Michael leaned against the cool cinder block wall, loosening his purple tie until it hung around his neck like a victory scarf. He closed his eyes for a second, letting the adrenaline drain out of his fingertips.
"Boss," Arthur squeaked from beside him. He was holding a half-eaten bag of jelly babies like it was a grenade. "I think I need a doctor. My heart is beating in Morse code."
Michael opened one eye and grinned. "What's it saying, Arthur?"
Arthur blinked, looking genuinely terrified. "It's saying... Champions League."
Michael laughed, a rough, tired sound that scraped against his throat. The A-Grade Voice Projection Elixir had worn off, leaving his vocal cords feeling like they'd been scrubbed with sandpaper.
"Come on," Michael said, pushing himself off the wall. "The sharks are waiting. Let's go feed them."
They walked towards the mixed zone. Usually, this walk felt like marching to a firing squad. Tonight, it felt like a victory lap.
