Summary:

"Typical dirty Americans," Rozanov said. He took the pitcher and started pouring water into the four glasses. "You wear your shoes indoors and then you want to fuck someone else's husband and then you expect him to sleep in the same filthy sheets."

Scott opened his mouth to retort back, but Rozanov, the gracious host, was handing him a cold glass of water. "Well, we will all get very dirty together tonight," he continued. "Shane, my sweetheart, you are outnumbered. Better hydrate."

Hollander drank obediently. Needing something to do with his hands, Scott sipped his water, too. Kip traced circles lightly along his back. The silence that felt so pleasant outside by the fire now settled heavily over them. Scott cleared his throat. "So," he said. "What are we doing?"

Rozanov looked at him like he was stupid. "Is it not obvious? We are going to run a train on my husband."