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taras_oleksei ([personal profile] taras_oleksei) wrote2008-09-01 01:38 am

Nightcap

Taras stepped into the hall, closing his door behind him.

He had showered and changed, and now had on the casual clothes he wore to work out, complete with a light jacket over his tank, to cover his shoulders and arms. That was better. Easier than having his tattoos on display, even if it was only Isaev's brother and his comrade.

Taras carried the bottle of cognac that he'd brought with him from Leningrad, Isaev's brand.

He felt the strange need to see Ilarion.

Taras crossed to Isaev's door and knocked briskly, then opened it and stepped inside, pausing to assess the situation.

The room was mostly as he'd left it. The Ukrainian sat in the corner, still clutching Lasha's vodka bottle, though it looked considerably less full than before. Taras frowned at that.

Ilarion and Andrusha sat next to each other, leaning close with chairs pushed together, like they had been talking.

Taras wasn't certain how long he'd been gone. A while.

He held up the bottle, as if it had only been a few minutes.

"Brought more cognac," he said.

[identity profile] ilarion-isaev.livejournal.com 2008-09-17 05:35 am (UTC)(link)
"Oh, it won't," Lasha said, matter-of-factly, as he closed the door, but Andrei's housepet mattered little to him at this juncture. He was languid, his mood was eased and mellowed.

The fire had settled down to glowing embers, and needed to be restoked.

He noted that vaguely as he turned away.

Oleksei was standing there, silently, and Ilarion smiled, a slightly obfuscated expression.

"Well, that just leaves you and I, doesn't it Captain."