Mess, cont

[hajimenoippolit.livejournal.com]

Rakitin stared at Liadov, his stomach clenched into a ball of ice.

Slowly, as he studied Nika's expression, he realized something.

Someone was striking derision and a wall of cold rejection, someone was where they weren't wanted, and it wasn't Polya.

How strange.

In the wash of relief and something else (acceptance? No, that was absurd), he felt an undercurrent of sympathy for the supply captain.

For the first time, it occured to him that he could play along.

Polya looked met Utrov's eyes and smiled a little, shyly.

The secret was shared, after all.

"You know, I think he does."

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[hajimenoippolit.livejournal.com]

After briefly opening his mouth, Polya had gone back to playing dead, more from habit than anything.

He was no longer afraid of this man.

Perhaps having stood in the shadow of Isaev so recently had burned out the conduits in him that carried fear. Perhaps, by that contrast, Utrov's pretensions at power of presence were revealed for the flimsy sham they were.

What was there to fear?

If the captain's words were an odd sort of threat - Look, I'm stupid, mad, or suicidal enough to condemn the both of us - it would have been potentially much more effective if it weren't directed at a man Polya had personally offered to service not three days previous.

That didn't make him any happier when Utrov said, "The German said I was thrown in the guest quarters. Something like that. There was an 'ach' in there somewhere."

Krauss probably wanted Molokov's former quarters left undisturbed for as long as he could manage it. He had seemed understandably sentimental. Also, they were probably haunted.

Utrov grinned, a little more maniacally than was, in Polya's opinion, strictly neccesary.

"Does that make us neighbors?" he said.

Well, it wasn't as though Rakitin didn't already have reasons to avoid that hallway as much as possible.

Nika had the best notion, he thought, in simply ignoring the man. No time like the present to start.

"I thought I'd go out to the firing range for a while," Polya said. "I'm not very good, but I think I can get better with practice."

As it often turned out, his brain was slower than his mouth.

"What about you?"

He heard it slip out and managed not to wince.

[nikanor-liadov.livejournal.com]

Nika frowned.

"I don't know," he said slowly, toying with his cup, spinning it slightly in the cage of his fingers. "Perhaps I'll turn in early."

It was certainly a tempting thought. His soul was exhausted.

His eyes sought Polya's with mild curiosity.

"The firing range?" he said, tilting his head. "I had no idea you were so interested in firearms."

He nodded.

"That's good, Rakitin. A man in our neighborhood of work should be adept with a piece, even if he primarily does benchwork."

That the Lieutenant should want to go to the range- at this late hour, after a rigorous interrogation- was unusual, but no more so than the habits of some of his colleagues.

[hajimenoippolit.livejournal.com]

"I've just begun to realize that," Polya said ironically.

He sipped tea, and deadpanned,

"You never know what's going to jump out of the shadows."

[nikanor-liadov.livejournal.com]

Nika averted his gaze significantly.

"Indeed," he murmured. "One never knows."