Date: 2008-08-13 09:32 pm (UTC)
Taras looked at him for a few moments, still frowning faintly, then he finally nodded.

"All right."

He hesitated, then punched Isaev lightly in the arm, like a comrade.

Taras barely had to reach. He realized that they were standing so close, if he took a half-step forward, their legs would touch.

He thought again about the dancer.

Taras shifted back, half turning toward the table where he'd dumped Rakitin's paperwork. Papers fanned the light beige surface like a spilled deck of cards. The prospect of reading through it all was daunting.

He folded his arms.

"So what'd you end up doing with Barshai?"

He glanced over his shoulder at Isaev, who was still not far.

"There wasn't much time to make arrangements for him, before we had to leave."
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