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    Summary

    Ilya stood there nervously, waiting for Shane’s lectures to start raining down. Making sure Ilya knew how important these brand deals were, and how it showed that he was dedicated to his game. He was used to the routine, it wasn’t the first time around.

    But with Rozanov’s confession, silence followed instead. Shane had a different look in his eye, not his usual puppy eyes that Rozanov loved. His eyes almost darkened, the sides of his mouth threatening a smirk.

    Shane held Ilya’s chin with two fingers, lifting his head up as to inspect his face.
    “Je suis déçu.” He dragged his words out slowly, I’m disappointed.

    Or,

    Shane has had enough of Ilya's grumpy Russian mumbling after a small argument, and decides to flip the narrative. Wrapping Ilya around his finger from a couple, simple French words.

    Language:
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