The referee’s whistle came fifteen minutes later, and the broadcast settled into its closing summary with the scoreboard sitting in the corner of the screen doing its quiet confirming work.

AC Milan 2 — Wigan Athletic 3.

Giroud had pulled one back with a header in the final stretch, rising above everyone and everything in the box to push it into the back of the net and for a spell afterwards, Wigan had defended with the compact determination of a side that knew what it had and intended to keep it.

At the end, they had kept it.

"Full time here at the San Siro," the commentator said. "

And I’ll say what needs to be said plainly. Pre-season or not, Wigan Athletic have won here tonight. Against AC Milan, at the Giuseppe Meazza, with a starting eleven whose average age would make your eyes water."

"All I can say is that Dawson’s side are going to be something this season. I don’t know exactly what yet. But something."

On the pitch, Leo had walked toward the section where the Inter supporters had congregated, and his teammates followed without being asked, and for a few minutes the strange alliance of the evening was acknowledged properly, handshakes over the advertising boards as well as nods and the expression of two sides that had enjoyed the unexpected company of each other.

The Inter fans gave them a send-off that the actual occasion had never promised, and the Wigan players accepted it with genuine appreciation before turning toward the tunnel.

An hour later, on the balcony of the hotel room, Leo had his phone propped against the vase on the table and on the screen was Vittoria.

She had been talking for several minutes, ranting about the game and everything, all while Leo watched her with a smile and let her go.

She paused eventually, slightly breathless, and looked at the screen properly.

"How did you even know where to look?" she said. "I told you I was going to sit with the fans."

Leo laughed at that, which irked Vittoria a bit, but she wanted to hear the answer.

"You’re not built for that kind of crowd."

"Excuse me."

"You swapped it for the VIP area within the first ten minutes, didn’t you?"

"No, I didn’t," Vittoria raised her voice a bit.

"I waited till half time," she continued, before covering her mouth after realising she’d ousted herself.

"You’re lucky Gianna had those tickets sorted in advance," Leo said while Vittoria brought her hand away from her mouth, her eyebrow going up.

"Is that why we got in so easily?"

She thought about it for a second.

"I genuinely thought the staff had fallen for my charms."

At that, Leo broke into another fit of laughter while she watched him laugh.

"Your laugh is getting annoying now," she said as Leo raised his hand, apologising.

"So," he said as she pressed her lips together.

"What did you think?" he asked, "About the little stunt?"

At that, Vittoria looked away from the screen as a smirk came to her face that she was clearly not trying very hard to contain.

Before Leo could catch it, she fell back onto her bed, still wearing it, while the camera pointed briefly at the ceiling before she held it back above her face.

"It was okay," she said.

"I’ll give you a pass. For now."

Leo nodded slowly, smiling.

"So," he said.

"What will my girlfriend be doing tomorrow?"

The word landed, and Vittoria went still for a second, and then something warm moved through her expression as she sat back up.

"Are you not leaving tomorrow?" she said.

"We were supposed to," Leo said.

"But the game with Tottenham got cancelled, so now the club is looking for something else to fill the gap. That’s going to take a while to sort." He leaned against the railing.

"Which means free days."

"How many?"

"Enough."

Vittoria looked at the screen.

"Are you going to spend your free days on me?" she said.

"Why not," Leo said. "If I can spend time with my girlfriend."

He said the word again with the same deliberate emphasis, and Vittoria made a sound that was somewhere between protest and pleasure, squirming slightly with a smile that she was pointing at the duvet rather than the camera.

"Stop saying it like that," she said.

"Like what?"

"You know, like what?"

She looked back up at the screen and then said, "I’m going to be free tomorrow," with the air of someone making a casual observation that had nothing to do with what had just been said.

"Good," Leo said as he heard footsteps at the door behind him and turned his head.

"I have to go, alright. I’ll call you later," he said to the screen.

"Okay," Vittoria said softly, and it was the last thing he heard as the call clicked off.

He came back inside from the balcony, and Jake was already through the door, arms full, wearing the expression of a man who had solved a problem.

Two brown paper bags and the particular smell of fast food that had been carried through a hotel corridor filled the room immediately.

Fries sat visibly at the top of one bag, while the corner of a burger wrapper showed at the other end with what appeared to be onion rings somewhere in the middle of it all.

Dawson had given them the concession with the understanding that dinner was still happening, and this was a bridge and not a replacement, which everyone had agreed to, but nobody was fully honouring.

Jake set the bags on the small table and dropped into the chair beside it before reaching in without ceremony.

He handed one of the bags across to Leo without looking up, already unwrapping it.

Leo took it and sat down on the edge of the bed before opening it.

And for a while, the duo sat in silence, quietly devouring their food.