Summary:

“The fuck are you wearing, Roz?” Ilya jerked his head up and turned around. Cliff Marleau was staring at him with a puzzled expression. “A t-shirt, Marly,” Ilya said. “You’ve heard of them?” “Why the fuck are you wearing a Metros shirt though?” Marleau crossed his arms across his chest. What? Ilya was about to retort, something about Marleau taking too many hits to the head, but when he glanced down, he was surprised, then horrified to see the red and blue Montreal Metros logo in the dead centre of his white shirt. Shane’s white shirt. Fuck.