This is gonna sound a little obsessive...

'get out. you know you shouldn't be here. it's been six months-'

'wow. six months already. guess time flies when you're having fun'

'this is your idea of fun, is it? getting kicked out of clubs and tattooing my name on your ass while you were drunk?'

'who told you that? every time i fucked one of your teammates i told them to keep that a secret'

'my teammates kept your secret just fine. your teammates, however-'

'ah, you could not get off with my team unless you were talking about my ass. i am flattered, hollander'

'i couldn't get off at all, actually. whole team had this sad vibe to it. it's hard to be sexy when you haven't made the playoffs since hockey was invented'

'the sad vibe was because they missed me. you see, i was busy marrying sveta in las vegas'

'i know. it was before our divorce officially came through. i've reported you for bigamy and they're gonna revoke your citizenship'

'jesus christ shane'

'sorry was that too much'

'no, is fine. i will hide from immigration with these nice people i have formed a throuple with. you might know them, they are called yuna and david-'

Parent: (to child) "Sorry, I can't bring you to the protest. The protest will have police there. Police are very evil people. Imagine the evilest person you can. The police are many times worse. If they're able to hurt you, they will. They've proven it many times. They openly brag about it. Society would be a much better place if police didn't exist. But unfortunately for decent people everywhere, they exist, so we must be careful."

Police: "How dare you! You hurt my feelings! Waaaaaaaaah! This is a hate crime of the worst kind!"

Holly Mop who was beside me in bed got up and trotted into my office. Came back into the bedroom and very daintily spat out a single potato chip.

Which has revealed two things:

A) that she does understand more of what I’m saying, and in true Shih Tzu fashion,chooses not to listen and

B) there’s a stash of stale potato chips somewhere in my office I’ll need to find tomorrow.

Emphasis on tomorrow

I am Thinking so many uncouth Thoughts

This gorgeous man✨

One bottle. 

That is how much wine Shane is going to limit everyone to from now on.

Because right now, sitting in his living room with three very wine-drunk individuals, he is about three seconds away from exploding with embarrassment.

Well. At least a very red-faced Ilya looks like he is having the time of his life.

"Okay, okay, okay, I need to know," Rose Landry says, slurring her words a little and waving her hands wildly to Svetlana, who is sprawled across a couch. "Rozanov. Is he really as good as everyone says?"

"Rose!" Shane hisses at her, scandalized.

Ilya looks like Christmas has come early.

"You could at least ask me! His husband!" Shane continues, annoyed.

But Rose scoffs. "You're in love with him, babe, of course you'll say he's fabulous. I need real answers. For…science."

All eyes go to Svetlana, who is grinning. "He is...very good, yes. Takes direction well. Can...find important places well enough, if you know what I am saying. I would recommend to a friend."

Rose giggles, Ilya beams, and Shane furrows his eyebrows. "Find...what the fuck?" he mutters, looking over at Ilya.

This, for some reason, makes Svetlana giggle. "Ah, poor Rose. Hollander is not as good at hide-and-seek as his husband, hm?"

Shane is still bewildered while Ilya is laughing so hard that tears are streaming from his eyes. 

"Honestly, he tried very hard!" Rose answers in a voice that suggests she's sticking up for Shane, and he can't help but feel thankful even though he's utterly lost. "Like...you know! Most men don't even care. He...made an effort!"

But Shane's not stupid enough to take this as a compliment. "Jesus, glowing review, Rose," he mumbles, covering his face with his hands.

Ilya finally finds his voice. "I do not know what you are talking about, Rose Landry," he says through laughter. "Hollander and I have never had these problems. I wonder what difference is?"

Everyone laughs again–even Shane gives a reluctant chuckle. 

It's not until about an hour–and another bottle of wine between them–later that it hits him.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, leaning into Ilya and blushing red.

"What, malysh?"