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Summary
Ilya tuts. "Shane, I am busy, you know?" He nods aggressively. "I do not have time for…mistakes." His nods slow. "How will you make this worth my time?" And then he freezes.
"I can write," he suggests, "Old-fashioned, pen and paper."
"Hm," Ilya pretends to consider it, "Will take much longer than typing."
"I write fast," he bargains. He can't let Ilya kick him out; he can prove himself; he can be useful.
Ilya smiles up at him. "On your knees."
Or, Shane sends a couple wrong texts.
