Rose and Shane are having their cute little getting to know each other chat. The vibes are good, the conversation is flowing, and Shane hasn't thought about ilya in like ten minutes (thinking about how he's not thinking about Ilya doesn't actually count as thinking about him, right? It's a grey area). The lights are all warm and intimate, and this place is swanky enough that they've clearly got some kind of noise suppression going on so the conversations at the other tables sound all muffled and far away. It's like he and Rose are in their own private bubble.
Once, Shane had to have a bucket of ice water poured over his head. It was for some charity thing the league had organised, Shane's fuzzy on the details now, but he knows there's a video out there somewhere of him soaked and spluttering, still shocked by the cold, even when he'd been braced for it.
Hearing Ilya's voice, cutting clear through the warm atmosphere, feels like that: like a sheet of ice water that Shane wasn't braced for.
Ilya's smile is all white teeth. "Hollander, you are not going to introduce me? I am hurt."
Shane feels paralyzed. Ilya's presence at his side feels gargantuan, impossible to ignore, like the suffuse heat radiating off a brick wall. But he can't turn his neck to look at him.
Distantly, Shane hears Rose introduce herself.
"Rose Landry, yes. I've seen your movie, the ah one with all the explosions. Ilya Rozanov."
"Oh, I know who you are."
Ilya has placed a casual hand on the back of Shane's seat. He's not touching him, but the small hairs on the back of Shane's neck stand up anyway. Shane becomes newly aware of his breathing, chest expanding in out in out. "Ah, I see. Hollander has already told you all about me. Only good things, yes?"
Rose's laughter is light. "No, I'm from a hockey town. Your name is anathema in my household."
Ilya cocks his head - Shane can just make out the movement in his peripherals. "But not Shane Hollander's? This is surprising, Rose - you do not look like a woman with bad taste. Hollander," and Shane almost jumps at being addressed, instinctively, stupidly turns to look up at Ilya who - who's getting closer, "move over, I need to ahh... Plead my case."
And suddenly Shane is in a booth, sitting across from a beautiful woman who he actually enjoys talking to, with Ilya Rozanov's body pressed up against his side, a constant burning brand; pretending to follow along with the conversation while his whole body is slowly being corroded by acid.
"So the rivalry thing," Rose says, because of course she'd bring it up of course. "You guys just play it up for the cameras, right?"
When Ilya speaks, Shane can feel his words reverberating through his body into his own. "Ahh, We give the press their sound bites, mess around on the ice sometimes, but it's all in good fun. Besides," and then Ilya is turning to look at Shane, and his eyes are burning burning burning, like he's on fire too, "I know Hollander loves me."