Footsteps moved through the administration block at a brisk pace rather than urgently.
A moment later, the liaison made the last turn down the corridor before stopping at the door at the end of it.
He knocked twice.
"Come in," Dawson said from the other side, prompting the liaison to open the door.
After entering, the liaison found Dawson and Nolan, standing over a model-sized replica of the DW pitch that had been set up across the main table with papers spread around a sort of chaos that only the one who did it would appreciate.
On the model sat small plastic coins across the pitch surface, each one marked with a player's name, and from the way they were arranged, it looked less like a finished idea and more like an argument that hadn't been resolved yet.
Neither of them looked up immediately.
The liaison crossed the room and stopped at the edge of the table before they finally acknowledged his presence.
"Gaffer," he said, and then he turned slightly. "Nolan."
