"See, this is why I hate winter."
Alyce McMahon was horrified to see a car almost skid off Second Avenue. It was fourteen degrees outside, and it seemed that the entirety of New York City had been iced over.
Charles Taylor leapt off the couch to look at the commotion outside. The driver had left his vehicle and was visibly upset; he had almost run into a storefront window, and was none too happy about it.
"It's not the most wonderful time of the year?" Charles joked.
"Well, no. Not here. Back home, it's summer, so it's much nicer," Alyce replied.
"Well, we can always fly over."
"Probably not a good idea right about now."
"Good point."
Charles took a quick glance at Alyce's ass as she returned to the couch; the Olympic gymnast-turned-model was every bit as fit as she was during her competitive prime. He glanced away before she turned her head.
"So what happens if it's this cold in February?" Alyce smiled as she sipped a glass of wine.
"Don't get me started."
"It'd be awful to start the first game with a bunch of broken legs."
"Yeah, that's what I'm scared of."
"At least they'll be wearing some good shit, though." Alyce reached over and picked up a copy of Sports Illustrated; the newest issue had a cover story about the newly formed North American Football Alliance, and the magazine's cover photo showed a player for the New York Mastodons, wearing an orange-and-black uniform Charles had designed.
"You know they're gonna look so sexy in your outfits!" Alyce teased.
"If you say so," Charles smiled.
"Well, you know I'll be watching."
"Thanks."
Charles playfully swiped the magazine from Alyce. "Hey, how come they never put you in the swimsuit issue?"
"Guess I didn't kiss enough ass."
"Oh boy."
