Chapter 25: Across the Desk
The door clicked shut behind her with more finality than it should’ve. Carpet swallowed the sound of her footsteps. Demien didn’t look up.
The training report on his desk was half-filled—passing sequences marked in red, positional heat zones drawn by hand. His left thumb tapped once against the edge of the folder. Nothing nervous about it. Just rhythm. Controlled. Measured.
Clara crossed the room slowly, her press badge shifting on its lanyard with each step. The chair opposite him was empty. He didn’t gesture at it. Just a slight incline of the head—half-acknowledgment, half-instruction.
She sat.
Her eyes flicked to the clutter—whiteboard behind him still smeared with overlapping diagrams, three uncapped pens, a coffee cup with lipstick that wasn’t hers. Probably one of the assistants. Probably forgotten.
"Coach Laurent," she began, notepad already resting across one knee. "Thanks for taking the time."
Demien finally looked up. His eyes were flat. Not cold. Just... unreadable. "You’ve got ten."
She gave a neutral smile and clicked her pen once.
"How would you describe Monaco’s preseason so far?"
Demien blinked once. "Sharp start. Not perfect."
She nodded, scribbling. "And your evaluation of the squad’s current condition?"