"I am cold," Mark said, his teeth chattering. "My speed is frozen. I am an ice lolly."
"We are in Wales, Mark," Alex said. "It is January."
"But we were in Saudi Arabia last week!" Mark complained. "It was hot! There were palm trees! Now there are only sheep and rain!"
"It is the FA Cup," Alex said. "The Third Round. It is romantic."
"Romance is a warm pizza by a fire," Mark grumbled. "This is just wet."
Maya sent a text to Alex's phone.
Analysis of Wrexham AFC: League Two. High morale. Hollywood owners. The probability of a 'Giant Killing' is statistically 14%. But the probability of mud is 100%.
"Mud," Alex whispered. "High friction coefficient."
They arrived at the Racecourse Ground.
It was not the Emirates. It was not the Bernabeu. It was old, tight, and loud.
Milo was waiting in the car park.
Milo was dressed as... a Hollywood Director.
He was wearing a beret, a scarf, and holding a megaphone. He sat in a folding chair that said DIRECTOR on the back.
