The players were bunched, scattered in no particular order, chatting in short bursts or just staring out into the glowing bowl of the Etihad.
Out first came Jurrien Timber, bouncing slightly on his heels, his fingers twitching with readiness.
He squinted into the lights above the pitch, then turned back to slap hands with Declan Rice, who emerged with an elastic stretch of his arms and a grin that was more a grimace.
Behind them, Izan Hernandez stepped out.
Focused. Head lowered slightly. Hands on his hips.
The crowd volume surged just as his boots touched the turf again, waves of booing from the City fans who had just endured a first-half masterclass at their team's expense.
He barely flinched.
Beside him, Saka jogged out and nudged his shoulder with a grin.
"You hear that?"
Izan smirked.
"Music."
City's squad followed, much less vocal.
