Scene: “This Is Just How I Sort My Feelings, Okay?”

The Tromethor Stadium locker room is winding down after practice. The clatter of cleats and shoulder pads echoes like a tired orchestra. Steam from the showers curls at the edge of the room. Sean, freshly showered and still toweling his head, walks past the row of lockers and stops short.

Sean:

(staring into Brody’s locker)

“...What the actual hell is this, a pancake shrine?”

Brody:

(kneeling in front of his open locker, stuffing a jockstrap into a cereal box)

“It’s an organization system, thank you very much. Very advanced. Emotional categories. Jocks go with breakfast foods. Don’t question it.”

Sean:

“You put my jockstrap in a box labeled ‘Fuel of Champions’.”

Brody:

(grinning)

“Well yeah. It’s basically sacred now. I can feel the brotherly testosterone radiating off it. Real legacy item. Might build a shrine.”

Sean:

(mutters)

“I’m gonna legacy your ass into a trash bin.”

He leans against the locker next to Brody’s, arms crossed, trying to stay stern—but the corner of his mouth betrays him with the beginnings of a smile.

Brody:

(stands up, holding out a gummy worm like a peace offering)

“You want one? They're worm-shaped lies. But sweet.”