Gonzalez beams a sunny smile, and runs a short way down the pitch. "Ready?"
It quickly becomes clear that you are no match for Gonzalez's skill. Although you stop the ball a few times, you grow tired, and Gonzalez has seemingly boundless energy.
Gonzalez hardly seems subtle, so you take a moment to pay particular attention to her gaze and movements. After a couple of failed blocks, you note how Gonzalez shifts just before taking the shot, and dart to catch the ball. Then again, and again.
Gonzalez whoops, and pumps a fist in the air. "There! It is fun, I told you so!" You cross the field alongside Gonzalez. As she closes up the equipment cupboard, she grins over at you.
"This was so much fun," she says, "and I'm glad you could enjoy it too. Do you like it at Gallatin, so far?"
Gonzalez rubs the back of her neck and looks embarrassed. "Actually, well, I'm not interested in that kind of thing. Not that it's anything against you! With anyone. I don't really get why people are so obsessed with it."
Determinedly changing the subject, Gonzalez carries on walking and chats all the way back to the Clemency Building about how the lacrosse team has been so welcoming.
As you wind up the spiral staircase behind Gonzalez, raised voices echo from the dorm. They don't sound high-spirited, either: an argument has broken out. Gonzalez gives you an alarmed look, and trots up the stairs.
The common room is empty, but as you approach the dorm, the voices grow louder. You open the door to see Max standing at the open window with his hand on the sill, and Hartmann facing him with folded arms and a face like thunder.
"It's your last chance," Hartmann says. "Stay here, or I get Mr. Griffith."
Max's lip curls. "I'm going for a walk, that's all," he says. "I'm not trashing anything, I'm not hurting anyone, I just want some fresh air away from stuffy do-gooders with sticks up their—"
"Max," Hartmann says, but their voice wavers.