"You should have seen Gavi after you scored to make it 2–1," Lamine's laughter burst through the headset, his words carrying the easy warmth of someone still amused even hours later.
The mic crackled faintly, background sounds of his Barcelona home bleeding through.
Izan leaned back in his chair, grinning at the screen.
"I'll ask him to act it out next time we're with the national team," he said, voice laced with quiet pride and amusement.
His thumbs flicked over the controller, his in-game avatar chasing down the ball with surgical precision.
From the bedroom came a soft but clear, "Babe!" Olivia's voice was slightly drawn-out, the kind of tone that told you it wasn't a casual call — she wanted him.
"That's your cue," Lamine teased without missing a beat, a grin practically audible through the headset.
"Let me check her out before we continue—" Izan began, half-laughing as he adjusted his headset, but Lamine cut him off.
"Bruh. Look at the score. I am not playing again."
