Let Me Show You How To Handle Cards...

Clifford then let out a light sigh. The breath left Clifford's mouth like an icy wind on a winter's night. Clifford gazed at the other, his expression unchanging, his eyes never leaving the shaded pair before him.

The question also raised some unpleasant memories from his childhood. Of course, he wasn’t going to disclose any intimacies to the rival football player… or anyone, for that matter. But he answered to the best of his abilities… which were vast.

Clifford listened to the quarterback speak. His eyes quietly closed as he processed what the blonde had said. The thought of losing, yes, was very painful. Clifford's team had experienced it before. 

"Yes...the pain of losing is one thing a man such as myself cannot stand." Clifford confessed, "Losing can do terrible things. Take the mightiest warrior, have him lose a battle, and see what would happen. It can strip the littlest things from you. Your confidence...your mindset...whatever you can think...It can even drive one to insanity." Clifford was speaking of what he had learned of, and even what he had seen. He then opened his eyes, 

"You and I...we are one in the same at times...Brat..."

"If you even make it that far." He sneered a terrible grin, relishing in the relentlessness of his own nature. He would pursue his goals headstrong, and nothing was going to keep him from getting to that World Cup. …and winning it.

"Hmph," snorted Clifford with a little smirk, "May the best man win..." 

He then gazed at the devil's satanic features, his gaze never leaving the other's for that moment, 

"Get your asses on the field and win, or you’ll end up swiss cheese!"

…the current Devil Bats were no losing team. 

Clifford thought about it for a moment, and then he smirked a tad,

"As long as I can decently smash your face in the ground once...that's my second goal...Winning the World Cup is my top priority of course.." He smirked a tad, looking at the blonde's cocky expressions.

"Remember...once we get onto the field...it's your trump cards verses mine...and I must say, Brat, in the end it'll be you versing me.."

Clifford’s gaze sharply turned to face the other’s. His gaze almost consisted of a light glare, but he then smirked a bit, the sharpness of his eyes returning to normal,

"Oh?" he asked, a mocking tone in his voice, "and why should I be worried about you?”

Clifford's expression was now back to its normal gaze, "Your team hm..? Eyeshield is my main concern...as for him...my team can handle anything yours throws at them..." 

A rather playful smirk slid on Clifford's lips,

"Careful what you say...or it might be me who puts that pretty face of yours in the ground..so far that your teeth might get stuck.." 

Clifford's gaze sharply turned to face the other's. His gaze almost consisted of a light glare, but he then smirked a bit, the sharpness of his eyes returning to normal,

"Oh?" he asked, a mocking tone in his voice, "and why should I be worried about you?"

"Hmph…Merry Christmas they say…

What’s so good about it..”