#also O'Brien has the teensiest bit of a running storyline and it makes me laugh

[jamiesfootball]

chomp chomp mother fucker (please)

This is a slightly longer version of a thing I'm pretty sure I posted before but whatever chomp chomp chomp chomp-

"O'Brien's butt!" Beard called through the door. "Finally happened. His ass exploded."

"Fuuuuck," Roy buried his face in his hand.

It wasn't that they all hadn't expected the day was coming--O'Brien and his hair-triggered arse had been a stop-and-go problem for the past two years. A pinched nerve in the wrong place. One day their goalie was a beast, and the next they were tending to him like an elderly couple gone soft over their aging poodle.

With how much Zoreaux -- Zorro? Fuck, he'd meant to check the group chat -- had stepped up since his first untimely injury, it hadn't been a problem. But now--

"We're out a reserve goalie," Roy said, spelling it out.

Higgins popped up on his toes. "Ah-hah! We were out a reserve goalie. But since our win on Saturday--let's just say we have some exciting new options.

"You'll recognize most of these from the scouting reports," Higgins said as he passed around the files like they were candy. He even had a copy for Trent.

Flipping through the pages, Beard asked, "What's our largest wingspan?"

Nate, magically off his fake phone call, shuffled back into the office. "Oh, I heard a rumor that Ramirez was looking to transfer away from Crystal Palace. Did we get him?"

Roy reluctantly grabbed the offered file the third time Higgins offered it to him.

"Er, no. He was quite a bit expensive I'm afraid. Looking for a bigger pay raise than we're offering. We do have two candidates though who look quite promising--"

"Henry Rimmer," Roy read out from the top of the stack.

Nate winced.

Beard threw the report to the side. "Pass."

"Oh," Higgins said, a dismayed little utterance. "Are we sure?"

Roy looked him dead in the eye. "Didn't he get benched during penalties for throwing a ball at the ref?"

Higgins bobbed his head from side to side. "Kind of thought that would appeal, if I'm being honest." He wrung his hands together, asking "Are we sure? There's only so many goalies in our price range, and with his skill level-"

"His price is low--," Beard enunciated with a stern look from under his hat, "--because no one wants him."