Extimers

The phone rings. Ilya looks up from his laptop and reads the message on the phone: "Vozdukhan" (Air Conditioner), answers the call, and turns on speakerphone.
-Hello

• Hello, Ilyukh, will you pick me up?
  —Are you out of your mind? Have you seen the time? I have things to do.
• Well, Ilyush, I owe you one.
  —Where are you anyway?
  —I was at the race and came to see Sasha.
• What, he can’t give you a ride?
• No, he'll still be here.
  -Ts, you'll need a figurine.
  -Thank you!
  Reset. Ilya sighed, rubbed his eyes, and turned off the laptop. He stood up and started getting ready.
  Ilya got ready, put on a milky bomber jacket, took the keys and left the apartment.
  Upon reaching the entrance, Ilya stepped out of the car, immediately becoming the object of curious glances. He kept his eyes downcast, trying not to make eye contact. He felt as if he'd landed on an alien planet. His appearance gave him away: a white T-shirt, that bomber jacket, and light jeans. His eyes at the moment resembled those of a frightened fawn. Lyosha, with his restless arse, was, of course, not at the entrance. Derevyashkin wasn't answering his phone, so Ilya's only option was to search for him in the crowd. His gaze slid over the groups of people gathered around the motorcycles. Yatskevich took a deep breath as he stepped into the biker base. His movements were cautious, hesitant—he didn't want to bump into anyone and start a fight. Stopping in a clearer area, he decided to search again for the right head. There was still hope for Paradeevich, who stood out from the crowd with his white hair, but unfortunately, even that was not in sight. Most of the bikers were quite tall, which forced Ilya to stand on his toes.
  "Lost, honey? " The voice was low and hoarse, but it sounded more playful than threatening.
  Suddenly, a man appeared before his nose, blocking his view. Tall and broad-shouldered, as expected, wearing a black leather jacket. Looking up, Ilya met bright, piercing blue eyes that stared back with undisguised interest. Black, slightly damp hair fell across his forehead, and a slight smirk played across his face.