Out of the view of Dawson, Leo stepped into the departures hall, the low hum of morning travel immediately swallowing him.
Rolling suitcases clicked over tiles, coffee machines hissed somewhere to his left, and a tinny voice echoed overhead, announcing another flight to Lisbon.
He paused for a moment, scanning the crowd, faces half-hidden by caps, masks, and hoods, families, business travellers, kids clutching plush toys, trying to spot the player he'd been told he was flying with.
A name had been mentioned somewhere in the email from the Italian FA, but right now, he couldn't remember it.
He checked again, eyes flicking across the hall, but nothing.
No sign of anyone familiar or even remotely footballer-looking.
He sighed, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.
Maybe he's running late.
Either way, they were both supposed to take the same shuttle to the training camp after landing in Fiumicino.
They'd eventually meet there.
