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[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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[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."