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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
And above them, searchlights continued sweeping across the mist while artillery batteries stood silent behind reinforced walls waiting for whatever came next.
Morning arrived badly.
Not loudly.
Not suddenly.
Badly.
The mansion barely slept after the police finally left sometime near dawn. Even once the flashing blue lights disappeared from the driveway and the last officer closed the gate behind them, the atmosphere inside the house never fully settled again.
Every sound felt wrong afterward.
The heating system clicking alive somewhere downstairs.
Floorboards shifting naturally in the walls.
Rain tapping softly against glass.
All of it carried tension now.
Francesco woke after maybe two hours of real sleep at most.
The bedroom remained dim beneath pale winter light filtering through the curtains, but his body reacted instantly the moment his eyes opened.
Alert.
Heart already faster than normal.
Like part of him still expected another crash downstairs.
Beside him Leah slept lightly curled toward his side beneath the blankets, one hand still resting against his arm even in sleep.
Protective instinct now.
Or reassurance.
Maybe both.
Cheddar lay directly beside the bed instead of near the doorway like usual. The dog lifted his head immediately the second Francesco moved.
Still guarding.
Still watching.
Francesco rubbed both hands slowly across his face before sitting up carefully.
Everything hurt.
Not football hurt this time.
Adrenaline crash hurt.
His shoulders felt stiff from swinging the bat.
His ribs ached from tension.
And emotionally he felt strange.
Disconnected almost.
Like the brain still struggled to process the shift from scoring a title-race winner at the Etihad to standing barefoot in a destroyed living room facing a man with a knife less than twenty-four hours later.
The phone on the bedside table buzzed violently.
Then again.
And again.
Messages.
Calls.
Notifications exploding nonstop across the screen.
Francesco frowned slightly before picking it up.
And immediately understood why.
News alerts covered almost the entire display.
ARMED BURGLARY AT ARSENAL STAR'S MANSION
FRANCESCO LEE CONFRONTS INTRUDERS
POLICE RESPOND TO INCIDENT AT RICHMOND PROPERTY
Reports everywhere already.
England moved quickly with stories like this.
Especially involving famous footballers.
Especially after one of the most watched Premier League matches of the season the night before.
Another call came through immediately.
Mum.
Francesco answered instantly.
"Mum—"
"Oh thank God."
Sarah's voice cracked emotionally before he could even finish speaking.
And immediately he heard it.
Crying.
Not full panic crying anymore.
Relief crying.
Which somehow felt worse.
"I'm okay," Francesco said quickly sitting upright now. "I'm alright."
"What happened?" she asked shakily. "Mike woke me up because someone sent him the news and—"
"I'm okay," he repeated more softly. "Leah's okay too. Cheddar's okay."
From somewhere farther away he heard Mike's voice asking questions too.
"Were they armed?"
"Did they hurt you?"
Francesco exhaled slowly trying to keep his own voice calm.
"One had a knife."
Silence.
Then Sarah made the kind of terrified sound only mothers made.
"Oh my God…"
Francesco closed his eyes briefly.
"I handled it before police arrived."
"That's not the point!" she cried immediately. "They were inside your house!"
Leah stirred awake beside him hearing the conversation and immediately looked toward him anxiously.
He mouthed quietly:
"My parents."
She nodded slowly.
Mike's voice came through stronger now after clearly taking the phone.
"Son, are you injured?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"What about Leah?"
"She's alright. Just shaken."
Mike exhaled hard over the line.
Francesco could almost picture him pacing already.
"Jesus Christ."
For a few seconds nobody spoke.
Just breathing.
Then Sarah's voice returned quieter now.
"You could've been killed."
That one landed harder.
Because objectively?
Yes.
The knife replayed again instantly inside Francesco's head.
The flash of the blade beneath the kitchen lights.
The man reaching for it.
Cheddar barking.
Everything happening too quickly.
"I know," he admitted quietly.
Leah reached over beside him and squeezed his hand gently.
Sarah sniffed hard over the line.
"You're coming home for dinner this week. I don't care what your schedule says."
Despite everything, Francesco almost smiled.
"Yes, Mum."
"And bring Leah."
"Yes, Mum."
"And Cheddar."
"He'll emotionally demand it anyway."
There was a pause.
Then unexpectedly Sarah laughed through tears.
Small.
Broken.
But needed.
Mike groaned immediately.
"No. Not you too."
Francesco rubbed his forehead tiredly.
"Walker infected the entire club."
"Apparently Europe now," Mike muttered.
The call lasted another fifteen minutes.
Questions.
Relief.
Repeated reminders to improve security immediately.
Repeated confirmation that nobody got hurt.
And beneath all of it, the emotional reality parents carried when something like this happened to their child no matter how old he became.
After the call ended, Francesco sat quietly on the edge of the bed for a moment staring at nothing.
Leah touched his shoulder gently.
"How are they?"
"Terrified."
"Mine too probably."
Almost on cue her own phone started ringing.
"Mum" flashing across the screen.
Leah sighed softly before answering.
And immediately Francesco heard crying again from the other side of the room.
Different voice.
Same fear.
Cheddar rested his head against Francesco's knee quietly while Leah reassured her parents over the phone near the window.
"Yes, I'm okay."
"No, he's okay too."
"Yes, the police came quickly."
"No, nobody got upstairs."
The mansion suddenly felt emotionally exhausted.
Not just physically damaged.
Exhausted.
Then another call came through.
Jorge Mendes.
Of course.
Francesco answered.
"Jorge."
"Stay inside."
No greeting.
Straight business.
The agent's voice sounded sharper than usual immediately.
"I'm already coming."
Francesco blinked once.
"You don't have to—"
"Yes I do," Jorge interrupted instantly. "There are already reporters outside the property according to Sky. Some trying drones too."
Francesco groaned quietly.
"Seriously?"
"You are one of the biggest footballers in England and this story exploded overnight. Of course seriously."
That sounded accurate honestly.
Jorge continued rapidly.
"Do not speak to media yet. Do not leave the house. Security company is sending additional people this morning."
Francesco leaned back slowly against the headboard.
"Alright."
"How's Leah?"
"She's shaken."
"And you?"
Francesco paused briefly.
Because honestly?
He still didn't know.
"I'm fine."
Jorge immediately made the exact noise of someone who absolutely did not believe that answer.
"Mhmm."
"I am."
"You fought burglars with a baseball bat twelve hours ago."
"Technically successful."
"That is not helping."
Fair.
Jorge exhaled hard over the line.
"I'll be there within an hour."
The call ended.
And almost immediately another one started.
Then another.
Then another.
The entire football world apparently waking up to the news simultaneously.
Virgil van Dijk first.
"Brother what the hell happened?"
Then Robertson.
Then Ramsey.
Then Kanté sounding genuinely devastated hearing what happened.
Even Walker somehow sounded serious for once.
Which honestly made the situation feel more alarming somehow.
"You alright?" Walker asked immediately.
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
A pause.
Then quieter:
"You should've called me."
Francesco blinked slightly hearing that.
"Why?"
"Because I would've emotionally drop-kicked them."
Despite everything, Francesco laughed once.
"There he is."
"Never left."
Then Walker's voice became serious again.
"Glad you're okay though."
One by one the calls kept coming.
England teammates.
Old academy friends.
Former coaches.
People he hadn't spoken to properly in months.
Everyone reacting to the same horrifying headlines spreading across every sports network and news station in Europe now.
By late morning it genuinely became impossible to avoid.
The story was everywhere.
Sky Sports reporters discussing it outside Arsenal's training ground.
BBC News running live updates.
Newspapers posting photos of police vehicles outside the Richmond property.
Even international football accounts picked it up quickly.
The contrast between the headlines felt surreal.
YESTERDAY: FRANCESCO STUNS CITY
TODAY: ARSENAL STAR FIGHTS OFF ARMED INTRUDERS
The emotional whiplash alone felt ridiculous.
Downstairs the mansion looked even worse in daylight.
Forensics teams had already come and gone earlier that morning leaving sections of the living room taped temporarily while replacement glass companies measured the destroyed window.
Cold winter air still slipped faintly through the damaged frame.
Cheddar refused to leave Francesco's side for even a second.
The dog followed him from room to room like a furry bodyguard now.
At one point Leah crouched beside him near the kitchen and scratched behind his ears softly.
"You know he thinks he saved us."
Cheddar wagged his tail proudly.
"He helped."
"He absolutely helped."
True.
If Cheddar hadn't barked immediately, the intruders might've reached the stairs before Francesco woke fully.
That thought alone made Leah visibly shiver.
Francesco noticed instantly and wrapped one arm around her shoulders gently.
"We're okay."
"I know."
But her voice still carried lingering fear underneath.
The doorbell rang shortly before noon.
Security first.
Then Jorge Mendes entered the mansion moments later wearing a dark coat and the expression of a man emotionally prepared to murder burglars personally.
The agent walked inside quickly before stopping in the damaged living room.
Broken furniture.
Glass.
Police markings still visible.
Jorge stared silently for a moment.
Then looked toward Francesco.
"You hit them with a baseball bat."
Not a question.
Francesco shrugged tiredly.
"They had a knife."
Jorge rubbed both hands over his face dramatically.
"Jesus Christ."
Leah hugged him briefly hello before Jorge immediately checked on her too.
"You alright?"
"Better now."
The agent nodded before turning professional again almost instantly.
"Okay. Security upgrades start today. Cameras. Reinforced sensors. Overnight personnel if necessary."
"You don't need to—"
"Yes," Jorge interrupted immediately again. "I do."
Then he pointed toward the windows.
"And no interviews."
"I wasn't planning any."
"Good. Because they're everywhere."
To prove the point, a camera flash suddenly flickered faintly from somewhere outside beyond the front gates.
Jorge looked disgusted immediately.
"Animals."
Francesco moved toward the front window carefully and finally saw them properly.
Media vans.
Photographers.
Reporters standing near the property entrance beyond security barriers.
Some holding microphones already prepared for live television segments.
The mansion suddenly looked less like a home and more like a crime scene merged with a football story.
Which technically it was.
Leah folded her arms tightly beside him.
"I hate this part."
"So do I."
One reporter outside spoke animatedly into a camera while gesturing toward the property.
Even through the glass Francesco could recognize Sky Sports branding on the microphone.
Football never separated cleanly from celebrity anymore.
Especially not in England.
Jorge stepped beside him.
"We'll release a short statement later. Nothing more."
Francesco nodded quietly.
His phone buzzed again.
Arsène Wenger.
Francesco answered immediately.
"Boss."
"Francesco."
Wenger's voice sounded calmer than everyone else's.
But only on the surface.
Underneath it?
Genuine distress.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes."
"And Leah?"
"She's okay too."
A pause.
Then Wenger exhaled audibly over the line.
"You nearly gave me a heart attack this morning."
That sounded honest.
Francesco leaned lightly against the kitchen counter.
"Sorry."
"Do not apologize for criminals breaking into your home."
Fair point.
Wenger continued more softly afterward.
"When I heard there was a knife involved…"
He stopped briefly.
Francesco suddenly remembered all the conversations about emotional control from the past weeks.
All the care Wenger invested into this squad beyond football.
All the pressure.
And now this.
"I handled it," Francesco said quietly.
"Yes," Wenger replied. "Perhaps too well according to the newspapers."
Even now Wenger still sounded slightly horrified imagining his striker fighting intruders hours after scoring a title-race winner.
"You should rest today," the manager added. "No training concerns. I already informed the staff."
"I can still come in tomorrow."
"We will see."
Classic Wenger answer.
Then quieter:
"I am glad you are safe."
Simple sentence.
But genuine.
After the call ended, Francesco sat quietly at the kitchen island staring at the untouched coffee in front of him while Leah spoke softly with her parents again nearby.
Outside, reporters still waited.
Inside, the mansion still smelled faintly of broken wood, cold air, and police equipment.
And somewhere deep beneath the exhaustion and adrenaline aftermath, reality finally settled properly.
Someone had entered their home.
Not a headline.
Not football drama.
Not social media chaos.
Real danger.
Real fear.
Cheddar rested his head against Francesco's leg again underneath the kitchen table.
The striker reached down automatically scratching behind the dog's ears slowly.
"You did good," he murmured quietly.
Cheddar wagged his tail once.
Small movement.
Simple movement.
But somehow it grounded the room again for a second.
Outside the mansion gates reporters still waited beneath the grey Richmond afternoon while camera crews shuffled around puddles and security barriers trying to catch glimpses through trees and iron fencing.
Inside the house everything still felt emotionally bruised.
Not broken completely.
But shaken.
The kind of invisible damage adrenaline left behind after fear finally faded.
Francesco stayed seated at the kitchen island for a while longer after Wenger's call ended, one hand absentmindedly scratching behind Cheddar's ears while the other rested loosely around the untouched coffee mug beside him.
The drink had gone cold nearly an hour ago.
Leah eventually finished speaking with her parents and returned quietly toward the kitchen.
Her face looked calmer now.
Still pale.
Still tired.
But steadier than earlier.
"How are they?" Francesco asked softly.
"They want me to move back home immediately."
"That sounds accurate."
"My mum suggested hiring ex-military bodyguards."
Francesco blinked once.
"…that escalated quickly."
"She also called you brave four times and insane six times."
"Fair balance honestly."
That finally pulled a small smile from her.
A real one this time.
Not forced.
Jorge watched both of them carefully from near the living room, arms folded while security workers moved around the damaged window behind him taking measurements and discussing replacement glass.
The agent's phone hadn't stopped vibrating since arriving.
Calls.
Messages.
Press inquiries.
Club officials.
Sponsors probably.
Modern football chaos management.
Eventually Jorge slipped the phone back into his coat pocket and exhaled sharply.
"Alright."
That tone meant business again.
Francesco looked up.
"What?"
"We're going outside."
Leah immediately frowned.
"Do we need to?"
Jorge nodded once.
"Yes."
Neither of them looked enthusiastic hearing that.
The agent continued anyway.
"If you hide completely, the media stays longer. We give one controlled statement, show everyone you're okay, thank the police, then we come back inside."
Reasonable logic unfortunately.
Still exhausting.
Francesco rubbed tiredly at the back of his neck.
"How many are out there?"
Jorge gave him a look.
"You don't want the real number."
Probably true.
Leah stepped closer immediately.
"You don't have to do this if you're not up for it."
Francesco thought about that honestly.
Because emotionally?
He absolutely was not up for cameras today.
He wanted silence.
Privacy.
Normality.
But football fame rarely allowed normality during stories like this.
And deep down he knew Jorge was right.
One appearance now probably prevented a week of reporters camping outside the property trying to provoke reactions.
"I'll do it," he said quietly.
Jorge nodded.
"Good. Short answers only."
"That's literally footballer training."
"Exactly."
Leah reached for his hand gently.
"You sure?"
"No," Francesco admitted honestly.
Then after a second:
"But let's finish it."
The preparation itself felt strangely surreal.
Security staff coordinated positions outside first while reporters visibly gathered tighter near the gate the second movement became noticeable around the mansion entrance.
Cameras lifted instantly.
Microphones ready.
Live television crews suddenly speaking faster into earpieces.
Predators sensing motion.
Francesco changed into a dark Arsenal training jacket mostly because it happened to be closest nearby, though the irony of wearing club gear while discussing a home invasion didn't escape him.
Leah adjusted the collar slightly before he left the hallway.
"You look exhausted."
"I am exhausted."
"Try not to emotionally fight anyone else today."
"There it is again."
"I blame Walker."
Reasonable.
Jorge opened the front door first.
Cold afternoon air rushed immediately into the hallway.
Then came the noise.
Voices shouting instantly from beyond the gates.
"Francesco!"
"Over here!"
"Sky Sports!"
"Can we get a statement please?"
Camera shutters exploded almost immediately too.
Flash after flash reflecting through the wet driveway while security personnel guided Jorge and Francesco carefully toward the front gate.
The atmosphere outside felt chaotic but controlled.
Police presence still lingered nearby.
Several neighbors watched discreetly from windows farther along the street.
Media vans lined sections of the road.
Satellite equipment extended toward the grey sky above Richmond like mechanical trees.
Francesco squinted slightly against the barrage of flashes while walking beside Jorge beneath escort.
Every camera in England apparently pointed at him now.
The same cameras that celebrated his winner against City yesterday.
Now documenting broken windows and burglary attempts instead.
The emotional contrast still felt absurd.
By the time they reached the gate properly, reporters had crowded tightly behind barriers already.
Microphones immediately stretched forward the second security allowed them closer.
"Francesco, how are you feeling today?"
"Were you attacked directly?"
"Did you recognize the intruders?"
"Is Leah okay?"
"Do you regret confronting them yourself?"
Questions collided over each other relentlessly.
Jorge raised one hand firmly.
"Alright. One statement."
The reporters quieted slightly.
Not fully.
But enough.
Jorge stood first beneath the cameras, expression calm and professional despite obvious irritation underneath.
"First," he began clearly, "Francesco and Leah are both safe. That is the most important thing."
Camera flashes continued nonstop.
"We want to thank the police and emergency services for their rapid response last night, as well as Arsenal Football Club, friends, family, and supporters for the incredible support today."
Professional.
Controlled.
Experienced.
Jorge continued.
"This remains an active legal matter, so there will not be detailed comments regarding the investigation. We ask respectfully for privacy while security arrangements and repairs are handled."
One reporter shouted quickly.
"Jorge, were the intruders armed?"
The agent's jaw tightened slightly.
"The police statement speaks for itself."
Another voice immediately:
"Did Francesco physically confront them?"
Jorge glanced sideways briefly toward Francesco.
Then back toward the cameras.
"He protected his family and his home until authorities arrived."
That sentence alone would dominate headlines within minutes.
Francesco already knew it.
Then Jorge placed one hand lightly against his back.
"Francesco wants to say something quickly."
Immediately the noise surged again.
Microphones moved closer.
Camera flashes intensified.
For a split second standing there beneath all those cameras, Francesco suddenly hated football fame a little.
Not the sport.
Never the sport.
The exposure.
The way private fear transformed into public spectacle overnight.
Still, he stepped forward slightly anyway.
His voice came quieter than Jorge's.
More tired.
But steady.
"First, thank you to everyone who checked on us today," he said.
The reporters immediately fell silent enough to listen properly.
"My family, teammates, the club, supporters… it means a lot."
He glanced briefly toward the mansion behind him instinctively before continuing.
"Leah and I are okay. Cheddar is okay too."
That unexpectedly earned soft laughter from sections of the media crowd.
Even now people knew about the dog already.
Francesco almost smiled faintly.
Then his expression settled again.
"It was obviously a frightening situation. But the police handled everything very quickly and professionally."
One reporter shouted:
"Do you regret confronting the intruders yourself?"
That question hung awkwardly for a second.
Francesco thought briefly before answering honestly.
"If someone enters your home while the people you love are upstairs…" He paused slightly. "You react."
Simple answer.
Human answer.
The cameras kept flashing.
Another question came quickly.
"Will this affect your availability for Arsenal?"
Jorge visibly looked ready to physically remove someone now.
But Francesco answered anyway.
"I'm just focused on Leah and resting today."
Then after a second more quietly:
"And replacing a very expensive window."
That finally broke some tension.
Small laughter spread through parts of the press crowd again.
Even Jorge almost smiled.
A reporter near the front called out one final question.
"Francesco, people are calling you a hero today after what happened."
That one made him visibly uncomfortable immediately.
He shook his head lightly.
"No. Police officers are heroes."
The answer came instantly.
"No heroic feelings. Just protecting family."
That line hit differently.
The media atmosphere softened noticeably afterward.
Less sensational for a moment.
More human.
Jorge stepped forward again immediately sensing the right time to end things.
"Thank you everyone. No more questions."
Security guided them back toward the mansion while reporters still shouted behind them trying for final comments.
More camera flashes followed all the way to the door.
Then finally went inside again.
Warmth returned immediately once the front door shut behind them.
Silence too.
Or at least relative silence compared to the chaos outside.
Francesco exhaled deeply the second the noise disappeared behind the walls.
"I hated every second of that."
Jorge removed his coat slowly.
"You did well."
"I looked half dead."
"That helped honestly."
Leah approached immediately from the hallway and wrapped both arms around Francesco tightly.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
"No."
At least honest now.
She kissed his cheek softly before pulling back enough to study his face.
"You looked calm outside."
"I've spent years pretending pressure doesn't exist."
"Football skills finally useful."
"Apparently."
Jorge's phone rang again instantly.
He glanced at the screen with visible annoyance before answering in rapid Portuguese while pacing toward the living room.
The conversation sounded aggressive.
Which usually meant reporters or sponsors.
Probably both.
Francesco dropped slowly onto the sofa afterward and suddenly realized how tired he actually felt.
Not sleepy tired anymore.
Emotionally hollow tired.
The kind where the body kept functioning mostly through routine and leftover adrenaline.
Cheddar immediately jumped beside him and pressed against his leg protectively.
Leah sat beside them both.
For a while none of them spoke.
Just breathing.
Rain tapping faintly outside.
Muted television coverage somewhere in the background.
The house trying slowly to feel like home again.
Eventually Jorge returned after finishing another call.
"Alright," he announced firmly. "You are done for today."
Francesco looked up tiredly.
"I wasn't planning a second press conference."
"I mean completely done. No interviews. No social media. No training discussions. Rest."
The striker leaned back against the sofa.
"That sounds nice actually."
Jorge pointed toward him.
"Good. Let me handle everything outside."
"And the reporters?"
"I'll deal with them."
"You sound threatening."
"I am threatening."
That sounded accurate honestly.
Leah smiled faintly hearing it.
Jorge grabbed his coat again afterward preparing to leave while security personnel continued working outside near the damaged rear entrance.
At the doorway he paused briefly looking back toward Francesco.
"You scared a lot of people today."
Francesco looked down quietly.
"I know."
"But you also reminded them who you are."
That line lingered oddly.
Because Jorge didn't mean football.
Not completely.
The agent softened slightly afterward.
"Rest. Both of you."
Then he left.
And for the first time all day, the mansion finally became quiet again.
No reporters shouting through gates.
No police questions.
No public statements.
Just silence.
Real silence.
Leah eventually stretched slowly beside him.
"I'm hungry."
Francesco blinked once.
"That's probably healthy."
"It means my nervous system stopped collapsing briefly."
"Positive development."
She nudged him lightly with one knee.
"You cooking?"
He looked horrified immediately.
"After emotional combat?"
"You survived burglars."
"Cooking is different pressure."
Leah laughed softly for the first real time all day.
"Kitchen. Now."
So eventually he stood.
Slowly.
Still sore.
Still emotionally drained.
But moving helped.
Routine helped.
Normal actions helped.
The kitchen looked mostly untouched compared to the living room, though broken glass remnants still lingered taped off farther down the hallway near the damaged rear entrance.
Francesco opened the refrigerator studying ingredients while Leah sat on the counter nearby wrapped in one of his oversized hoodies.
Cheddar followed immediately of course.
The dog sat directly in the center of the kitchen floor like emotional supervision personnel.
"What are we making?" Leah asked.
"Something easy."
"That narrows it down to approximately everything you cook."
"Correct."
Eventually pasta won.
Simple.
Warm.
Comfort food disguised as nutrition.
Francesco moved around the kitchen automatically after years of cooking during quieter evenings between matches. Olive oil. Garlic. Chicken. Sauce simmering slowly while Leah watched him from the counter with calmer eyes now than earlier.
The atmosphere softened gradually.
Not fully normal.
Not close.
But softer.
At one point Cheddar wandered hopefully toward the stove sniffing aggressively.
"No," Francesco informed him immediately.
Cheddar ignored this emotionally.
Leah pointed accusingly toward the dog.
"He thinks bravery earns human food."
"He defended the house."
"That's true actually."
Cheddar wagged proudly.
Francesco sighed dramatically.
"You're both manipulating me."
"Correct."
Eventually he prepared Cheddar's dinner too, pouring dog food into the bowl while the dog practically vibrated with excitement beside his legs.
"There you go, hero."
Cheddar attacked the bowl immediately like tactical warfare.
Leah smiled watching him.
"He really hasn't left us alone all day."
Francesco glanced toward the dog quietly.
"He's protecting."
Probably true.
When the food finally finished, they carried plates toward the living room carefully avoiding damaged sections near the taped-off window.
The house still looked wounded.
That was the only word for it.
Wounded.
But warm lighting helped.
So did food.
So did each other.
They ate mostly in comfortable silence at first while television coverage continued quietly in the background.
Of course the news still discussed them.
Every channel.
Every sports segment.
Every scrolling headline.
At one point Sky Sports replayed footage from outside the mansion gate only an hour earlier.
Jorge speaking.
Then Francesco's statement.
The headline beneath read:
"NO HEROIC FEELINGS — JUST PROTECTING FAMILY"
Leah glanced sideways at him.
"That quote's everywhere already."
"Fantastic."
"You sounded good."
"I sounded tired."
"You were tired."
True.
The coverage shifted afterward into football discussion somehow merging both worlds together awkwardly.
One analyst actually said:
"Yesterday he showed composure under pressure at the Etihad. Last night he showed composure under real pressure."
Francesco visibly grimaced hearing that.
"I hate that sentence."
Leah immediately muted the television.
"Done."
Silence returned again.
Better silence.
She moved closer beside him afterward, curling lightly against his chest beneath the blanket while his arm wrapped automatically around her shoulders.
For the first time since the break-in, both of them finally looked still.
Not relaxed exactly.
But still.
Cheddar eventually climbed partly onto Francesco's legs too despite definitely being too large for that strategy now.
"You're emotionally heavy," Francesco informed him quietly.
Leah burst out laughing immediately against his shoulder.
"No. Absolutely not."
"It slipped out."
"You're never recovering from Walker."
Probably true honestly.
Outside the mansion, cameras still waited beyond the gates beneath the fading London evening.
Inside though, the lights stayed warm.
The food plates slowly emptied.
The television flickered quietly without sound.
And while fear still lingered somewhere deep inside the walls after the previous night, Francesco held Leah closer beneath the blanket and listened to Cheddar breathing against his legs while winter rain tapped softly against the repaired glass.
______________________________________________
• Name: Sico
• Stats :
S: 8,44
P: 7,44
E: 8,44
C: 8,44
I: 9,44
A: 7,45
L: 7
• Skills: advance Mechanic, Science, and Shooting skills, intermediate Medical, Hand to Hand Combat, Lockpicking, Hacking, Persuasion, and Drawing Skills
• Inventory: 53.280 caps, 10mm Pistol, 1500 10mm rounds, 22 mole rats meat, 17 mole rats teeth, 1 fragmentation grenade, 6 stimpak, 1 rad x, 6 fusion core, computer blueprint, modern TV blueprint, camera recorder blueprint, 1 set of combat armor, Automatic Assault Rifle, 1.500 5.56mm rounds, power armor T51 blueprint, Electric Motorcycle blueprint, T-45 power armor, Minigun, 1.000 5mm rounds, Cryolator, 200 cryo cell, Machine Gun Turret Mk1 blueprint, electric car blueprint, Kellogg gun, Righteous Authority, Ashmaker, Furious Power Fist, Full set combat armor blueprint, M240 7.62mm machine guns blueprint, Automatic Assault Rifle blueprint, and Humvee blueprint.
• Active Quest:-