InsaneJournal

Peter had not understood his management's request to wear light colors, a white shirt if he could, until he entered the tented area on Wimbourne Field and was struck with a glob of what felt like paint. He stared down at the bright pink bulge on his chest for a few seconds before looking up to find the culprit, a tiny intern from the back offices who looked mortified that he had been the one to strike Peter. But, the week had been a good one for his team and for himself, so Peter just spread the paint across his shirt like a claw mark and continued on his way. If this was their theme, he was going to run with it.

Anyone who came into his path had a pink hand-print somewhere on their body, whether it be in an appropriate place or not. He was enjoying very much the attention that had been put on the Wasps, and with their latest addition milling about somewhere, the news fresh off a post-game announcement, Peter was feeling excellent about the rest of their season.

Perhaps he needed some yellow paint, with all this team spirit he was feeling. Peter made his way through to a table where the necessary supplies were at the ready, and dipped two fingers into the bowl of yellow paint. With keen expertise, he spread thick lines across his cheek bones, as if ready to go into battle.

His spirits high and the lights down low, this was certainly going to prove to be an excellent night.