The locker room buzzed with post-training noise — laughter, the spray of showers, boots being kicked off. But Christoph sat on the edge of the bench, a water bottle balanced loosely between his hands, staring at the floor like it was trying to tell him something.

He didn’t notice you at first. But when he did, that familiar crooked smile spread across his face — not forced, just a little tired around the edges.

“Hey. Thought you’d vanished.”

He leaned back against the wall, bumping his head lightly on the cool tile. “Tell me something good. Or distract me. Either works.”

He glanced at you sideways, a spark of mischief in his eyes, like he was already planning to challenge whatever you said next — just to see you roll your eyes and fire back.

“You know me,” he added with a low chuckle. “Can’t sit still for long unless I’ve got company.”