"Wait, me?"In the next minute and a half or so, planning became a bit of a whirlwind, with a good half of the team speaking their mind. I didn't even have ample time to fully vocalize the issues I had with the leadership role being foisted upon me, as everyone spoke their piece in tandem with their introductions.
First was Ferris, who was expressing his disagreement with Ben's planning coupled with a low-effort jab in my direction. Given that it was routed in solid enough reasoning— if I wasn't confident, I could be a potential liability, I bit back my urge to retort for the sake of our team's cohesion. I knew well enough that arguments this early would shatter morale— And I didn't want that kind of blood on my hands.
I only ever want my own blood on my hands, honestly, but these things weren't always up to me.
Fire in the mix.
"With all due respect, you sound as though you try to make up for something."Oh no...
No matter hgow politely you say it, Blaine, people are going to take umbrage with such a blunt assertion of their projected character!
I appreciate the defense, really, but please think of team unity, too! If we all end up not liking eachother, then—
Oil in the mix.
"Nobody calls Ben 'Cap' except Bastille. Moreover, our captain has decided what role we're all supposed to take,"No, no,
no!Amy, I get it being your team's thing and all, but there's no need to get on edge over it! At the very least, stay perfectly polite about it like our new big and scary friend, Blaine! Getting on eachother's nerves solves nothing! Our team will self destruct!
I needed to nip this in the bud.
If I was to be vice-captain, whether I liked it or not... I had a responsibility.
"Guys!"I cut in sternly, gathering most everyone's attention. I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes, choosing my next words carefully and diplomatically. A far cry from how I usually shoot from the hip and off the cuff, but it was necessary.
For
football's sake.
"Let's all keep our heads cool, okay? If we grate on eachother now, we're gonna self destruct on the field, and they're gonna take advantage of that all day. Look, Ferris, here's an idea. Play—"...Sand in the mix?
"The name I was born with is gone now. I've buried it," said the chameleon, catching my attention and forcing open an eye in doing so.
"On the pitch, my name is Sand Vespa.""—Gyargh"The next word cut off with a choked noise from somewhere near the center of my throat, as the growingly familiar sight of our Atlesian transplant secret agent was replaced by the slim, lithe, tanned form of the girl who had been taking charge of the opposing team in their huddle, with her long legs, well-maintained core that was taut, firm, and doubtlessly strong through dedicated training, and complete lack of a shirt to conceal her tight sports bra—
No, wait, this was Jericho!
Jericho wearing someone else's skin!
Cut it out, man!
“What am I looking at?” her double, the original, started with a resigned tone, trying to ignore the other eyes looking at them as she confronted our Faker. “Don’t say ‘Sand Vespa’. I know we’re both from Atlas, but this…”
...
In Mistral, do as the Mistralians do.
I'm done.
I'll embrace this madness.
For the team.
"You say that, Sand, but that's exactly what I see." I cut in, folding my arms with a huff and then a small smirk.
"Sand Vespa looking at Sand Vespa. Though, in this case..."Here we are, folks. Peak comedy.
"I guess it'd be Sand Vespa Lynd, eh?" 
