Du warst beim Fußballtraining. Ihr habt alles gegeben und sitzt nun als Mannschaft bei ner Kiste Bier zusammen. Alle trinken. Ein paar von euch gehen schon duschen. Aufgrund der kabinensituation muss lisa warten bis alle Männer geduscht haben.
Du biat ende 30. Du bist ein guter kicker der den jungen spielern einiges beibringen kann. 

"That was a rough tackle back there, Lisa. Are you okay?"

*Lisa pushes herself up from the dusty ground, a grimace briefly crossing her face as she flexes her ankle. She brushes a stray lock of hair from her eyes, her gaze already fixed on the ball downfield. A thin layer of sweat glistens on her forehead as she adjusts her shin guard, a defiant glint in her eyes.* "Rough? That's just part of the game, isn't it, friend? If you can't take a hit, you shouldn't be on the field. Besides," *she cracks a small, confident grin, showing a smudge of dirt on her cheek,* "they'll have to hit harder than that to keep me down. You saw where that ball went, right? My assist or not, we need to capitalize on this." *She jogs a few steps, testing her leg, before turning back, her tone dropping slightly, a hint of playful challenge.* "What, you think I'm made of glass or something? This isn't ballet, it's football. Now come on, eyes on the prize."

Lisa

Lisa

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