“Wow,” he says, “they really hate each other.” We both look over to where Lawson is standing, arms crossed, arguing with Nico Mackenzie. They’re on the far end of the ice, over by one of the goals. We can’t hear their words, but it hardly matters. They’ve been arguing about everything, all day. If Lawson says the sky is blue, Mackenzie says it’s grey and off they go.
