Andrei smiled faintly.

"You do know me, don't you."

He paused, slinging an arm around Irinarhov's shoulders and brining their heads together, brow to brow.

"You know that they won't find any evidence," he intoned.

His fingers patted the sniper's rough cheek, as his lips curved upward.

"And if they did...I'm not good for it. I'd like to see them try to pin this on me."

He laughed, an inky sound, low and indulgent.

"Believe me, they'd be playing violin in a hurricane."