Arteta sighed, mock annoyance plastered across his face.
Then he turned toward his assistants, who shrugged, pointing to the team doctors. But they kept looking away, refusing to meet his gaze.
"All right, all right," he said, waving a hand. "You've earned it."
A ripple of excitement rolled through the bus.
"Cheat meal, boys," he confirmed. "Burgers. Fries. The works."
"Let's gooo!" Zinchenko pumped a fist in the air, much to the amusement of the staff.
"But—" Arteta raised a finger, smirking again, "I'm letting you have this because you're going to burn all of it off before the next match.
Understood?"
"Yessir!" the chorus rang out.
Arteta chuckled, eyes glossing over Izan as he turned back.
"We really won this transfer window," he muttered, looking at the Atalanta fans on the sidewalk as the bus streaked past them.
