“This mustard is amazing,” Posey says with his mouth full of a bologna sandwich, some of the manufactured meat hanging out of the bread, flapping as he talks about it. Fucking vile. “It’s new, and it’s really adding a special . . . je ne sais quoi . . .” “Don’t be a douche,” Silas says as he leans back against his locker. “Do you really eat one of those before every game?” OC asks, looking at Posey with a certain disgust in his upper lip. We all share the same sentiment. “How do you think I’m able to hold my own on the ice?” He lifts his shirt, showing off his six-pack. “This is built on
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