They talked about everything and nothing.
About the hotel food, which Chloé judged to be "underground-level decent, but the fries were a bit soft." About the Underground elevators, which went way too fast. About the time Nash had gotten lost on his way to hangar 47. About Snow, who snored while traveling, and Rain, who didn't snore, didn't talk, and yet still got listened to by everyone the moment people realized he was speaking. Chloé laughed a lot, and she said "sorry" every time she laughed too loud.
Nash let it happen. He was sitting on the floor, back against the armchair, with a girl who was saying whatever came to mind and hugging his jersey like a stuffed animal.
"And the match tonight," he said, snatching one last fry from Chloé's plate. "How did you see it?"
"Magnificent." She smiled, then added, in a casual tone: "Even though Jaz's right foot is a little sore. She wasn't planting it as flat in the second quarter."
Nash stopped chewing.
"…Seriously? You noticed that?"
