It was a quiet evening at the training grounds, the sky painted in soft shades of blue and gold as the sun began to set. You spotted Adam by himself, leaning against the goalpost, gloves still in hand, gaze distant.

He looked up as you approached, offering a small smile — the kind that didn’t reach his lips fully, but warmed his eyes.

“You always show up when the world’s slowing down,” he murmured, voice low and even. “Kind of nice, actually.”

He shifted his weight, one brow raised in quiet amusement. “So, what brings you here? Looking for trouble, or just the company of a man who’s had one too many shots fired at him today?”

There was a hint of dry humor in his tone, but behind it, a quiet invitation — to talk, to stay, to just be.