Ilya is acutely aware of how stupid, outright ridiculous, this must look for whoever takes a glance at what is happening from an outside perspective; Two young men staring at one another from across the counter, lips parted and eyes wide, possibly wishing for the ground to split open and the fucking apocalypse to arise - their reasonings for such surprisingly similar, unexpectedly so.
Because through all the damn tension, the awkwardness, the outright embarrassment and humiliation that eats away at Ilya's bones, making it hard to think, to exist... he can still see it so very clearly, the fact that Shane is just as surprised, but immediately feels incredibly insecure - pushed, pulled, manhandled - by the circumstances of what happens to be the coffee shop itself. People behind him begin to stare, lifting eyebrows in disapproval, muttering stupid bullshit under their breaths because they apparently can't exist without paying nine fucking dollars for a mediocre cup of coffee---
It's fascinating, in a way, because that is what actually manages to break Ilya out of his own emotional confinements there - brings back his ability to be a functional human, pushes something protective and fierce to the surface that hasn't been there before, the sudden need to defend what is obviously struggling and trying to keep his cool. The curiosity is obviously noticed just as much, the fact that questions arise before the actual order, and fuck, Ilya wants to--- shit, he wants to talk as well, he wants to get an actual conversation going, especially since that cute man in front of him is wanting to offer an open here but, again, the setting they're in is so unforgiving, outright unfair.
Ilya thinks about it, mulls it over, pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as his bright eyes flick back and forth between that phone Shane is holding onto, his gorgeous face, the people behind him that continue to be such obnoxious pain in the asses---
"Oh, everyone's acting so nice and kind today to who needs an extra second, yes? So very generous. Thank you."
Those words make it from the depths of his lungs before Ilya could even attempt to stop them from existing - but honestly, there was no desire for such to begin with. He sounds every bit as snarky and sarcastic as he has wanted to, his accent making his statement cut through the shop and every single soul currently inside it; This could, under any other circumstances, cost him his job, he knows...
But, fortunately so, this is Sveta's shop. Well, not quite, it belongs to her father, but she's the manager. The top manager. The manager of the managers. She runs this shit, the whole of it, and happens to be his best friend at the very same time. Bestest of best friends, actually.
Nostrils flaring as he blinks, head lifted, he allows for his stare to crawl across who's now staring back at him - lets a single second drop, then another, a third - before he exhales, tilts his head in a fucking 'anyone wanting to add some extra bullshit on top of it, maybe? No? Good.' before his gaze softens, returning to the one with the gorgeous brown eyes---
"One oat milk latte, one espresso - coming right up."
His voice is softer now, a gentle hum he hopes to feel soothing, as Ilya smiles and then turns to get the order going. His movements are precise and studied-in, he's done this a million times before, after all ... and it helps to supress the embarrassment about the fact that he's actually working here, at a super fucking boring coffee shop, which is definitely not going to impress the object of his desire in any shape or form.
Hopefully it isn't going to push him away either. Hopefully Ilya can still appear super cool and handsome and hot while preparing those two coffees - pouring oat milk into one cup, espresso into the other. He tries his best, keeps his shoulders square and his hips cocked...
"...Oh, on tebe nravitsya." Sveta appears by his side with a smirk, unbothered by his previous outburst, because she's clocking him from a million miles away. Of course she does, she knows that Shane's Ilya's type and she has eyes and all of that. She follows her words up with a hum, then wiggles her brows at him, glancing over her shoulder to take an additional look at cutie shy boy with his phone in his hands waiting for his order to be done---
"Logichno. On ochen' milyy."
Ilya rolls his eyes, throws a gaze at her that attempts to drill right through her grin - but beloved Svetlana is wholly unbothered, blinks at him, then tilts her head this and that way while she prepares a cup of coffee for another customer.
"Tak i rvesh'sya zashchishchat'. Vprochem, ty prav: eti lyudi zasluzhili, chtoby ikh pristydili. Ved' oni tak naseli na togo bednyazhku — nu, togo milogo---"
"Zamolchi." The lids are attached with a bit too much enthusiasm, with Ilya almost spilling those two damn coffees, but he manages not to humiliate himself any further in front of the other - breathes through, then arches a brow of his own. "Don't you have, like, order to prepare... or something?"
Sveta chuckles, then looks at Shane one more time before she continues on with her own order - humming along to the music that's playing in the background, very much entertained by what is currently going on; Ilya wants to strangle and kiss her at the very same time, stupid annoying woman who lets Ilya get through with so much bullshit on the regular. Any other manager would've given his ass a thorough spanking, but she's being a nuisance instead.
Sometimes Ilya wonders how he managed to end up being so fucking lucky...
He steadies himself, then turns and makes his way back to Shane - sets the two cups down in front of him, hands steady, with him now needing to fight against his inner nervosity once again; Shit, he's really here, fuck. That adorable man with the incredible smile is here and he's looking at him and---
"...And, yes, we just got new fresh batch of cinnamon rolls. Very good ones." Ilya doesn't need to sell them as hard as he does but here he is, suddenly feeling eager to make the best out of what is a weird situation to begin with. He works at a fucking coffee shop for fucks sake, life couldn't be more boring, after all - he wants to make sure the other isn't feeling too unimpressed, isn't leaving this place while thinking about what a fucking loser Ilya is. "---We have with, uhm... with lemon icing, or regular icing. We also have some with chocolate too."
A nod at the counter by their side, a small but still nice to look at assortment of treats sitting behind clear glass. Ilya pulls out a brown bag from beneath his own counter, gaze returning to look at Shane...
"...I also did not expect to see you here, you know? Makes... two of us, yes?"
A small smile, because he cannot contain himself, shit.
