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Jason flopped down on his shitty hotel bed. Would it have killed the Stars to get a decent hotel? Like shit. The game was tough and all that pent up aggression needed to go somewhere. He needed to get laid. That wasn't a physical possibility, so he did the next best thing. He called Logan Couture.
"Hello?"
"Hey, what's up?"
"Nothing, just sitting here with a busted leg."
"Yeah that sucks man. Sooo, what are you wearing?"
"You used to call me on my cellphone."
"I got needs Cooch."
"Late night when you need my love."
"Fine, I'll just guess as to what you're wearing," the door opened but Jason didn't hear it, "and what you should be taking off."
"Dude, why - bro are you having phone sex?"
"TYLER, GET OUT."
"No, bro it's totally cool, but you should really start things up. Like tell him to think about your fingers up his - "
Tyler shut up when he heard a loud banging from behind the bed.
"YOU KNOW THESE WALLS ARE REALLY THIN RIGHT?!"
"Oh shit. Sorry Jordie!"
"I'm out. Have fun with your boy," said a laughing Tyler as he left the room.
When the door was firmly shut, Jason got back to the business at hand. The business being his dick.
"Now that everyone got the hell out, where were we?"