The way Skov and Swan talk, and sometimes Kavinsky, keeps Illya's mouth fucking shut. He isn't going to fucking risk a goddamn thing in this group, not when he's practically Kav's right hand man. It feels like it's always been that way, though if anyone asked he could never point to a moment.

Still, sometimes he looks at Kavinsky, at the sharpness of him, at the freckles on his skin, when he's pretty sure no one else is noticing him. He forces his eyes away when Jiang sits down; he accepts the peace offering a drag on the joint. And, feeling a little bold, he lets his head loll against Jiang's shoulder. What the fuck ever. It wouldn't be the first time Prokopenko draped over someone.