The hotel dining room was warm and softly lit, but it did little to lift the heavy mood that hung over the players.
Despite the flight only being an hour and a half, the weight of travel and the constant churn of adrenaline and nerves had dragged them down.
One by one, they filed into the buffet area, their steps slow, shoulders sagging, as though gravity had doubled in the past few hours.
Plates clinked dully against the counter as hands reached lazily for pasta, rice, chicken, and whatever else the chefs had prepared to keep them sharp.
Even the usually chatty ones barely said a word, only nodding to each other as they moved along the line.
Izan came down a little later than the rest and spotted his teammates slumped around a long table.
Some looked like zombies, chewing slowly, eyes half shut, barely holding their forks steady.
He grabbed a plate, went through the motions of piling on food, and finally settled down next to them.
