[b]Amaranth Desire: Football's Eve[/b]

[color=aba000]“Do not worry, teammate. I said the attractive members of the team, you have little to worry about."[/color]

Amy stared at Blaine for a few moments, the student-Huntress' feathers standing stark out of her hair as he continued, then she abruptly laughed, smoothing them down before tousling the rest into a mess of crimson spikes. BASL's stripper wasn't entirely certain if Blaine had [i]meant[/i] to dunk on her like that--from what little she'd seen of him, he was as oblivious as he was huge--but it was a dunk nevertheless, one she'd opened herself up for. One of her eyes closed in a mock wince, her gaze falling to the floor a little before she looked up at him out of the top of her right eye, the soft blue having a twinkling edge to it.

She'd never been that irritated to begin with, just blunt, but that certainly took the wind out of any small anger she might have been feeling. 

[color=E52B50]"Fair enough, big guy. I'll leave the stripping to the men, then.”[/color]

She attached the red brace to her arm, ignoring the unbidden memories of [color=C9A0DC]"red is your color, you should wear it more"[/color] and focusing again. The number one rule of improv was to go along with the group, and the same thing went for a team. Even if you didn't go for the optimal strategy, the group working together would be better than half going for one and half going for the other.

So when Jericho became Sand, she took it in stride, only a slight smirk coming to her lips and a nod to their now disguised teammate. 

She was ready.

Ready for some football.