Alex walked into the Arsenal training ground on Monday morning. It was raining, because of course it was.
He wasn't wearing a school uniform. He was wearing a very sharp, very expensive hoodie that Milo had sent him. It had a tiny gold brain embroidered on the chest.
"Subtle," Alex muttered to himself.
He walked into the locker room. It was "Bastian early"—7:45 AM.
But Bastian wasn't alone.
Mark was there.
Mark was wearing a full tuxedo. A black tuxedo with a bow tie. He was also wearing his football boots.
He was juggling a ball. Thump. Thump. Thump.
"Mark," Alex said, putting his bag down. "Is there a wedding? Or a funeral?"
"It is a special occasion!" Mark announced, trapping the ball on his neck. "Today is the draw for the Club World Cup! We are going to conquer the planet!"
"The Club World Cup is in December, Mark," Alex said. "It is August."
"Preparation is key!" Mark insisted. "Also, Milo said I look like James Bond. Do I look like James Bond?"
