After the quarter-hour break had passed, the players of both sides walked back out together as the tunnel opened them up to the pitch again.
The moment they stepped out, all could see that the grass looked darker now and heavier.
The floodlights caught the first flecks of rain as they drifted down, barely more than a mist, but enough to change the air.
Leo stepped onto the turf and felt it immediately under his studs, that slight give that told you the surface was starting to get slick.
Ezra, in a puffer jacket, slowed beside him and tilted his head back, eyes following the sky.
"Of course," he muttered. "Just our luck."
His breath fogged faintly as he spoke, a thin cloud that vanished as quickly as it came while Leo hummed to his words.
He then tugged his gloves tighter, one finger at a time, then reached down to pull the collar of the white under-compression shirt higher against his neck.
The fabric sat snug beneath his jersey, already damp where the rain had kissed it.
