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Summary
“You have a ride back home, right? Please tell me you aren’t going to drive. You’ll crash one of your stupid sports cars and get a concussion. Or die.”
“Awe, so sweet to me, worrying. But no, I am in Moscow. I have no good cars here, only shitty Marussia B2. Stupid purchase. You know, the B2 is just B1 but with fancier clothes? Look better than B1, though. B1 look like low-money 80’s future movie.” He makes an annoyed sound. “No. I do not have word. научная фантастика. What is movie type that has flying cars?”
“Jesus,” Shane says, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk so much.”
“You like my voice, da? So is no problem, for you.”
“Fuck you. Do you mean sci-fi?”
Rozanov makes a triumphant sound. “Yes, that! Sci-fi. B1 look like that meme of a cat’s face covered in cream. Ugly car. So, at least I have better choice. I can look at it and not wish to drive it off cliff and into garbage land.”
“...You’re thinking of a landfill.”
Or, Ilya keeps calling Shane at odd hours to talk about nothing and everything. Shane, for some reason he can’t quite rationalize, keeps answering. And texting. And then things get a bit out of hand.
Series
- Part 1 of Hello/Goodbye, Dear/Sincerely Universe