"Where's the tape?"
"Why are you always asking where the tape is?"
"I think I left my boots at the hotel!"
Amidst the ruckus, Ronaldo let the tablet he had been holding onto a while ago settle onto the wooden bench beside him, but his eyes never left it as he slipped on a pair of socks.
On the device, journalists continued firing questions while on the opposite end, Izan answered them, almost looking like he was a bit fed up with how repetitive things were getting.
He had been watching for a few minutes and a moment later, he reached over and pressed the screen dark.
He'd seen enough.
The dressing room around him was rowdy to say the least, and he couldn't tell if it was as a result of the players trying to mask their nervousness or because they were genuinely unbothered by the fight ahead.
With a sigh, Ronaldo focused on getting ready.
One by one, Portugal's players changed into their warm-up kit, all while keeping up their conversations.
