“Nice,” he says. “I’m Devin. Point guard for the basketball team.” “Violet. Uh, trainer for the Grizzlies. Like I said.” Smooth, Violet. I’m not especially interested in Devin, but even if I was, it would be impossible to flirt when there’s a furious giant shooting daggers at us with his eyes from afar. Which is Nash’s intention, I’m sure. Devin continues, “Why don’t you come join our table for a—”
