"Show me," Antoine said. "This... 'fake fake' move. Mark told me it is stupid. But it works."
Alex felt a small bead of sweat. "I... I cannot show you, Antoine."
Antoines smile faded. "No?"
"It is not my move," Alex explained, his analyst brain trying to find the right words. "It is a package. I am just the 'Brain'. I need the 'Speed'. I need... I need Mark."
Antoine was silent for a moment. Then he just laughed. A big, warm, rolling laugh.
"A package! Yes! I love this!" he said, his French accent making it sound like music. "Okay, Professor. Go get your Speed. I will wait. Go."
Alex almost ran. He felt like he was on a secret mission. He left the first team building, ran across the perfect grass, and went back to the U21 locker room.
He found Mark. Mark was in the corner, at his tiny "new kid" locker. He was not sulking. He was polishing his new silver boots. He was polishing them so hard Alex thought he was trying to start a fire.
"Mark," Alex said.
