August 13, 2010 – 5:00 PM
Location: Graves Residence – Oak Hill, Virginia
The living room buzzed with leftover adrenaline, half-eaten snacks, and the echo of laughter. Bags were scattered across the floor. Shoes were kicked off. Uniform tops were tied around waists or hanging off chairs.
The room wasn't fancy, but it was warm — the kind of warmth that came from familiarity. From battle-earned friendship.
Lucas Graves leaned back against the couch armrest, arms folded, a bottle of water resting on his thigh. His yellow eyes scanned the group — still trying to accept that the impossible game was over.
Ethan Albarado was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, tracing invisible diagrams in the air with one finger — like he was still playing.
Louie Davas had somehow stolen the TV remote and was flipping between channels like it owed him money.
Evan Cooper was half-dozing, shoes off, hoodie up.
