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"Shane," Ilya said.
Shane didn't look up. He knew that tone. It was the tone Ilya used when he was about to present a "fact" that he had almost certainly manufactured within the last ninety seconds. "If this is about the Uber Eats driver you tried to fight this morning, I’m still on the driver’s side. You can't park on the sidewalk, Rozy."
"This is not about the car. The car is a masterpiece of parking," Ilya brushed him off, stepping into Shane’s line of sight. "This is about the crisis. The global catastrophe, Shane."
Shane finally looked up, squinting. "The global catastrophe?"
"The water drought in California," Ilya said, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial stage whisper. He gestured vaguely toward the ceiling "It is dire. The Earth is parched."
Shane blinked, slowly. He took a pointed look toward the window at the far end of the room, where a fresh Canadian blizzard was currently dumping another six inches of snow onto the Ottawa streets.
"Ilya, we are in Canada," Shane said, his voice flat. "There is literally a mountain of frozen water blocking the exit to the parking lot. California’s plumbing has nothing to do with us."
"You are so narrow-minded. This is why they made me the captain," Ilya sighed, leaning his hip against Shane’s locker and crossing his massive, tattooed arms. "The water tables, Hollander. They are connected like the interstate. If California is thirsty, Ottawa must bleed. We have a moral obligation to the planet."
Shane stood up, pulling his jersey over his head and tossing it into the laundry bin. He stood a fraction taller than Ilya, but Ilya didn't budge an inch, his jaw set in that particular way that meant he was fully committed to the bit.
"And let me guess," Shane said, reaching for his towel. "Your grand plan to save the California citrus farmers involves us sharing a shower stall meant for one person."
"It is the only logical conclusion," Ilya said, nodding fervently. "We save fifty percent of the output. If the whole team did this, we would save a lake by Tuesday. Why do you hate the environment, Shane? Why do you want the trees to die?"
"I don't hate the trees, I just value my personal space and the fact that you take up eighty percent of any room you enter." Shane started walking toward the back of the locker room, his gait heavy with the exhaustion of a three-hour practice. "Where did you even get this? You haven't looked at a newspaper since 2014."
"I read it on my phone! Just now!" Ilya followed him, his voice echoing off the tile of the shower entrance. "It was a very official notification. Emergency alert said 'Ilya,' it said, 'the water is disappearing. Tell the beautiful man you married to stop being so selfish with the showerhead.'"
Shane stopped at the edge of the communal shower area, turning back with a skeptical brow arched. "A personalized emergency alert. Right. Okay, show me. Show me the notification from the City of Ottawa—or the Governor of California—requesting our cooperation."
He held out his hand, palm up.
Ilya stopped dead. He looked at Shane’s open palm, then looked at the showers, then looked back at Shane. His expression shifted instantly from "concerned citizen" to "man who has never seen technology before."
"What phone?" Ilya asked, his voice suddenly light and airy, his eyes widening with feigned innocence. "I do not have a phone. I have never seen such a device. What is this... 'phone' you speak of?"
Shane stared at him, the silence stretching out between them until a stray burst of laughter escaped Shane’s throat. He shook his head, leaning in to bump his shoulder against Ilya’s chest.
"You are the most ridiculous human being I have ever met," Shane muttered, though he didn't pull away.
Ilya’s smirk returned, sharp and triumphant. He reached out, snagging the edge of Shane’s towel. "So, we are saving the planet? For the children?"
"For the children," Shane repeated, rolling his eyes as he led the way into the steam. "But if you try to wash my hair with that industrial-grade dish soap you keep in your gym bag, I’m reporting you to whoever is in charge of this."
"I make no such promises," Ilya grinned.