Nika frowned tautly, eyes casting downward, his expression petulant by nature and not intention.
"I wasn't looking for anything in Red Square," he said, in a low voice. "Especially not you."
He rubbed his wrist absently, finding no cuff, bemused for a moment until he remembered his state of half- dress.
"You were an impulse."
He glanced up at Oleksei.
"Not to disparage it. I enjoyed our little collision. You were very...game."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Or..riled up, if you prefer to call it that in hindsight."
Nika sighed, running his fingers back through his hair, rifling the masses of mellowed gold and letting them fall as he gathered his thoughts.
Pain lingered at the door, teasing the threshold, but he kept it at bay.
"Look. Oleksei. I don't know why you're here, but I assure you it doesn't matter what I do when it comes to 'your comrade' Lasha. I'll be hanged, Captain, for a sheep or a lamb, regardless. I'm not the one torturing Ilarion. He's torturing himself."
Liadov paused, exhaling deeply.
"And me," he added, quietly.
He leaned forward, dropping his voice, somnolent grey eyes rising to catch Oleksei's and hold them fast.
"Tell me, Taras Oleksei, what makes you so unseasonably angry with me? I thought it was Red Square, pure and simple- repressed desires, fear of exposure- but I don't think that now."
He reached out, slowly, almost imperceptibly, straightening the thug's necktie with careful, deliberate fingers. Easing the knot slowly up, but stopping shy of the final placement, leaving it casual and uncontrived.
"Tell me," he whispered, coolly. "Tell me something I don't know. I'm listening, comrade."
no subject
"I wasn't looking for anything in Red Square," he said, in a low voice. "Especially not you."
He rubbed his wrist absently, finding no cuff, bemused for a moment until he remembered his state of half- dress.
"You were an impulse."
He glanced up at Oleksei.
"Not to disparage it. I enjoyed our little collision. You were very...game."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Or..riled up, if you prefer to call it that in hindsight."
Nika sighed, running his fingers back through his hair, rifling the masses of mellowed gold and letting them fall as he gathered his thoughts.
Pain lingered at the door, teasing the threshold, but he kept it at bay.
"Look. Oleksei. I don't know why you're here, but I assure you it doesn't matter what I do when it comes to 'your comrade' Lasha. I'll be hanged, Captain, for a sheep or a lamb, regardless. I'm not the one torturing Ilarion. He's torturing himself."
Liadov paused, exhaling deeply.
"And me," he added, quietly.
He leaned forward, dropping his voice, somnolent grey eyes rising to catch Oleksei's and hold them fast.
"Tell me, Taras Oleksei, what makes you so unseasonably angry with me? I thought it was Red Square, pure and simple- repressed desires, fear of exposure- but I don't think that now."
He reached out, slowly, almost imperceptibly, straightening the thug's necktie with careful, deliberate fingers. Easing the knot slowly up, but stopping shy of the final placement, leaving it casual and uncontrived.
"Tell me," he whispered, coolly. "Tell me something I don't know. I'm listening, comrade."