He studied Taras for another moment, then drew a breath of pause.
"It occurs to me, Oleksei, that there's no reason you should forfeit the charms of a perfectly good and willing woman merely because I decide to cut her adrift. Tell me, Tarashik- would you like to have Anya for your own? If you want to keep her on, I won't fire her. She will be spared by your good grace."
It occurred to Ilarion several seconds later that considering the relative peace that seemed to have erupted between he and Liadov that morning at a rather civil tea, it would be doubly ill-advised to dismiss Anya and throw her out into the cold.
Liadov might well be returning, and they might have a shot a some kind of amicable resolution. Lasha didn't know exactly how much stock Nika actually put in Anya's well-being and happiness- personally, he thought such things were more like lip service- but there was always the chance, with Liadov, that he was in earnest.
Taras had looked disappointed when Lasha had slammed down his ultimatum on the issue of Anya, in addition, and though he had acquiesced readily enough, it had not escaped Ilarion's notice. Taras, of course, had not been on the receiving end of her estrogen fueled hysterical flailing.
"Perhaps you should marry her," Lasha said, distantly.
Then he smiled, sharklike.
"I jest, of course. Perhaps you should marry Masha."
In the next moment he was turning cool, suggestive eyes toward Taras once more.
"What manner of man would you like him to be?"
For a moment he was reminded of the Evropeiskaya, all those many months ago, and sequitur, the voice in his head filled in "sturdy".
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2009-08-12 09:59 am (UTC)"Indeed," he whispered.
He studied Taras for another moment, then drew a breath of pause.
"It occurs to me, Oleksei, that there's no reason you should forfeit the charms of a perfectly good and willing woman merely because I decide to cut her adrift. Tell me, Tarashik- would you like to have Anya for your own? If you want to keep her on, I won't fire her. She will be spared by your good grace."
It occurred to Ilarion several seconds later that considering the relative peace that seemed to have erupted between he and Liadov that morning at a rather civil tea, it would be doubly ill-advised to dismiss Anya and throw her out into the cold.
Liadov might well be returning, and they might have a shot a some kind of amicable resolution. Lasha didn't know exactly how much stock Nika actually put in Anya's well-being and happiness- personally, he thought such things were more like lip service- but there was always the chance, with Liadov, that he was in earnest.
Taras had looked disappointed when Lasha had slammed down his ultimatum on the issue of Anya, in addition, and though he had acquiesced readily enough, it had not escaped Ilarion's notice. Taras, of course, had not been on the receiving end of her estrogen fueled hysterical flailing.
"Perhaps you should marry her," Lasha said, distantly.
Then he smiled, sharklike.
"I jest, of course. Perhaps you should marry Masha."
In the next moment he was turning cool, suggestive eyes toward Taras once more.
"What manner of man would you like him to be?"
For a moment he was reminded of the Evropeiskaya, all those many months ago, and sequitur, the voice in his head filled in "sturdy".