Leon woke up feeling like a new man.
He swung his legs out of bed and walked into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. He looked up into the mirror and did a full-blown, comical double-take, nearly jumping out of his own skin. He'd completely forgotten.
Two days ago, in a fit of post-Coppa Italia, "we-are-invincible" madness, he had gone to a high-end salon with Julián Álvarez (who was trying to see if they could dye his hair to be "the color of a good philosophical question").
Leon had sat in the chair and, feeling bold, had simply said, "Do something different. Something cool."
The result was now staring back at him. His normally short hair was gone. In its place was a longer, artfully messy style, dyed a stark, brilliant white. It was dramatic. It was audacious. It was... actually, it was pretty cool. It made his eyes look darker, his features sharper. It was the hair of a rockstar, not a footballer.
