"Really?" said Barshai, slowly. "It's raining in Leningrad as well."

He shifted slightly, running a hand through his hair. It was soft, scarcely damp from the Major's ensuite shower.

"It's nice to speak to someone right now."

He paused.

"No matter why they called."

Barshai relaxed back against the mound of pillows, toying with the corner of one, fingertips extended idly.

"Are you alone?" he asked, after a moment, inflectionlessly.