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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: 2008-09-17 09:54 am (UTC)He rubbed his calf suddenly, like it pained him, like a rubdown after a workout.
His pulse was thrumming, hot in his chest.
"All right," he whispered, barely aloud.
After a moment, he raised his jaw, nodding.
"All right. You're good too, Lasha. You're my comrade."
His shoulders twitched. It had become entirely too hot in the room, or at least where he was sitting, right next to the fireplace, which still radiated quite a bit of heat even though the fire had died down.
Taras unzipped the light jacket and pulled it off his shoulders, exposing tattooed arms and the black cotton tank he wore to work out. The top of the tiger's head was visible under his collar.
Taras tossed his jacket aside, glancing at the fireplace again.
He knew his and Isaev's idea of comfortable room temperate varied greatly.
"You want a little more wood on there? I can throw on a log or two."