I’m used to being the only fag on the team, so I’ve grown immune to the attractiveness of other players (though, my general type/scene is athlete/...jock). Sometimes, my club will host a scrimmage against the grad schools or the older guys and afterwards, in the great tradition of rugby, we head to the bar and get stupid drunk and sing to our heart’s delight. It was just another drink-up after a scrimmage. At 6’3”, he towered over me (5’6”). Jeez, what a build on this guy. He was solid, not. “Dr Silverman, who’s one of the top neurologists in the country, is in overall charge of your care and I’ve paged him to let him know you’re awake.”I was full of questions but heeded the doctor’s warning that he wasn’t supposed to tell me anything. I took another sip from the sippy cup.“Dr Silverman will no doubt give you a thorough examination tomorrow,” said Dr Baverick, “but I’d like to do some basic checks to make sure there’s nothing to cause immediate concern. How are you feeling? Do you. “Are you doing anything after lunch?” “I was planning to go home and take a nap,” I say. I don’t usually take afternoon naps, since I’m not eighty, but the apocalyptic summer sunshine that’s been turning the grass brown and the locals browner for the past couple of weeks isn’t conducive to much else. “Oh,” she murmurs. I know she wants me to ask. “What did you have in mind?”“I’ve got a job interview in half an hour. I thought maybe, well, maybe you could come with me.” “What kind of job?”. “Shit. I didn’t volunteer for anything.”But before their conversation could continue, the instructor’s voice came over their system. “Worthington and Camp, you’re first up. Check out your ship and be ready in ten,” he said/bellowed.“What the fuck?” Worthington snarled, but Camp wasn’t in the mood.“Shut the fuck up. You heard the Colonel. We either do this are we’re out on our asses. I, for one, don’t want to go back with my tail tucked between my legs. I strongly suggest you go over what you’re.