Kassian drew in a breath and let it out, but didn't close his eyes.

Isaev was right, and he knew it. He was already regretting his words. He'd been too bold, too aggressive. Reckless, even.

It wasn't like him, he told himself, even though his heart still thrummed, though he'd managed to keep his breath steady.

Desire turned ashen in the back his throat, cooling his passion.

He dropped his gaze. Maybe Isaev was young and insolent. Maybe he was only mocking Kassian behind those reasonable words.

It was true: he didn't know anything about Isaev, after all.

Except, perhaps, he knew how to show mercy.

"I...apologize, comrade," he said, slowly, still staring at the floor. "I was too hasty. Lost in the moment. Blame the alcohol."

He wished he could.

But he knew better. Blame his own weakness, it was more like.