The call came later than Iyan expected.
Not immediately.
Not quickly.
Long enough that waiting had started to settle into something else.
He didn't check the number before answering.
"Yes."
A pause.
Then:
"...Fine."
Artem.
"I'll meet you," he said. "For a drink."
His tone was controlled.
But not calm.
"You can tell me whatever this terrible idea is," Artem continued. "Whatever you and your government have decided."
A beat.
Then, sharper:
"But I'm not going."
Iyan didn't interrupt.
"I'm a thousand percent sure of that," Artem added.
A pause.
Then:
"Send me the place."
The line went dead.
The bar was dim.
Not crowded.
Not empty.
The kind of place where conversations stayed at the table they belonged to.
Artem was already there when Iyan arrived.
Seated.
Facing the door.
Of course.
He didn't stand.
Didn't greet him.
Just watched as Iyan approached.
"You're late," Artem said.
"I'm not," Iyan replied.
That almost got a reaction.
Almost.
Iyan sat.
The table between them felt deliberate.
Measured.
There were already glasses set out.
Clear.
Neat.
A small arrangement—ordered, intentional.
"Vodka flight," Artem said.
Like it needed explaining.
Iyan nodded once.
They didn't drink right away.
Artem leaned back slightly.
Studying him.
"I don't know why you're so worried," he said.
No preamble.
No easing into it.
Iyan said nothing.
"I get it," Artem continued. "My name is on a list."
A small shrug.
"What are they going to do?"
A beat.
"I'm in Russia."
He held Iyan's gaze.
"I'm fine."
The word hung there.
"This isn't the Soviet Union," Artem said. "It's not the same place."
A flicker of something—frustration, maybe.
"The USSR is dead, Iyan."
He leaned forward slightly.
More intent now.
"The boogeyman isn't here anymore," he said. "This is a normal country."
A pause.
"A civilized one."
Iyan let the silence sit for a moment.
Then:
"You may think that."
Artem's expression tightened.
Slightly.
"But the people who have that list," Iyan continued, "don't operate on what you think."
Artem didn't look away.
"They have access," Iyan said. "And they have protection."
A beat.
"They have friends here."
That landed.
Not visibly.
But enough.
Artem exhaled slowly.
Looked down at the table.
Then back up.
"You're overreacting."
Quieter now.
But firm.
"I'm not."
Another pause.
"I'm not leaving," Artem said again.
Less sharp this time.
More... settled.
Iyan nodded once.
He'd expected that.
"Then just listen," he said.
Artem didn't respond.
But he didn't interrupt either.
They drank then.
Not quickly.
Not casually.
Just enough to mark time.
The conversation circled.
Repeated.
Shifted slightly, then returned to the same place.
Risk.
Denial.
Reality.
Refusal.
Nothing resolved.
Eventually, Artem leaned back again.
Exhaled.
"You always do this," he said.
Iyan looked at him.
"You decide something," Artem continued, "and then you just... move."
A small shake of his head.
"Like everyone else is supposed to catch up."
"That's not what this is."
"No," Artem said. "It is."
Silence again.
Then Artem stood.
Abrupt.
"I'm done," he said.
Iyan didn't try to stop him.
Didn't follow immediately.
He finished what was left in his glass.
Set it down.
Then stood.
The street outside was quieter now.
Later.
Artem was already ahead of him.
Walking fast.
Not running.
But not slowing down either.
Iyan didn't call after him.
Just followed.
At a distance.
The hotel came into view.
Lights steady.
Unchanged.
Iyan stepped inside.
Crossed the lobby.
Pressed the elevator button.
Waited.
The doors opened.
He stepped in.
Pressed his floor.
The doors began to close—
Then stopped.
Artem.
He stepped inside without a word.
Didn't look at him.
Didn't explain.
The doors closed.
The elevator moved.
Neither of them spoke.
The space was too small for distance.
Too quiet for avoidance.
Iyan didn't look at him.
But he felt him there.
Closer than he'd been in two years.
The elevator stopped.
The doors opened.
Iyan stepped out.
Artem followed.
Down the hallway.
Even steps.
Measured.
At the door, Iyan paused.
Just for a second.
Then unlocked it.
He stepped inside.
Artem didn't hesitate.
The door closed behind them.
And the rest—
wasn't said.