"Professor," Bastian grunted from his locker. He was already in his kit.
"You are limping. You are a wounded duck."
"I am fine," Alex said, wincing as he sat down. "I am stable."
"You are slow," Bastian said. "And now you are wounded. This is not good."
Alexs heart sank. He was right. How could he play?
The locker room door opened, and Alexs heart sank even further.
Antoine was back.
He was not in his suit. He was not in a medical boot.
He was in his full, number ten training kit. He was tying his boots. He looked... perfect. He looked fast. He looked ready.
"Ah, Professor," Antoine said. He smiled, but his eyes were not smiling. They were sharp. He looked at Alexs swollen ankle.
"A battle scar," Antoine said. "Congratulations. You are a real player now."
"It is nothing," Alex said, trying not to look weak.
