“Rooney?” She finally notices the brittle edge in my voice. Staring out to the field, Rooney narrows her eyes and takes a longer look. “Wait, is that…holy shit. Holy. Shit.” I can’t even manage a nod of agreement. “Okay, I’m going to, uh…I’m going to go check my ingrown toenail. I’ll hang back here.” “Thanks,” I mutter.
