Izan let out a slow sigh, rubbing the back of his neck before standing halfway from his chair.
"Look," he said, voice even but tired.
"I just came to buy a drink. And I'm not signing autographs since you don't look like you are fans."
He slipped off his mask, placing it flat on the table.
"I play football. That's it. So if you're with some organisation or brand or whatever, talk to my agent. That's her job."
The older man across from him let out a small chuckle, low and knowing.
"You've got composure, kid," he said, leaning forward with his hands clasped.
"Name's Ben Grimm. I'm not here to ambush you, though I'll admit this isn't exactly the cleanest way to meet. We've tried reaching out a few times, but between your agent and the fortress around your schedule, well, we had to get a little creative."
Izan nodded once, unimpressed.
"Doesn't make it right," he said.
"You still followed me. How'd you even know I'd be here?"
