Chapter Text
"Who were you talking to? Everyone you talk to is here. Did you make new friends?" Ilya asks as Troy Barrett gets hangs up his phone and gets out of his car. Troy looks at him, looking like he's not sure if he wants to be insulted or not. The fact is, it's true, Troy isn't the most social person, he definitely isn't still talking to his old crowd, and Harris is standing near the entrance waiting for them with Chiron. Troy seems to decide he's going to take Ilya at his best, most lovable asshole self today and lets out a little huff of a laugh.
"If you must know, I was doing a Fanmail." He pauses and looks at Ilya for a moment. "You do know what Fanmail is don't you?" Ilya gives a non committal head bobble.
"Is.... some stupid famous person thing, yes?" Ilya says. He has no idea how to describe it other than that. He knows Shane has mentioned Hayden doing them before, but he's never quite understood the point. Troy lets out a more substantial laugh at that.
"It's more than that..." Troy pauses, not exactly sure how to explain that since he's come out, it's been a lot more than that. He is about to keep going when he realizes that he's completely lost Ilya's attention. He's crouched down and Chiron is wagging his tail so hard his entire body is wiggling. He is jumping, paws on Ilya's shoulders to lick his face while Ilya showers him with all kinds of praise and terms of endearment in soft Russian. "Harris, explain Fanmail to Ilya." Troy says to Harris who's watching Chiron and Ilya with the kind of fond look on his face that's usually reserved for him. He also watches when Harris whips out his phone and snaps a few pictures. He'd feel jealous if he wasn't very aware of how well the many pictures of the supposed bad boy of hockey looking like a total sap with a puppy does any time they're posted on the Centaurs official Instagram page.
"Oh, it's great. People pay for you to say things to them. A lot of time people are buying them for someone else who's a fan." Harris tells him, only half sure that Ilya is listening. He's progressed to being half on the ground, with Chiron in his arms and getting endless belly rubs.
"Things? What kind of things?" Ilya asks from the ground, having stopped devoting all of his attention to Chiron, who is taking it badly and trying very hard to climb into his lap to attack his face with kisses again. Harris shrugs.
"All kinds of things. Birthday wishes, good luck, cheering someone up. Things like that." Ilya looks at him skeptically.
"My English is.... is ok now, but I don't think that would be good job for me," he says. Harris smiles at him and pulls Chiron off of him as his trainer is walking through the parking lot. When she gets to the door, Harris hands her his leash and she gives a quick sharp "Chiron, down," which has him immediately sitting next to her, tail wagging and looking up at her adoringly.
Ilya gives the trainer a bit of a glare. He knows that it's a good thing, important even for Chiron's safety in the locker room and on the ice, for him to be very well trained, but he's still not completely convinced she gives the puppy nearly enough treats. They head into the stadium and Harris claps a hand on Ilya's shoulder.
"Half the time they give you a script to follow. Also, Ilya, I think you maybe think your English is worse than it is, we've never had any kind of problem understanding you-
"- You definitely give a hell of a pregame pep talk," Troy confirms which makes Ilya smile.
".... and people go absolutely feral over your accent." Harris continues. Ilya's eyebrow's come together.
"Feral... what is feral?" He asks, throwing his hands up in frustration at how well he's proving his own point right now. Harris stops and looks through the little window in the stadium door they'd just come through. "Feral.... like wild dogs. The ladies love you almost as much as Chiron loves you." Harris says with a playful shove.
"But is for money, yes? I have money." Ilya says, again waving his hand to wave away the idea.
"You definitely don't have to do it Rozy," Barrett says as they enter the locker room. "Plenty of guys don't..."
"What?" Ilya says. He can tell there's something more Barrett is trying to tell him that he's not understanding.
"You've been open about some of your," he makes a hand wavey gesture in Ilya's direction, "mental health stuff. I think there are people... I think there are people out there that would really appreciate getting a message from you. And, since you apparently don't need anymore money, Mr. Captain," Ilya gives him a 'fuck you' from where he's starting to change. "you could always donate everything to the Irina Foundation."
Ilya nods to himself. He doesn't need any more money, especially now that he and Shane have been almost living together and have combined finances, between the two of them, they have more than enough. But the foundation? He's always happy to put more money into it, to expand their reach, to help more people.
"Harris would help me with this?" Ilya asks.
"Absolutely.... I mean, it's Harris. He'll be genuinely excited to help you." Ilya nods, it's true. Harris will in fact be more than happy to set this up for Ilya. Troy smiles at him in a way that feels far more significant than what he seems to be telling Ilya. Ilya pursed his lips and nodded.
"I will try it," he says.
How hard could it be?