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Summary
He picks up his phone instinctually. He opens his texts with Rozanov. He sits there staring at the “Next time?” and wonders what the fuck his plan is. Send Rosanov an apology? A plea? An invitation? Really? He sucks at sexting and finds it hardly appropriate in this moment. His fingers move across the keypad anyway.
Or, Shane and Ilya can't help but meet up after fighting on the balcony in Vegas.
