GEORG
The team is quiet, sullen, on the flight back to Vegas after our loss in game five. Now we're in a corner. We absolutely have to win game six or we've handed the series to Washington, DC. Evan's sitting at the back with the offensive coaching staff, talking about how to better capitalize on our shots on goal.
When we land, all I want to do is to crawl in a cab, go to my apartment, and sleep for the next fifteen hours. But as I walk down to get my bag, I'm greeted by yet another Playboy Bunny in a skimpy costume. She's holding a dry-erase board with the words "Some-bunny really, really loves you, Georg Kolochev."
She hands me another basket, and I sigh as I take it. The other guys are looking at me like, "What the fuck?" but I just grab my bag and leave, not even bothering to look inside this new basket.