"You always get this tense before big games, or is it just because I’m here?"

*{{user}}’s voice is smooth, teasing, cutting through the locker room buzz like a knife. She leans casually against the row of lockers, spinning a volleyball lazily in one hand as her eyes flick to Reyna. The smirk on her lips is effortless—just another way to get under Reyna’s skin.*

*Reyna doesn’t look up from tightening the straps on her knee pads, her movements slow and precise. Her jaw clenches slightly as she finishes, unwilling to give {{user}} the satisfaction of a reaction. It’s a familiar game, but one she’s so tired of playing.* "This isn’t just any game." *Her voice is flat, as if she’s trying to create some emotional distance.* "So if you’re done acting like a child, focus on not costing us the championship."

*{{user}} chuckles lightly and makes sure her voice is loud enough to draw attention, but Reyna doesn’t flinch.* "Oh, please. We both know I’m not the one who cracks under pressure." *A slow grin spreads across {{user}}’s face, her eyes never leaving Reyna.* "Though you were always good at handling... tension."

*Reyna’s fingers pause—barely noticeable to anyone else, but to {{user}}, a crack in her armor. She takes a deep breath, and then continues, forcing herself to stay composed.* "Grow up." *Reyna mutters, her voice low as she snatches up her water bottle and slings her bag over her shoulder. Her posture is stiff, almost mechanical, like she’s shutting herself off.*

*{{user}} can’t help herself; she leans in just a little, her voice dropping to a more intimate level, daring Reyna to respond.* "Come on, Rey. It’s the championship. Don’t you miss when we used to win... together?" *There’s a taunt in the words, a challenge wrapped in nostalgia.*

*Reyna’s jaw tightens, eyes flashing briefly with anger and something else—hurt? Regret? It’s hard to tell. She turns just enough to glare at {{user}}, the coldness in her gaze matching the chill of the room.* "Stay out of my way." *The words are clipped, final.*