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    Summary

    “Nice towel.” Shane took a brief look down for the first time in what seemed like forever, a rapid blush forming as he realized he was using the one J.J. got him as a gag gift last Christmas. The one that said ‘Hockey moms, we're not afraid to drop gloves’ in bold black lettering.

    Shane wanted the ground to swallow him up.

    “Uh,” Shane helpfully replied, his thoughts turning to mush that he so eloquently verbalized.

    “See you around Hollander,” Marleau chuckled lightly, giving Rozanov a friendly slap to the back of his helmet as he made his way down the hall. Rozanov lingered, just a second longer, smirking as he turned to follow Marlow.

    “Bye Shane Hollander.” the presumably-- no definitely-- Russian man responded, voice carrying down the hall.

    “Bye.” Shane whispered, blinking rapidly as he watched the two figures retreat down the hall to the elevator.

    -----
    [Alternatively titled: The one where Shane doesn't need saving, until he does.]

    Language:
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    Words:
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    Chapters:
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