Geno had arrived in Pittsburgh looking every minute of the nineteen hour flight from Helsinki, plus however long he’d been in transit between there and his run from the KHL. Sid had been standing next to Mario, watching the new arrival expectantly, even though he didn’t think Geno was a threat. The other wolf had spent too much time negotiating on his own behalf to be allowed into another pack’s territory, and even more to be allowed to play with the team. But all the same, new wolves made Sidney antsy.

Kissing and dentata.

Sitting at the table was Sid: Sid as Zhenya had first known him, almost a decade before: dorky, long-haired Sid, his cheeks round with baby fat. He couldn’t have been older than twenty, and even that was generous. “Wow,” baby Sid said. “Are you Evgeni Malkin?"

“Tater thinks I’m pretty,” Eric blurts out, and Jack chokes as he’s taking a sip of his drink. “Maybe wrong word,” Alexei tries, reaching out to squeeze Eric’s shoulder, “You handsome, but face is soft. Is nice face. Uh, you okay, Zimmboni?” “Yeah,” Jack coughs. His eyes are watering. “You’re right. Bitty is pretty.” “Is rhyme!” Alexei yells, excitedly, and offers his champagne bottle to Jack. “Drink for rhyme.”