Kassian let out a soft, startled breath, half in relief, his shoulders rolling forward slightly.

He did not know what he'd expected, exactly - something between Oleksei's outright hostility and Andrei's coolly detached dismissal. Or maybe the contemptuous, leering sneer of Ilarion in his youth.

But there was something about the simple invitation instead that struck him raw. Kassian knew it was not benevolence that motivated Ilarion Isaev, but right then, it didn't matter.

"Da," he said, quietly. His voice sounded a little rough, like he'd been drinking.

He cleared his throat.

"I'd appreciate that, Major."

Belatedly, he glanced down, tugging at his uniform, making the effort to straighten his jacket lapels and his twisted scarf, though it was mostly ineffectual.

He ran his hand through his hair again, pushing it back and off his brow.

Kassian stepped closer to Ilarion's chair. Oleksei did not follow him this time, but instead lurked menacingly like an overgrown Siberian tiger at the perimeter of a remote village.

He glanced at Oleksei, who merely stared back.

It seemed polite to disarm. Kassian looked away and slipped his rifle off his shoulder, leaning it carefully against the credenza.

There were two glasses on the endtable next to a nearly-empty bottle. He guessed he had interrupted Isaev and Oleksei's nightcap.

Ilarion, at least, did not seem particularly perturbed about it. His expression was mild and posture relaxed. He exuded unthinking confidence.

Kassian looked at him, and wondered if he was seeing what Andrei would be like, in eight years or so.

"Thanks for seeing me," he added.