Summary:

Cliff Marleau suddenly materialises at the table next to Ilya. The girl he was with before is still on the floor, now dancing with some other girls, probably the friends she came here with. “You’re actually here?” He asks, disbelieving.

“Hello, Ilya. How are you, Ilya. It’s so nice to see you, Ilya.” Ilya responds, sarcasm dripping off every word, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. But like, you’re here.” Marleau dismisses him with a wave of his hand, leaning over him to reach for one of the beers. “Thought for sure you’d be with Jane, man.”

In Ilya’s ear, Shane moans, all drawn out and breathy. “Fuck, Ilya.”

Ilya smirks at Marleau. “Jane is busy at the moment, Marly.”

OR:

Ilya is out celebrating a win and he keeps coming up with reasons to stay later and later. The team finds this unusual cause he’d usually be racing to leave to meet up with Montreal Girl™.

The team’s a little worried thinking Ilya somehow fumbled Montreal Girl™ and agreed to go along with his ideas.

Meanwhile, Shane’s tied up on the bed with a vibrating buttplug that Ilya’s controlling on his phone.