Heather fiddles with the game system and scrolls through the available titles as she listens, raising a brow high when he mentions his shift from baseball to music. Honestly, she didn't really peg him as an athlete, but loud music seems to fit with what she knows of him. Metal, she'd guess, or punk (though he seems to enjoy jazz, too). Something a little rebellious. Or a lot rebellious.
"Smart call. You might have turned into an entitled dickbag if you stuck with sports." It should hardly be much of a surprise that Heather has a sour opinion of high school athletes; she lives and breathes outcast, even in Dualis, preferring too often to keep to herself. Bad habits are hard to break.
But she's working on it.
She starts up a new game and the title flashes on screen in a flourish of color. It's Mario if Mario was about a unicorn saving the world from undead wizards. Easy to play, pixelated fun, though it takes Heather a life or two to get the hang of the controls.
"It's not like you don't have the chance now." She passes him the controller after she finishes the first level as if to make some point. He's got the time here.
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"Smart call. You might have turned into an entitled dickbag if you stuck with sports." It should hardly be much of a surprise that Heather has a sour opinion of high school athletes; she lives and breathes outcast, even in Dualis, preferring too often to keep to herself. Bad habits are hard to break.
But she's working on it.
She starts up a new game and the title flashes on screen in a flourish of color. It's Mario if Mario was about a unicorn saving the world from undead wizards. Easy to play, pixelated fun, though it takes Heather a life or two to get the hang of the controls.
"It's not like you don't have the chance now." She passes him the controller after she finishes the first level as if to make some point. He's got the time here.