"Didn't your Grandmere Vorrutyer marry one of Pierre 'le Sanguinaire''s kids? I think she'd be happy for you. Like calls to like, you know." What that says about him, Ivan won't examine too closely. Instead he's just going to avoid looking at the rug that is Just a Rug, settling on a point above Byerly's shoulder. He should never have gotten up this morning, he should have told Byerly 'no' when he first asked, he should have never have ended up here in the first place.

Fine, he'll play a long for a bit. "Alright. What do you plan on doing with this rug, By?" Surely he has some sort of plan. A ditch to throw it down. Something that isn't going to call attention to two men struggling carrying a rug through the snow in the middle of a war zone.

Good God, he wants a drink.