The players finally bunched up in a loose circle, breath fogging in the cool Munich air, their chatter fading when Arteta stepped into the middle.
The coach of the north London club pulled his jacket tighter against the breeze, squinting at the group like he was measuring each of them.
"It's cold," he began, his voice steady, carrying easily over the quiet.
"But you're not going to remember the cold."
He paused, letting their eyes stick on him.
"Because very soon, you'll feel the heat."
A couple of players shifted while others, like Saka, pressed his lips together like he wanted to make a comment but thought better of it.
The rest, like Izan, just folded their arms, waiting.
Arteta let the silence breathe before continuing, pacing slowly in front of them.
"We didn't come to Munich for sightseeing. We didn't come here to count days or just pass time. We came here for the Champions League final and nothing else."
