Summary:

He’s almost at his own door when the muffled sound of his own name catches his attention. “ —like an idiot. Scott Hunter is right next door.” Scott pauses, blinking. He then finds himself unconsciously stepping towards the door his name was uttered behind— before he abruptly freezes, eyes locking on the room number. It’s the room directly next to his own. The one Rozanov had walked out of just this morning. But that voice… it’s vaguely familiar, and it certainly doesn’t belong to Rozanov. Or: Scott Hunter has the unfortunate experience of rooming next to Ilya Rozanov at the 2011 All-Stars.