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It was a normal day in the G2 gaming house, that is if any day could be called normal. Grabbz sighed as he watched his players scrim their main rivals, Fnatic. If anything the best of five series shouldn't be called scrims, more appropriately an absolute clown fiesta that yielded no valuable information. Though Fabian had met with the new analyst Luci and general manager Oliver to try to explain to them how the players acted far too often he could tell that his words did not really sink in until today. Luci currently had her head in her hands and was rocking herself gently back and forth while Oliver looked like you had killed Roxy in front of him. Then there was Duffman, the only other G2 veteran in this room, who was currently glancing between Luci and the screen where they were spectating the game with an increasing frequency. Panic was written all over his face and it looked like he might bolt from the room dragging Luci behind him.
Fabian’s train of thought was interrupted by the sound of fists slamming into a desk. Marcin yelled a mishmash of Polish and English curse words and not even Luka dared to tell him to calm down this time. Yep, just another day, Fabian thought. Of course their first day back in scrims would be against Fnatic.
To be fair the day hadn’t started off that badly. The boys were up pretty early around 8:30, well we are talking about gamers here, and happily chatting with each other when Fabian and the others arrived at the gaming house. With her dark hair pulled back into a simple ponytail and the new G2 sweater Luci looked like she would fit right in while the rest looked like they usually do in a t-shirt and jeans. Welcome to esports, where no one wears business casual unless forced to for the broadcast.
Miky had gotten up a bit early and made people his famous eggs not to mention Marcin made a big kettle of his favorite tea. Considering how stingy the Polish man normally was with his tea his spirits had to be soaring. Thought outsiders might think that Martin was cold and distant the Danish man started a joke telling competition this morning with Marcin and Rasmus. Currently the Polish man was trying to make a joke about perogies and an old man. The new ad carry was trying to school his face into a neutral expression but the left side of his lips kept quirking up into a lopsided grin. Martin was able to keep a straight expression though his blue eyes glinted a hint of mischief.
A loud bang came from Marcin’s fist hitting the table and the crazed blond leaned in, lowering his voice to a stage whisper. With a pause between each word he said, “‘Hands off, they’re for the funeral,’ she said.” He looked at his teammates, his eyes wide and mouth open in a smile.
“That’s such a stupid joke.” Luka was blunt per usual luckily everyone knew by now to not take what he said personally. “I’m honestly so tilted right now.” His next breath hissed as he breathed in and rubbed his blue eyes.
“It’s wasn’t that bad,” Miky said in his matter of fact way. His hickory brown hair was still tousled from sleep and he had patchy stubble on his chin. Luka cleared his throat like he was going to say more but with a look from Fabian didn’t.
“Hello everyone,” Fabian said. “I hope you’re ready for our first day of scrims. I have heard that you guys tend to not take your brains with you into scrims with Fnatic but I hope this time you do. I can’t have you all share one brain cell this time. I already have too main gray hairs as it is.”
“He’s right,” Christopher said running a hand through his short chocolate brown hair. “You guys need to remember that these are scrims not a game of who can feed Rekkles the most. Please, this is Luci’s first day here as an analyst.”
Something in his gut told Fabian that despite their pleas nothing would change. Honestly sometimes when he looked at his smug mid laner’s face he really did feel terrible.
The boys stuck to their resolve to not play like monkeys through the first champ select. Honestly the fact that they even made it through champ select was a testament to how much they wanted to impress Oliver and Luci. But as soon as the game started and all chat was used by players who shall not be named any hope that Fabian had of getting something useful out of this best of five went away.
His notebook was open in his hand with the pen nestled between the pages. Running a hand through his dark hair he sighed and closed the notebook, putting it on his desk. His face was a mixture of disappointment, slightly overwhelmed, and a hint bafflement. Anyone who followed G2 knew that expression and it got people writing him pity comments all too often. If he really hated his job he could just quit but these were his boy. His band of monkeys to try to tame. He felt a profound and sometimes exasperating fondness for them all save for one rather loud member.
It wasn’t too long after their best of five that Luka was seen typing away on his phone. Fabian’s phone lit up with an alert showing a new tweet from his new-old mid laner. Of course that arrogant Croatian was trash talking after that disastrous result. He wasn’t sure Rasmus going 0/16 counted as smashing Rekkles, maybe smashing into Rekkles and getting pulverized. The slight pain from pinching the bridge of his nose while taking a few deep breaths helped to center him for half a second before he was interrupted by Luka walking by laughing at something Martin said. That deep laugh that kept on going undid him and unfortunately he was lost in the stormy sea that was G2 again.
“Was that really necessary Luka?” asked an untethered Fabian. “Trash talking on Twitter?”
“Of course,” Luka replied with his signature grin. Today was an awful day. When Fabian looked into his smug mid laner’s face he only felt that awful mix of disappointment and exasperation that would follow him throughout this new year.