“Fuck, Rozanov. What the fuck? We’re on in like five seconds!” “Fifty seconds. We are fine.” “Does it matter to you that everyone backstage has been having a heart attack looking for you?” “Not really.” Shane’s hands rolled into fists at his sides. “Where were you, anyway?” “Busy.” “Oh yeah? With who?” Rozanov just smirked. “We’re on.”
oh you cocky prick
