The last echoes of laughter and the shuffle of boots faded as the players filed toward the recovery room — ice baths, massages, muscle flushing before the next day's tactical grind.
Outside, under the muted fluorescent lights of the coaching offices, Arteta sat with his core staff — a few tablets spread out on the table, clips paused mid-frame, lineup boards wiped clean, ready for names to be written in.
They didn't rush.
The real work always started in these moments, when the noise thinned, and only the hard questions remained.
Carlos Cuesta, ever meticulous, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed loosely.
"Izan looks fine," he said first. "Sharp. Maybe sharper than before the break, somehow. But—"
He paused, choosing his words.
"We still need to manage it. He's still growing. A knock could be detrimental, and you know how things get between us and those white chickens. He's just come back. Maybe we save him for Atalanta — fresh legs, fresh mind."
