godspeed | marcus rashford

three.

revived reception

A stray morning dawned over Liverpool; daybreak clearly overdue as dawn took over dusk with the sun's natural presence emitting its light over others below. The morning was still quite young so not many bodies were active and actually pulled away from their bedsheets, some perhaps still in a deep slumber as many jobs were due to return back to during later hours. However, this didn't apply to Kyrie.

By seven in the morning, Kyrie found herself awake and working in front of her laptop in the kitchen, fingers gracefully typing up emails and documents with strict precision and patience; her weak hand used to handle her cup of coffee; set sheets scattered around her place in a firm order. There also sat a single lunchbox off to the side, but it wasn't for her. Sat up by the kitchen aisle, her eyes remained focused on her digital tasks, brows compressing and pushing apart every now and then while her eyes never lost contact with the laptop screen. Kyrie placed herself in a space where disruptive noise was cancelled out with blaring silence—almost like a makeshift office if you will.

A few days forward and Kyrie was still stationed at Amari's house. Seeing as her house and his were quite close to one another in distance, she chose to manoeuvre between the two locations in terms of her living situation. I mean, a lot of her possessions were at the Davis household beforehand so she saw no need to rush herself out of his property. Anyway, even when she thought about leaving, maybe for a week or so, Amari always insisted that Kyrie's presence was cherished at his place and because of that, she never found herself wanting to stray away when she was clearly wanted by those around her.

Once she finished writing up a quick email to one of her many associates, Kyrie finally pressed send before she nodded in satisfaction, a small grin forming across her lips. Even for someone who had to spend a large sum of her time staring at a screen, it was nice for her to move away from the technology and simply blink without feeling as if she was going crazy for a brief moment. She wasn't one to admit it openly, but it was known to those around her that Kyrie for sure worked over the minimum time limit set for her standards. However, she was also one to rise them from time to time so in her mind, she never actually reached her own standards.

Closing down her laptop for the morning and taking up her empty mug, she trailed towards the sink where she rinsed the mug before leaving it in its place. Then she continued her stride in the direction of the fridge, retrieving leftover salad and bottled water. Kyrie failed to notice the standing figure on the other side of the fridge so when she closed it, she let out a slow yelp only for her face to pull together when she came to identify the person.

"Amari!" she huffed, her annoyance growing in line with his laughter. "What's wrong with you? Don't do that!" She turned away from him as she made her way towards the kitchen aisle, dropping them by her laptop.

Amari followed in suit as his hands covered his face, voice coming through a bit raspy at the fact that he had recently woken up, and it was clear with the presence of his striped nightwear. "I'm sorry, my bad," he removed his hands over his face so he could see Kyrie, and once he did, a familiar smirk fell upon his lips. "I see you, Kyrie. Trying to look all smart for your first day at work."

She sported an attire of a black and white checkered sweater and a white dress shirt with the collar on for display; black jeans along with all-black Jordans. While Kyrie definitely was one to come through as professional to others, she didn't have to demonstrate it at all times, especially because she worked in the field of sports so people didn't think much of her style because she got the job done to their standards. Not to mention, she worked with players who they themselves may have designed sports shoes, so who were they to judge her?

"Thank you, I guess," she muttered as she rolled her eyes. After retrieving a fork from one of the drawers, she returned back to her place by the kitchen aisle. "And if you mean to say the first day of work for the season then sure." It was only early September meaning the football season had already begun, but it was still in its early stages so players were adjusting to back to back matches again and clubs were attempting to elevate their performance from the previous season.