Pietro's name sat near the top of his recent calls.
A few seconds later, the screen lit up with Pietro's face, hair messy, sitting in what looked like his kitchen.
"I knew it," Pietro said, grinning before Izan could even speak.
"You saw it, didn't you?"
Izan couldn't help but laugh, covering his face briefly.
"You've been waiting for this call, huh?"
"Of course," Pietro said, leaning closer to the screen with that smug look that had gotten him in trouble more than once.
"Figured you'd have something to say about your old man finally getting his flowers."
"Old man? Can't you stop with that act already? You're three years older, not thirty," Izan said, shaking his head.
"And wipe that smirk off your face before I hang up."
Pietro laughed, the sound warm and careless.
"Hey, you should be proud. You trained with greatness. I'm about to be Premier League royalty."
Izan rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide the grin tugging at his mouth.
