"They're calling me back to Leningrad, Kirill."

He said it flatly.

Nika looked away, shaking his head. He didn't particularly want to meet Aryol's eyes, regardless of what lay there, be it pleasant indifference or indifferent resignation.

"Let's not talk about it now. The night is relatively young."

He leaned against a wall to remove his boots, then straightened, unfastening his pants and stepping out of them.

"Not until I've had a shower."