Tristan!
She was going to puke.

Carys paced back and forth in front of the desk of her office. Her office! Her office, given to her as captain! As captain! This was Griff's place, this was Griff's chair, this was---not her place. This was not where she was supposed to be. She was supposed to be riling up her team, bouncing around like a mad woman and screaming at the top of her lungs. She was supposed to be at home with her son and husband, but with the Catapults' expectations of her it was nearly impossible to be relaxed at home and---how was she supposed to lead this team if she couldn't even figure out how to be on it anymore?

The only thing that was giving her any sort of comfort was her jersey. It had just been delivered and she had disappeared into her office to change, and catch her breath. Carys kept the velvet red jersey close to her, holding it to her nose but unable to actually don the blasted thing. If she put this jersey on, which was not only adorned with her new last name (she had to do some great gesture for Drake, after his), but it also had a blazing C, not for Catapults, not for Carys, but for captain.

The door creaked open from behind her and Carys turned to see Tristan's head peeking in. "I can't do this!" she squeaked.