When he was younger, it had been difficult for him to meet his idols. The players that went before him had lived on the pages of books and the posters he hung in his room. In magazines and photographs. Not in the flesh before him. So now? To be on the other side? The pinch marks on his arms might have been visible to those with a keen eye.

His blue eyes were just as excited as the many children he'd seen around, even as he tried to maintain some composure. Not much. He beamed at everyone in the tent. Just refraining from bouncing on his heels. Just. But he had seven pens. Just in case. Seven.