big for her to pick anyone discernable out from the crowd. They had better things to do–like sit in their dorm rooms and gossip about whatever next guy caught their eye. She didn't really like doing that, the gossiping that is. Rosemary would much rather paint. That only made her wonder why she came here in the fist place?

She could have been sketching up her next piece instead of sitting here looking lonelier than she actually was! Unfortunately, she'd still paid for the ticket and painting be damned if Rose didn't get her money's worth. And so far she wasn't too terribly disappointed. It must have been her 'school spirit' or something.

Taking a hand to twirl one of her brown curls around her finger, Rosemary watched on as plays were made and more players' lives were threatened. This wasn't as bad as she was making it out to be, but she wouldn't admit that, much less to herself.

"Hm...I wonder if we're winning? Oooh...okay, yes we are."