[ Vasiliy feels it, loudly, like a shark must feel gallons of blood dumped off the side of a fishing vessel or a scenthound a vat of perfume soaked into the ground over its trail: the exhaustion, the attempts to tape together something dangerously close to crumbling, the ugly asymmetry of the sort of human imperfection that even the most carefully finessed machine or simulation, Robbies included, cannot hope to convincingly emulate.
It has all at once become a certainty, not a suspicion, that Harding is different from the other people here, and he has walked in on a moment that is horribly private.
He doesn't pursue him on his way to the driver's side, because he knows people on the whole well enough by now to recognize that chasing anyone has never, in the history of diplomatic action, ended with the desired outcome. So he just stands there where he is, his thigh against the front bumper, which will have to come forward if Harding leaves the parking spot. Vasiliy lets some of the determination fall from his face for a few seconds as he reaches into the breast pocket of his uniform shirt and taps a cigarette out of the half-finished pack of Luckies.
He holds it out, an attempt at an olive branch for the time being. ]
Sorry.
[ He doesn't elaborate on the apology, doesn't draw attention to what he's interrupted or the implications behind acknowledging why it's a violation. That would only be a further offense. ]
no subject
It has all at once become a certainty, not a suspicion, that Harding is different from the other people here, and he has walked in on a moment that is horribly private.
He doesn't pursue him on his way to the driver's side, because he knows people on the whole well enough by now to recognize that chasing anyone has never, in the history of diplomatic action, ended with the desired outcome. So he just stands there where he is, his thigh against the front bumper, which will have to come forward if Harding leaves the parking spot. Vasiliy lets some of the determination fall from his face for a few seconds as he reaches into the breast pocket of his uniform shirt and taps a cigarette out of the half-finished pack of Luckies.
He holds it out, an attempt at an olive branch for the time being. ]
Sorry.
[ He doesn't elaborate on the apology, doesn't draw attention to what he's interrupted or the implications behind acknowledging why it's a violation. That would only be a further offense. ]