Before Mount could reply, Bruno Fernandes jogged over, clapping his hands once, sharply, to draw their attention.
"Forget the noise," Bruno said firmly, lowering his voice but not his intensity. "Forget the crowd. Forget him."
He jerked his chin vaguely toward the stands.
"It doesn't matter if Lukas Brandt is on the pitch or sitting up there eating popcorn," Bruno continued. "If we do our job, we're the ones going to the final. But only if we stay calm."
Mount nodded immediately. "Yeah."
Garnacho straightened, rolling his shoulders. "They're trying to get into our heads."
"And they will," Bruno replied, eyes scanning the stadium one last time. "That's what this place does. But pressure only works if you accept it. We don't."
He clapped again, louder this time. "Sharp touches. Quick passes. Trust each other. We've been here before."
A whistle sounded from the coaching staff, calling the players back toward the tunnel.
