While half of DRC’s locker room has spent the week trading theories about Maurice Green’s still-unnamed “force of nature,” Adam Currin has mostly been trading punches with a heavy bag and not much interest in either.

“Force of nature, earthquake, whatever the GM’s calling it this week,” Currin said, belt still looped through his hand from a training session. “Nice words. Doesn’t hit any harder than the last new guy I met, and that one’s still figuring out how his jaw works.” He shrugged. “I don’t pick sides and I don’t pick fights before I have to. When they show up, they show up. I’ll be here.”

It’s the same shrug that’s carried Currin through DRC’s build-up so far — unbothered, unaligned, and entirely too relaxed for a promotion two weeks from its first night.