Tyler gets traded to Dallas on a Thursday.

Connor mutters "I thought you didn't like me," out of the corner of his mouth. "I don't," Jack says. Connor's staring at him. "But you knew," he says. His words might be generic-- gave him a time and place, maybe, but not person. But Jack's weren't. Aren't.

"I kissed McDavid and then we won a game," Jack blurts out. He flexes his hand nervously. There's a suspicious silence on the other end of the phone line, but Noah is probably not laughing at him. Out loud.

“Is this like, a weird see it and believe it thing?” Connor asks. “I don’t-- we weren’t making out in front of you guys at the draft for a reason. That would have been really rude.”

"Leon." Matthew says. He can't remember wanting someone like this before, never in his life, like without them he'd explode. Leon is six-plus feet of warm skin and Matthew wants to ruin him. "Leon," he says again. "I promise I'll still hate you in the morning."

ohnny sort of wants to ask, like — hey, Monny, are you hooking up? just to hear the answer. Just to be entirely certain that he's not making it up, or drawing the wrong conclusions. Sean's never told him what he gets up to in Toronto.