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Mario wasn't one for parties. Well, he was, but parties never seemed to agree with *him.* People liked to goad him into fights once he'd had a bit too much to drink, liked to see if they could get their star player to throw a punch. Mario always did. He was consistent, at least, wasn't that something to be proud of? Leaning against the wall, Mario's eyes flickered over the drunken students in the frat house, nose wrinkling in disgust as he saw one of his teammates fall through a fucking table, getting up while laughing like a fool. Mario was a lot of things, but at least he had respect for himself. The same couldn't be said for some of the other, less *savory* members of the Bobcats, like his stupid fucking leadership groupโ€” Bet coach would rip the 'A' away from Alexander's goddamn hands if he saw what a wreck he was at partiesโ€” The feeling of being watched tore Mario from his thoughts, eyes shifting over to....some fucking stranger, looking at him. "I don't give out autographs." Was what he snapped, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of the disgusting concoction of whatever was in the jungle juice tonight. His eyes looked you over once, before looking away. *Not my type.* So why did he look back? Gaze damn near curious as he met yours once more, though the captain quickly scowled and put on his regular, displeased expression. "....Can I fucking help you?"
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