The dining hall had thinned out, but not by much.
Plates were empty, cups were half-filled with orange juice or coffee that had long gone cold, and the players, still buzzing from the energy and vibes Saka's return had brought, lingered around in groups.
Some leaned against tables, others slouched in their chairs, laughter and low chatter weaving through the space like background music.
Nwaneri was telling a story about the last time he tried to cook for himself, and the table erupted again when Martinelli mimed the smoke alarm going off.
Even Arteta, watching from the far end of the room with his arms folded, couldn't help but shake his head and smile.
But then, as the laughter softened, his tone shifted.
"Alright, boys," he said, his voice calm but clear enough to cut through the noise.
"Fun's good, but we've got something important to do before training."
Arteta set his cup down, glancing briefly at the clock on the wall, which showed the time at 12:42.
