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taras_olekseiTaras 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.
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.
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Date: 2008-09-02 04:48 pm (UTC)"Da, okei. We'll go."
He pushed himself up, somewhat carefully, and Ilarion came with him, sliding a shoulder under his, helping him amble to the door.
Lasha always held his liquor well, up and until that point of no return.
He wasn't there yet, thought Andrei, as Ilarion still indulged him physically, steering him.
Then again, he'd been so rapt at their conversation, his drink must have seemed an afterthought.
Lasha fixed him with warm, firm eyes, patting his cheek.
"Now, you're going to be able to get back to your barrack, Andrusha, da?"
"Da," said Andrei, with a grin, head pitching forward, swiping a clumsy kiss across his brother's set mouth. "We'll manage."
"Khorosho, bratan. I'll see you tomorrow."
Andrei released him, hands sliding down his lapels as he backed away. He swaggered only slightly.
Ilarion glanced at Irinarhov, obliquely.
"Nice seeing you again," he clipped out, perfunctory.