Summary:

“You have problem, you bring it to me,” Rozanov growled. “Not him. Me. I am not so easy of a target, not like boring Canadians. And you keep that shit off the ice. Chirping, yes, fine. Not that. Never that. You are older than the game of hockey, should understand difference by now.”

Canadians?

“Wait,” Scott said slowly. “Is this about what I said to Hollander the other day?”

—
Or: Scott has no idea why Ilya Rozanov suddenly showed up in New York itching for a fight, but he knows it can’t be good.