"It is," he agreed quickly, taking a larger taste of his beer and stretching his legs out before him, one ankle crossing over the other. "My pop always said I'd make my money with my feet; can't say that I'd wanna do anything else."

Honestly, he didn't know what he'd do if he didn't play football; the question was one that he tended to avoid when it did come up. It was the question he'd avoided since the day he'd woken up in St. Mungo's and even today, when he knew his place on the team was assured (and was even contemplating an offer from Chelsea), it still hovered like so many gnats about his consciousness.

"Anything else I should know about you? You seem charming enough, and the place isnt falling down. Always good signs."

For a moment Athena's name popped into his head; just as quickly he shook that off. They weren't really officially anything and it just seemed uncouth, really, to bring her up. Almost like he was bragging that he had some girl or something. Instead, he gave a shrug.

"I'm big on pizza. And beer. Though, if you know how to cook, I'm all about other foods, too. Oh! I can give a mean back massage if I'm in the mood," he added.