And suddenly there they are. Dmitry half-naked, Anya yelling, and a little dog claiming his sofa as if he owns it. For a second, he can only stare, only sort of taking in her words. She makes it sound as if it's been weeks since he arrived instead of hours, as if she had expected Dmitry to take one look at Gleb and demand escort right to her doorstep. "Waiting?" he asks, slow and dumbfounded. Why would she be waiting for him?

And why is she looking at him like that?

Should he be bowing? Dmitry thinks he should probably be bowing, except that he can't tear his eyes away from her. Eventually, he bends at the waist, arms spread wide, but head still tilted up. It's not like that parade so long ago, not like the hotel room, where he sank to one knee. This is brief and brusque and confused.

"You didn't want anything to do with me..."