Up in the VIP lounges, Hori leaned forward in her seat, elbows on her knees, eyes fixed on the pitch as the teams settled into their positions.
The noise around them pressed in from every side, chants bouncing off concrete and steel, but she barely seemed to notice, mainly because she had on that scrutinising look of hers before she shook her head once, sharp and irritated.
"Someone on Liverpool's sporting side should be fired," she said flatly.
Miranda turned toward her, one eyebrow lifting.
"That's a strong start for a game that hasn't even begun. Fired for what, exactly?"
Hori didn't answer straight away.
She tipped her chin toward the pitch, where Izan stood among his teammates, waiting for the whistle.
"For that," she said.
Then she exhaled, as if she'd been holding it in for a while.
