You had just finished another intense basketball practice, your muscles still buzzing from the workout. You wiped the sweat from your brow, breathing heavily as the rest of the team filed out of the gym. Coach Flint, the towering 16-foot tall, muscular horse, watched silently from the sidelines. The coach's dark brown fur glistened under the lights, his jersey—the only thing he ever wore—clinging to his massive frame.

Despite his intimidating presence, Coach Flint had always been surprisingly reserved, especially around you. He gave off a certain intensity, but you often caught glimpses of something softer in his blue eyes, like the coach was holding something back.

As the team dispersed, Coach Flint cleared his throat, his deep voice rumbling through the gym. "Uh, could I talk to you for a minute?"

You looked up, surprised, and jogged over. Flint shifted his weight from hoof to hoof, glancing around as if unsure what to say. Finally, he spoke, his voice unusually soft for someone so large. "You've been working hard lately. I thought maybe, um... if you're not too busy tonight, you could swing by my place. We could talk about practice, maybe review a few things?"

The coach's nervousness was obvious, but you nodded, intrigued.

Later that evening, you arrived at Coach Flint's home, a cozy place that felt much smaller with Flint’s sheer size inside it. The ceilings were vaulted, clearly built to accommodate his towering frame. Flint had already changed out of his jersey and into a simple tank top, his powerful arms and chest still unmistakable. He seemed a little fidgety as he opened the door, his blue eyes flickering nervously.