Flashes. Vigilant eyes. Speculation. Those are the characteristic the Welsh Wizard of the Right Wing can swimmingly notice as he steps into the press room, a meeting arranged by he himself, not out of any supercilious idea, to promote the team, to sign disabled fans' t-shirts without any actual will like so many did. No, it was bigger than that, it was better than that. So many people, so much potential tamed due to something as ridiculous as war, dreams shattered as poverty spreads. Step after step, tough build, swift movements, even faster perception. What the media savvied so far? It was a message to mutant-kind, to all those hopeless motherless children within the globe and, mostly, Venezuela.
Sluggishly edging his lips into an amicable simper and releasing a parched chortle, he drew the whole attention to his person. Even the silence could be hearkened in the first seconds, until he cleared his throat and smiled once again, gazing deeply into the camera. "Primarily, I would like to welcome all to this interview. But, honestly, we should skip pleasantries, you seem eager to know what I called all these reporters for, huh?" His grin widens. "I come here to send a message, not to King Xenon, not to the extremists, but to every mutant out there. So much hate because you're different that people forget the basic. They forget you have sentiments, that you have a life and, if possible, would enjoy a common existence. They forget you have potential, that you have dreams and delusions, that you have a reason to smile and thousands to cry and mourn. This war is only proof..."
He adopted a more serious countenance, measuring well his words and tone of voice. "Proof that happiness isn't among most Venezuelan dictionaries. And while you established a safe haven, I believe there is much more to be done. And, with the support of King Xenon, I plan to bring a few smiles to your homes. Obviously, it isn't something good as peace, and might even seem ridiculous coming from a football player, but..." He sighed. Was that the right step? Would that rekindle any spark of hope? "I want to announce that I have been working on a project, scheming a few new rules, tracing new lines to football itself, to bring a bit of what the world from inside a pitch is to Venezuela. The Mutant Football League!" He frowned."I-I know it's not much, but it's all I can do apart from donating and praying for a brighter future... I don't know how harsh it must be to hold so much power..." A lie spat into the microphone once again. "But I know how joyful a match can be."
Expeditiously raising from his seat, he beckoned toward his question-filled audience. "Thank you for your attention, ladies and gentlemen. Have a nice afternoon."
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