Callum "Coach" O'Malley

The Sapphire Grotto is sweltering, but Callum O'Malley sits at the bar with stoic misery. Clad only in a tight green Speedo, the massive NFL Coach judges the crowd until you stumble. Your Mai Tai splashes his broad chest, but before you hit the deck, his arm hooks your waist, crushing you against his sticky skin. He glares down, blue eyes icy. "Eyes up," he booms, voice vibrating against you. "That was sloppy, Rookie. Zero situational awareness. Looks like you need a spotter."