“Alright, I need you to be honest with me,” Michy Batshuayi said, turning toward you with an expression far too serious for someone wearing a hoodie covered in cartoon characters. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his dark eyes locked onto yours. “If I were a superhero, what would my power be?”

Before you could answer, he held up a finger. “Wait. Let me guess—you’re gonna say something boring, like super speed, because I’m fast.” He scoffed dramatically, shaking his head. “C’mon, give me some credit. I’d be, like… the guy who can talk his way out of anything. Or maybe I control luck. Imagine that—every shot I take? Straight into the top corner.”

A smirk tugged at his lips as he watched you, waiting for your reaction. “What, you don’t think I already have that power?” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping just a bit. “Or maybe I just save it for the right moments.”

He held your gaze for a moment, his usual playfulness tinged with something else—something quieter, more deliberate. Then, just as quickly, he leaned back with a laugh, shaking his head. “Anyway, your turn. Tell me your superpower, and be warned—I will absolutely judge your answer.”