Play Ball [Kenlie]

[Verne]

The phone was ringing. Verne had been resting on the bed after what he'd like to refer to as a long day. It took a lot of willpower to drag his cold bones from the bed and across the length of the trailer to answer the phone, but he managed it. "Verne speaking."

"Hello Mr Krouse," came a woman's voice, "Its Amsley Chapmen from head reception at the university."

"Good evening," Verne said sounding a lot perkier than when he had picked up.

"I have some good news for you, the university has processed your application for the coaching position and you were our top choice of the twelve that applied."

"That's excellent news," the tall male smiled, pressing his side against the wall, the phone cord wrapped around him like a snake.

"Congratulations," Amsley told him. "The headmaster wondered if we might be able to trouble you to come down this evening and meet the team."

"Oh," Verne said quickly and spun around to look back towards his bedroom. "What time?"

"Training started at three and finishes at six."

Verne looked at the silver wristwatch he wore. The big hand pointed to the three and the small hand pointed to the five. He had forty five minutes before training was finished, but he wanted to get there as soon as possible in order to watch the team and how they worked together before he met them in person. "I'm fifteen minutes away," Verne told Amsley.

"Excellent, we look forward to seeing you then."

Verne put down the phone and raced to the shower. He had been expecting a lazy rest of the evening lying in bed watching the sports or the fishing channel, so this was a good surprise even if it were a little unexpected. He went through the usual panic-stations ritual of getting out of his clothes far too quickly as he hopped to the bathroom trying to avoid tripping on anything. He brushed his teeth while he was in the shower before washing his hair and realised how badly he needed a haircut, the golden threads tickling as low down as his collar.

When he was out of the shower he stopped in front of the fogged up mirror and swept his hand over it quickly to smile and see that there was nothing stuck in his teeth. "****, need to shave," Verne told himself but it was too late for that. He slicked his hair back with a bit of product and went to the bedroom to dress. He hadn't managed to unpack yet after getting home so finding what he needed to wear stole away precious minutes he couldn't afford to lose.

He was out the door in a pair of grey track pants that he wore thermals beneath, two white shirts, a grey jersey and a black Adidas coat. Verne pulled on a pair of white socks and pushed his feet into a pair of running shoes be didn't bother to tighten the laces on. He ran round the back of the car and got into the driver’s side. On the passenger seat was a black beanie that he pulled onto of his slicked back hair, and a pair of black hipster shades finished the ensemble.

There wasn't a lot of daylight left by the time Verne got to the university, but enough to wear this shades for the half hour that the team would continue to play. Amsley introduced Verne to the headmaster and in turn he was introduced to the coach and left to mingle. "Last day on the job?" Verne asked as the headmaster walked back to his office on the top floor from the indoor stadium.

"That's right, my family and I are relocating to America," he said as he shook Verne's hand. "I'll miss the team, but not the weather," coach Brownly smiled.

"I'll do my best to keep them in shape," Verne offered.

"I'm hoping this next season will be their first shot at the finals. We have a fine team this year," Brownly explained. "Have you ever played baseball yourself Mr Krouse?"

"Of course, for as long as I can remember; I don't know why I didn't take it up while I was attending the university."

"You probably had bigger and better things to do," Brownly laughed.

"Something like that," Verne grinned. "Do you mind if I take a seat and watch the rest of the training session?"

"No of course not," the coach smiled. "We usually spend the first hour and a half on track, weights, or fitness circuits and then I let them practice batting or pitching for half an hour before we get to playing a full game. Of course we don’t always get the indoor stadium, the basketball team usually reserves this, but the field is iced over and no good for playing."

"How many are there?" Verne asked.

"Eighteen, enough for two teams, but three of them are my boys who won't be here after tomorrow, so you might have to do a bit of promoting around campus."

Verne smiled and took a seat on the bleachers while the coach walked out onto the middle of the room and gave the team hell for their final session with him. Verne could tell that the existing coach had been very firm with the team but it seemed to have gotten him some great results. He spent five minutes trying to work out which three were Brownly's sons, who weren't very hard to spot; all three of them tall, skinny and very fast. It seemed the group would miss them, especially as they seemed to be three of the better runners.

One person in particular caught Verne's eye, a pitcher who had just gone up to throw a few balls, none of which any of his teammates had been able to hit, at least Verne assumed the pitcher was male, though he had to admit he'd never seen a guy that looked so good in baseball pants. It didn't surprise him then when Brownly sat down next to him and said, "she's good isn't she? One of our best players."

"She?" Verne said, looking from Brownly to the pitcher and then back again. "You have a girl on them team?"

"Of course, you have a problem with that, Mr Krouse?"

"No, of course not," Verne laughed, "I'm all for women playing men's sports, but will the officials allow that come championships?"

"They haven't kicked up any sort of fuss yet."

"Alright then, I can't see it being a problem."

"Just you wait," coach Brownly smirked. "Just you wait."

[Kenlie (DELETED 4989)]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Kenlie: The ball came back Kenlie’s way, but her eyes were glued elsewhere. With a smack, the ball hit her in the back of the head. She flinched a little, reaching up to rub where it’d just collided before bouncing to the ground and rolling toward the bleachers.

“Jesus, don’t you make sure someone’s paying attention before you throw that thing, Dean?” Her tone was snappier than usual, as was expected. One of the most influential people in her life was moving nowhere close, and she likely wouldn’t get to see him or his family again.

“My bad, Kenny,” the male called, jogging up to her side to make sure she was okay. He shook his head to flick a patch of brown hair from his face before pressing his fingers to the top of her head and being none too gentle about it. The girl socked him in the arm, but not nearly as hard as she could have. “That did, you douchebag.” Dean merely gave her his classic ****-eating grin, before he followed the girl’s stare. There was a man--pretty, but rough around the edges--and he was talking to their coach. By the look on his face, he didn’t recognize him. “Who’s the dude?”

Kenlie’s nose crinkled in a way that could have been perceived as disgust. “I guess he’s one of the potentials. Y’know,” she muttered, trailing off. Dean’s shoulders slumped. Yeah, he knew. No one was particularly happy about Coach Brownly’s move. Every one of the players was like a kid to him. Huffing out something of a sigh, Kenlie tucked a loose piece of hair into the elastic that was holding up her ponytail and took a step in Verne’s direction. “Gotta get the ball.”

Verne: The ball rolled across the floor to land at Verne’s feet. He stood up from the bleachers and scooped up the baseball in his right hand, the same he used to write and pitch. He noticed the dark haired woman jogging over and looked at Mr Brownly who had come to his side to say something. “Here she comes, why don’t I introduce you?”

“Sure,” Verne nodded and held up the ball rather than tossing it to the girl which would have enabled her to dart off again before they’d had the chance to speak.

“Kenlie,” Coach Brownly smiled. “This is Mr. Krouse; he had just taken over my position as coach. I’m sure you’ll be able to show him the ropes and introduce him a bit better at the next practice session.”

Verne extended his arm, offering the ball to the young woman. “Kenlie, it’s nice to meet you. You can call me Verne if you prefer.” He lifted the shades from his face and pinned them over the top of his head after fighting with the beanie for a second.

Kenlie: Kenlie slowed her jog until she was standing in front of the blonde man, reaching out to take the ball from him. As Coach spoke to her, she let her eyes sweep over Verne; not because he was attractive (which, to her surprise, he was), but to assess him. He seemed pretty fit, even if a little young to be coaching a college baseball team. Those piercing brown eyes met Verne's for longer than was socially comfortable, before she turned to throw her team mates the ball. When she turned back around to face him, both hands settled on her hips and she slanted her body to one side, resting her weight on one foot. "I expected you to have a little more experience," she said rather bluntly, which wasn't unusual for Kenlie.

Verne: Verne lets his eyes go up and down the woman when she turned after she had broken the prolonged stare he had managed to hold without feeling the need to look away. When she turned back his azure gaze was level with Kenlie’s. “Oh it sounds like he has plenty of experience,” Brownly interjected before shouting at Dean who had managed to fall backwards over the hop they had been using as a makeshift base.

The tall Paladin folded his arms before raising the right to scratch at the hair peeking out the front of his drawn back beanie. “I’ve played forever,” he told the girl. “Our higher school was the best in the country, won myself a scholarship to study overseas which took me to America for a time before I was scooped up by a European team and from there relocated here after an injury. Decided to study, so it’s been a few years since I got out on the field, but I haven’t forgotten how to play,” he explained.

Kenlie: Her eyes darted to the current coach, and her lips twitched into a slight frown. Once Brownly's back was turned, Kenlie focused her gaze back on Verne and listened carefully to him speak. The more he elaborated on his experience in baseball, the more she was impressed; but she wasn't about to admit it. Not anytime soon, at least. Not until he passed her tests. She mirrored Verne's stance by crossing both arms beneath her chest.

"Define 'forever'. Twelve years?" A bemused smirk pulled at one half of her mouth as she let out a small laugh. "No offense, Verne," she spoke, sounding out his name like it was a poison. "But you barely look old enough to have a beer."

Okay, so that wasn't exactly true. He definitely looked old enough. She just wasn't about to trust the welfare of her team to someone who was barely out of school without making sure they could handle it.