"I know it is."

Taras exhaled softly. He stared at the fire, considering, taking a pull from his drink. Lasha's skin felt soft under his hand.

He frowned. He didn't know where to begin, either.

"I know what happened. I just don't...understand it."

Lasha was completely relaxed, he realized, suddenly. Taras could feel no tension in the set of his shoulders, or the line of his neck. Just Ilarion pressed against him, warm and solid.

Taras turned to look at him.

"Lasha..."

A brusque knock sounded at the door, then it opened immediately afterward.

Taras froze.

The Ukrainian barged in, still clutching Lasha's bottle of vodka.