William at first takes her literally, the look on his face slipping from embarrassment into dismay. In his defense: he's newly returned to the realm of consciousness, and this does seem like a series of events bound to culminate in a game of touch football. Then he figures it out, what she's saying. You're one of us, now that I've made a laughingstock of you.

How familiar.

“If it's the same to you, I'm gonna go change,” he says, picking up his bag and nodding toward the phone booth, then wondering why he's telling her this. He manages a tepid smile—she's a kid and she seems, if not happy, at least pleased with herself. “You can tell me about your frat later.”