"Brute?" Brendan repeated, before he chuckled. "I am sorry, Scarlett O'Hara." His Southern accent was atrocious, but it got the message across. He bounced the ball against the floor before he caught it again.
He shrugged, slowly taking a few steps forward. "And either/or. Sometimes I spruce it up with a few marbles." And then, apparently, the time for small-talk was over, because Brendan surged forward, resetting back at the line before turning around and making a break for the basket. He was determined to score one this time.