Black Angus – Chapter 11

This is a working draft and not a final product.

Content Warnings: Self-Harm [burning], Wild Animal Attack, Suicidal Ideation, Violent Sexual Assault, Sexual Assault of a Minor, Grooming of a Minor, Death by Burning/Burning Building, Age Gap Relationship, Dubious Consent [coersion], Murder, Blood Drinking, Mind Control, Domestic Abuse

In which Angus shares his past.

The sound of Anatoliy’s boots on the wooden floor woke Angus from beneath the bed. He crawled out, seating himself next to the side table on the floor where he could avoid the morning rays reaching through the curtains.

“Rod, you scared the piss out of me!” Anatoliy yelped, still scrambling back. He gathered himself, then produced a pair of letters, one open and one sealed, handing Angus the unopened one. “Here, this came for you.” Eddie had written back.

Anatoliy stroked his jaw. The buds of his beard were starting to come back in. Overcoming his hesitation, he spoke again, “My client wrote back. I am to meet with him tomorrow afternoon.”

Angus gave him a solemn glance. “So that’s your choice then. You would pick wages over eternal youth?” he asked bitterly. Anger pricked at his chest, inviting and easier to endure than the grief of his failure. Of course, Anatoliy wanted to be done with him; he was a monster.

“We discussed this yesterday, zolotse,” Anatoliy replied wearily. —There it was again, that word Anatoliy only used when he was discussing stupid work or gods who made arbitrary decisions for him. He’d address with it Angus so sweetly, but it always felt inexplicably cold, as if Angus was just an object to him. “I will remember you always. Even when I am old, I will tell everyone I meet stories about you. They will not believe me, and I will not care. But what you are changes nothing. You cannot alter the will of gods.”

“I did though,” Angus choked, “Anatoliy, I—. It was me. I took the coin from Khors-Dazhbog. I’m sorry. It was foolish. I thought I was helping.”

The air stilled around them.

Anatoliy’s jaw twitched, his face and neck flushing red. “How stupid do you think I am, Angus? —You think I did not know it was you?” Anatoliy’s voice broke. He seemed unsure of what to do with his hands.

Inhaling sharply, he kept on. “You thought you could deceive me, but I know how my god speaks to me, and he showed me exactly what kind of man you are. You are a dog who eats scraps from the garbage —when you knew I would have fed you, taken care of you, given you a home.” Anatoliy’s chest heaved.

Angus’s mouth pulled into a straight line. “—But you still fucked me.”

“And I still fed you,” Anatoliy growled.

A sharp sting ran through Angus’s nose, forcing tears. He rose to his feet, razors of sunlight catching his hair and skin in patches, burning smoke and embers into him, but Angus ignored it as he padded closer.

“It was wrong. I’m sorry. Please, Anatoliy —I love you,” Angus begged, his nose dripping.

Anatoliy squeezed his eyes closed. He turned away, pulled the sheets from the bed, and threw them over Angus; the gesture expressing more so pity than care. The mattress creaked around him as he sank down, slouching over with his arms hanging between his knees.

“It was only sex between us, lapochka. Trust me, in a couple of days, both of our hearts will be fine,” Anatoliy sighed. He looked Angus square in the face to demonstrate his sincerity, man to man.

Angus sucked his lip, pulling the sheet around his head. “When I saw you riding Zorya on the road, I thought you were a bandit, and I planned to eat you when you tried to rob me. I wasn’t much more sympathetic when I learned you were a mercenary, as you well know. Even when you caught me watching you in your sleep, I only had one thing on my mind. This whole time, I have been waiting for you to just give me a reason to hurt you —but you never did. You were kind and sweet and gentle to me. I can’t remember how long it’s been since anyone has treated me like that. But I hurt you anyway, because I wanted you so much. I acted selfishly.”

Anatoliy’s eyes drifted to the side, his face looking uneasy but not cold. He licked his lips as if he meant to speak, but stayed silent.

“I realize,” Angus added, choking up again, “I haven’t been very honest with you. Certain parts I’m sure you understand; the rest I have no excuse for. From now on, if you’ll allow me, I’ll be nothing but honest with you. But I understand if you can no longer trust me.” Despite his best efforts, his voice began to warble as he finished. Angus tried sniffling back his difficult to restrain emotions, but only made himself seem more childish in doing so.

Anatoliy groaned and rubbed his palms into his face. “Even when you’re not doing your trick, you still make your eyes like a puppy. —Fine. Tell me everything,” he sighed.

Angus blinked his eyes clear. “Right now?” It felt wrong to want compassion, though he did. He was undeserving. This conversation all seemed like it was just a sick contest that Angus wanted to lose no less than he wanted Anatoliy to either. His guilt egged him to relent, to suffer alone so he couldn’t cause Anatoliy any more trouble.

“Last night, when I was drunk and in estrus, I risked my life for no reason. I suppose while I am in my right mind, it makes sense that I hear you.” Anatoliy shifted to the sunny side of the bed and waved his palm over the free side. Angus cautiously walked over and sat. He took Anatoliy’s hands in his own. Anatoliy deserved to hear the truth that he had promised to tell.

“Very well,” Angus began. “I am seventy-seven years old. Fifty-three of ‘em dead.

“I grew up as an only child on the border of Ulvenkeep. My family never had much money, but we didn’t suffer much for it either —so for that, we were fortunate. My father was a courier, and my mother worked long days raising hens and keeping our garden. She taught me how to read and write, both the new and old tongues. It was very important to her that I knew how. My mother was an immigrant like yourself, of Boreastica, so I think that was why. She didn’t talk much about her home, or maybe, it was me who never asked.

“There was an incident in my boyhood that affected my life unalterably. I was playing outside and had wandered farther from home than usual. There was a poorly kept graveyard with grass that came up to my chest. I picked its wildflowers and climbed its crumbling statues, and miles away on the horizon, I saw what I thought must have been a castle. Fantasy stole me away, and I resolved to walk inside its walls someday.

“The sun was still out but was beginning its descent. From the shade of the mausoleums, at the furthest edge of the yard rose the largest dog I’d ever seen in my life, twice my size as a boy, if my memory is to be trusted. It growled and let out a few barks, and I froze. The dog must have believed that I was standing my ground and called my bluff by launching in my direction. I ran toward the gate, my best hope for my short legs before the beast cleared the distance of the yard. The tall grass slowed me down all the worse, which the dog seemed to clear easily with each bound. Yet somehow, I was able to scale the six-foot-tall barred gate, scratching my arms on the iron and scuffing my legs and clothes as I tumbled down to the other side. The dog pressed its ragged face through and continued to bark and gnash at me with its relentless hatred. Even with the gate separating us, I couldn’t stop running until I was safe at home.

“My folks were cross at me for coming home late and ruining my clothes. They didn’t believe me when I told them about the dog that had chased me. That was worse than any punishment they gave me for coming home after dark. I was seven years old and learning for the first time that the two people I was meant to trust the most in this world would not protect me when I needed them. It devastated me. And you can say whatever you like; you can chide me or call me histrionic, but this new knowledge to me as a boy was enough for me to wish to no longer be living.

“I was certain of my resolve, and I can tell you the reason I sit beside you, as I am now, is because I wasn’t sure how to manage such a task. There are plenty of ways to do it, but once one decides they want to die, it starts to become clear how uncertain all these methods are. And you need certainty. You need to get it right the first time because not only then will others around you become aware of your intentions and make it much harder for you to try again, but it’s also fairly likely that you’ll never fully recover your former health —so you’ll be forced to live a far more painful life than the one you were already enduring. I may have wanted to not be alive, but that one thing I wanted even less.

“Death became an obsession for me. I was never not thinking about it. For every day of that year of my life, it always haunted the back of my mind. I started collecting medical magazines to further my knowledge, studying poisons, keeping a secret journal of every way I could think of for a person to perish, and taking notes on their effectiveness and the consequences of surviving. That’s how I first took an interest in medicine. And though I was still a morbid little child, slowly, over time, I grew ambivalent about the subject of death.

“The winter I turned seventeen, my father became ill. This had become a regular occurrence for us in the wintertime, but it was worse than usual that year. For over two weeks, he couldn’t leave bed. Because I was old enough, I filled in for him. It was during this period I saw Ulvenkeep Manor up close for the first time.

“I remember the snow had been coming down hard. The harsh weather and my inexperience kept me out hours later than I should have. I rode my father’s horse up to the gate with its master’s letters, but instead of handing them over to valet as I had before, the master happened to be passing by in his carriage and received them in person. His name was Friedolf. He had wavy red hair, a neatly kept beard, sharp eyes, and was the very image of how I had always imagined a refined gentleman should look. Friedolf invited me inside to warm myself. The valet took my father’s horse to be stabled, and I accepted Friedolf’s gloved hand, entering the carriage.

“Friedolf was pleased to learn that I was literate. He gave me wine and had me read poetry for him. We talked a bit more after that, and I opened up to him about my interest in medicine and my dream of managing an apothecary —since I was too poor to become a doctor. He watched me with this intensity that I had never seen in another person before, though I know the look well now. I was at that age when I was only just then starting to resemble a man. I did not yet know what it was like to be desired.

“After an hour had passed, I knew it was time that I should begin the ride back home. It’d already been dark for a few hours and was getting to be quite late. I remember how it looked outside when I opened the front door. The sky was clear, the snow had settled into smooth, empty sheets, and yet —for the life of me, I believed the storm to be at its worst. Dangerous even. Friedolf kindly welcomed me to stay the night in his guest room. I felt as though I was imposing, but I saw little other choice.

“He ordered a bath to be drawn for me in an adjacent room. Since that night, I have never seen such an exquisite washroom. I took my time cleaning myself, smelling the soaps, feeling the smoothness of the porcelain on my skin. When I stepped out of the bath to dry, I found that my clothes had been taken to be washed, replaced by only a thin robe.

“Friedolf was waiting for me when I entered the guest bedroom, standing at the end of the four-poster bed. He drew me close. I still remember the way his mustache tickled my face when he kissed me. That night, he took my virginity. It wasn’t—,” Angus paused to draw a sharp breath. “It wasn’t like how it had been with you and I. —He hurt me.”

Anatoliy did not speak as Angus gathered himself, though he pushed his jaw forward, and his nostrils flared.

Angus continued. “He was gone in the morning. It felt like it had all been some terrifying, beautiful dream. I wasn’t fit to ride, so I walked my father’s horse back home, not getting there until past noon. My parents were furious, but I told them nothing of what had happened the previous night. I expected it would be a repeat of the incident with the watchdog all over again, I suppose. The world looked different to me from then on. I felt and noticed things I never had before.

“A year passed. My household received a letter stating that I had been accepted to the college in Haffport at zero personal expense. At first, my parents lauded my accomplishments, but they changed their tone when I revealed that I, myself, had never applied. I was young and didn’t understand how these things worked. My mother had no other family except those on the southern continent, and my father only had his sister, who was preoccupied with her own family and swore she had nothing to do with it. They asked our neighbors, the local postmaster, the churches —no one would take ownership of it. Over and over, they begged me to think of who would have had the motive for such unprompted generosity, and why. I didn’t see why it should have mattered; I just wanted to take advantage of the opportunity. —Why bother questioning it?

“When they failed to find any answers, they refused to let me go. They didn’t seem to think that these things just happen. I hated them. Because I was working age, I started shadowing my father for the post, which I also resented. I had completely forgotten about Friedolf until I returned with my father to the manor. He stood in the shadow of the door, looking elegant and handsome as my father introduced him to me with great esteem. Friedolf was clearly disturbed when he asked my father why I was training for a menial job instead of attending school. My father hid his offense well, but I could tell Friedolf had wounded his dignity as a man and a provider.

“A month later, my father left for work just like any other day, but he never came back home.

“My mother grieved heavily. The color of her skin started to fade as she no longer went outside. I labored; caring for the hens and the garden and working for the post any day they’d let me, but I could never keep up. We never recovered my father’s horse, so I had to purchase a donkey from a neighbor and make regular payments just so I could maintain the privilege of having a job.

“One fateful night, our chickens were wiped out all at once, leaving none alive. My mother said she had seen a wolf, but I felt almost sure the creature had been an abnormally gigantic fox. The incident crushed us. By this time, it was clear to my mother and I both that she had become a burden to me, though neither of us would address it. She’d given up, and I had no other choice but to try my best to take care of us.

“I was twenty years old, returning from a very long day of work when I saw the column of smoke rising from the horizon. The area where my childhood home was meant to be had been replaced by a flickering orange smudge. My mother perished inside the flaming house. For a long time, I suspected that she’d lit the fire on purpose.

“With no family, no home, and nothing to my name, I finally accepted the scholarship and took residence in one of the college’s shabby dorms. I began to receive a mysterious monthly allowance. Slightly older now and having endured two straight years of tragedy, I’d become doubtful and started asking myself the same questions my parents had once asked about the nature of my patron. Who he was and why he was helping me was outside of my imagination. I focused on my studies and spent as little of the money as I could, feeding and clothing myself, but no more. Some creeping feeling had me believing the money was tainted. My accounts grew, and the number hung over me like an enormous debt.

“During that year, I met my first boyfriend. It was a short-lived and fairly chaste relationship; kissing and holding hands. One day, suddenly, he too had several questions about my patron. He became agitated by how I couldn’t supply a single answer. Over the subsequent days, he turned increasingly nervous and paranoid, until he eventually broke things off with no explanation.

“Summer approached. I was nervous about my lodgings, fearing I’d be forced to spend the savings I’d been so afraid to touch. I wrote my aunt to ask if I could stay with her, but she had just taken her husband’s parents in and had no more room.

“A week before the semester ended, Friedolf found me. He told me he’d heard of my misfortunes, gave his condolences, and offered to take me out to a lounge for a drink. I was surprised that he even remembered me, as I had nearly forgotten about him. Sitting in fine chairs, splitting a bottle of wine worth more than my own name, Friedolf revealed to me that he’d been funding my schooling. The night he met me, he’d resolved that I was too intelligent to waste my life on common labor. He believed I deserved better. But that wasn’t all. Despite his resistance; his yearning to stay objective as my patron —he’d fallen in love with me. Right there, at that very moment, I fell in love with him too.

“During that summer, and every subsequent summer while I remained in school, Ulvenkeep Manor was made my new home. I slept in downy beds that swallowed my body in their cushions, took long walks through prosperous gardens, and devoured novels from tall, well-stocked library shelves. Friedolf dressed me in beautiful, well-fitted clothes. Days and nights blurred into one another, and I’d often lose time as I drifted about in a dream-like state.

“Two other young folks were staying with Friedolf alongside me: Rex and Toutou. I struggled with their presence at first, but they kept to themselves until dinnertime each day, and Friedolf gave me no shortage of attention. I was thankful to be there at all. Sometimes, Friedolf would take one of them to bed with him, but on most nights, he chose me. Occasionally, he’d take all three of us with him and have us touch each other while he watched. It was awkward having sex with Toutou and Rex, but it wasn’t so strange after I’d done it a couple of times. I just wanted to make Friedolf happy.

“I grew lethargic in my final year at school. When it had all begun, I’d felt my luck had changed, and there was no place I’d rather be than at the college, but after three summers of endless bliss at Ulvenkeep, the rest of the world felt bleak in comparison. It had seemed Friedolf’s intention for me was to settle into a respectable, well-compensating career once I had completed my education. But, privately, I felt there was no reason I shouldn’t live out my days in summer eternal as Friedolf’s constant companion, though I never would have said it directly to him. He was, after all, a maturing bachelor, presumably in his forties -he was indirect about his exact age- no children, no shortage of wealth. I, myself, was twenty-four years old. I knew deep within that I could give him everything he wanted, that I could fill that insatiable, hungry hole in his heart.

“Friedolf took notice of my poor performance and came to the college to visit me in person. Keeping my more selfish thoughts to myself, I explained how I’d been suffering without him, that I didn’t want to go another day of my life not at his side —all the while preparing myself for him to lecture me about dismissing my boyish emotions so I could focus on my education. Instead, Friedolf dropped on his knees before me, held my face in his hand, slid his fingers down my throat, took my hands in his own, and asked me if I truly wished to be with him for eternity. Of course, I said yes.

“Promising he’d send for my things in the morning, Friedolf had me pack a small bag, and we returned to Ulvenkeep that night in his carriage. The whole ride back, he had me pinned in the corner of the coach, kissing me, especially on my neck. I could hardly wait to arrive back home and take our clothes off. The sky was clear, and the moon was full, glistening like a finely cut diamond. Friedolf carried me in his arms through the front doors, walked right past the stairs leading to the master bedroom, cut through the sitting room with its soft glowing fire and embroidered couches draped in animal furs, and out to the courtyard, where he laid me in the sweet-smelling grass amidst blooming dahlias and sculpted fountains. He told me to trust him, that he was going to make me so that I’d be young and beautiful for the rest of time, keep me as perfect to him as I was on that very night. I didn’t understand what he was saying, but the only thing I could do was lie there still. I couldn’t have run away, even if I had wanted to.

“Something wretched in my body knew when he drank my blood that it was not the first time he had done so. I would forget things sometimes —black out entire nights. I’d already come to accept my missing memories as a regular occurrence. But I understood then what had happened to me all those times as I stared into the starry sky, the warmth trickling out of my shivering body as I leaked into the dirt of Friedolf’s manicured lawn. To this day, I can’t look into the naked night sky without feeling a chill run down my spine.

“I became weak, near death, but he drew a dagger and cut himself on the collar, then held me up to drink his spirit. All I could do at first was lap at the spillage, but I soon regained strength and dug my teeth into him. Madness and euphoria rushed through my veins, bringing me to life anew, and from that night on, I was as He was.

“For nearly fifty years, I lived in that house. Friedolf doted on me, favored me, and spoiled me and my two siblings. I never had to go hunting. Friedolf supplied blood for us every night.

“My favorite times were when we’d host other members of the family as guests. They’d tell us fascinating stories, give us advice on survival, and tell us who in our family could be relied upon and who was not to be trusted. The other neophytes would be left behind with the three of us while Friedolf showed off his hunting grounds to the other Sires. They’d bring back dinner for us, and then we’d all share it together, and after usually would turn into a sharing game of sorts. It wasn’t too uncommon for an elder to steal me away from the others to someplace more private, and I liked that because after they were done with me was when the good conversation would pour out. Older vampires like to hear themselves talk, and I like listening to them, too. I’d get all the best gossip on nights like that, and they’d show off all their tricks and knowledge for how to get by better than everyone else. On some occasions, we’d get to visit homes and be guests ourselves, and that was even better than having family over, even though few had homes as majestic as Friedolf.

“Rex never came to accept me. On good days, he tolerated me. But Toutou and I became quite close, which I think drove Rex even deeper into his ire. I was never sure what was allowed, but Toutou and I would go off on our own sometimes to make love. Whenever we did, there was this pitiful, sad quality to it that I could never quite identify. Looking back, Friedolf had to have known, because Rex surely did, and he wouldn’t have missed a chance to spite us.

“I’m not sure exactly when, but around the fortieth year, Friedolf grew to be a bit more distant with me. He wasn’t unkind. —Distracted or disinterested maybe but I still worried I’d done something to dampen his affection. Only a few months after I’d noticed this change in his behavior, he started bringing around a young man, Fidel. Understand, at this point, I’d put aside petty feelings like jealousy. That is not what I felt. Something about having him around just made me anxious and uncomfortable, so I avoided him, just as Rex and Toutou had once done with me. It got so terrible that I would often fall into a panic, even when he was not around. I’d escape into the furthest, most obscure rooms of the house to release my screams.

“Foul, complicated dreams found me, stirring me awake in the middle of the daytime. I’d rise out of my bed and walk through the curtained halls, seeing the sharp beams of light that cut through the windows. I could not imagine the world beyond them, bathed in sun, though I had once been part of it. Leaving that world had not been a choice for me, and I could not say with certainty what my answer would have been if Friedolf had offered his gift in earnest. Surely, the spoiled, vain boy, stupid in love as I had been would have accepted without a thought, but what if I’d been insightful enough to be afraid? What would have happened to me if I had said ‘No’?

“I watched one night in the sitting room as Friedolf called out Fidel’s name. The boy turned and looked at him, and Friedolf silently stared into his eyes from across the room. Caught in his trance, Fidel drowsily walked up to him, and Friedolf drained him so severely the young man collapsed limply into his arms only seconds after being bitten. Friedolf lifted Fidel’s body and took him up the stairs. I felt . . . out of my own body as I watched the entire scene from my seat by the glow of the fireplace’s soft light. The next day, Fidel seemed somewhat tired but otherwise acted as naturally, as if nothing had happened. Rex even made covert jokes about it that Fidel was unable to catch.

“Toutou sought me out, and they told me they’d observed my worsening state. They only wanted to know how I was doing, but I could sense there was more, and I pressed them for answers until they relented. They explained that my reaction was probably because Friedolf had done the same to me when he’d first started bringing me around. He hadn’t just hypnotized me to drink my blood, though. Sometimes, he made me do humiliating things for entertainment, manipulating me like a puppet. There had even been times when he’d had all three of them drink from me together in my dazed state, and the time would likely come soon that he’d have me do the same with Fidel. I said I would never do it. Toutou went quiet for a moment, then told me there was more.

“Gently, they tried to explain to me that all those horrific events that had happened to me following the night that I first met Friedolf had been by his design: my father’s disappearance, my mother’s hysteria, the creature that had slain all of our chickens, the fire that had burned down my home, and yet more still. All this time, I had thought I’d endured tragedy, only for Friedolf to rescue me from life’s cruelty, but it had all been done deliberately to lead me directly into his embrace. I think part of me had known for a long time, but I still didn’t want to hear it spoken out loud.

“I went immediately to Friedolf and confronted him. I waited for him to deny it, to soothe me with the sweet lies that I was so ready to accept. But he never did. He laughed in my face, called me ungrateful for the life he had given me, not once apologizing for the life he’d taken away. And then Friedolf . . . And then he be— And then—”

Angus heaved, gripping his sides as he rocked on the bed. Anatoliy hesitated, then reached out to touch his face, and Angus cradled his shaggy head into the man’s callused hand. It wasn’t the worst thing to ever happen to anyone, and Angus was lucky enough to leave. Sometimes folk stay. Sometimes folk die without ever getting away. He used to listen, with his naked body twisted in silk sheets, as his elders told him about the monsters they’d escaped, about the families they’d made for themselves after. And Angus would think to himself how good he had it to have been chosen by Friedolf and not one of those monsters. The rough skin of Anatoliy’s freely offered hand held more comfort than the superficial illusions woven into those fine sheets. Angus would choose the former over the latter every day of his life if he could.

“Friedolf had never hurt me before,” Angus said, wincing as he corrected himself, “I mean, of course he had. —But that was the first time he ever did it, and I knew.

“I ran —with nothing but the clothes on my back and a pouch filled with a handful of blood-stained soil from the courtyard of Ulvenkeep Manor. Friedolf has attempted to contact me a few times since, but that was the last I ever saw him.”

Angus wet his lip and looked up through his coiled hair to assess Anatoliy’s expression, but it was difficult to read. A storm was brewing over his darkening face; dozens of thoughts buzzed below the surface. Angus could tell that whatever the man felt, he was doing his best to hide it.

“To-night. We are leaving this place —as soon as the sun is down,” Anatoliy said firmly.

“What—?” Angus choked.

“You had me believing you were on the run from the law, not a monstrous vampire. We are only a few day’s travel from Ulvenkeep; we must take you further. I will protect you.”

“N-no,” Angus’s voice cracked, “He’s strong. He’ll kill you.”

“I know, lapochka. That is why we’ll run. We will go as far from Ulvenkeep as we can,” Anatoliy answered sincerely.

Angus dipped his head. “Listen. You’re afraid. It’s perfectly understandable. But things aren’t as dire as you think. I wasn’t trying to deceive you when I said was on the run after I almost killed that wealthy man. That was the truth.” Just as he had told Esther, An Angus filled Anatoliy in on what had happened with Mikael and Beth, then explained all that had happened after he’d been executed.

“And that brings you here, where you met me,” concluded Anatoliy.

Angus nodded. “So you understand. Friedolf has had seven years to come for me if he meant to do so. I don’t blame you for your distress, but it’s not all so urgent if you want to complete your job first and then come back for me. I’ll wait for you.”

Anatoliy held Angus’s hand and stroked the trail of knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “You say it’s been seven years —but this creature has patiently hunted you for seven years already once before. He is willing to destroy your life and the lives of others to have what he wants.” He rose. “I will need to ready for our journey: purchase supplies, settle our accounts, pack and feed Zorya. I will be back before sunset. I promise, lyubimyy.” He tousled Angus’s hair.

Wisps of smoke trailed like incense, Angus’s arm catching spots of light as he tugged at the man’s shirt, pulling Anatoliy near him where he sat on the edge of the bed. Previously unsure of whether he should after all Angus had told him, Anatoliy cupped Angus’s face and dipped down to kiss him deeply. They stared into one another’s faces a moment longer, saying no more before Anatoliy departed.