”…Jesus Christ, Atty. I’ve seen better pin attempts made by a ham sandwich.” Flynn squeezes the bridge of his nose, disappointed in this minimal effort pin attempt.

”Okay. First off?” Flynn lifts one shoulder. ”Kickout.”

”Second.” Flynn reaches into his locker, retrieving a water bottle, a couple loaves of pita and a slice of bacon.. ”Remember to hydrate. Half the hangover is dehydration. Replenish your nutrients with carbs and protein.”

”And Attherine? Maybe next time? Write your ‘Pin Flynn’ poem before you start hitting the bottle.”

Flynn shakes his head, grabs his coat, and leaves the X-Treme title hallway.