- You don't think it's dangerous? Introduce it into society? What's the matter, to introduce it. Its creation can have a lot of influence on it, did you think about it? - one of the two men in the room was waving a piece of lemon in his hand.
The other man looked at him like he was crazy. Well, who liked to see a man waving his arms and lemons?
- I didn't say it wasn't dangerous," he said in a fake, soft, kind voice. This is the tone they usually used to talk to someone who is on the verge of a breakdown or has gone mad. The other person couldn't help but hear this falsity, it pissed him off even more - he was already nervous. - I even think it was more than risky. But...
- Then why the hell would you tell me we're doing all this? If they find out about it at the top, neither you nor me will say hello. If you are completely overwhelmed by yourself, I am still saving myself. - Despite the scream, the tone of this first man still felt some respect.
- Loginov, will you calm down first? Otherwise, I will have to remove you from the project. - But this sounded somehow powerful. It is clear. The person who paid for such a room, can not flatter or speak ingratiatingly.
The room really wasn't bad. Loginov even believed that his interlocutor could easily take off two suites and not blink an eye. But he didn't want to glow, apparently. As if he was doing something criminal. Although... that's how it was, as a matter of fact.
Loginov, barely approaching number 35, understood that Korsakov (emphasis on the first syllable) - the name of the interlocutor - did not skimp on convenience. Loginov himself believed that if Korsakov did not want, as already mentioned, to glow, he could have rented a room in a hotel at all. But it was here that he needed it. Apparently, he did not dare to reject the luxury he was accustomed to.
But we will return to our room.
The door was made of mahogany, real mahogany. The room itself was made in a classic style, with all the furniture in ivory and bitter chocolate. Opposite the door there is a window, the window has a wide light sofa, two-room flowers, it seems to be begonia. Since Loginov's wife was a flower girl, he knew a little about the plants' appearance.
In the room to the right was a chic single bed made of oak and painted dark. Next to it, there was a nightstand, a phone and a few sheets of paper. The window is smaller than in the living room and the front hung with thick velvet curtains.
Loginov couldn't see anything else. He glanced into the bedroom as well, passing by and sitting down at the table, which, as it turned out, stood by the wall, but, looking at the rest of the luxury, the guest did not immediately notice it.
Korsakov sat freely, but at the same time with restraint, as aristocrats usually do. The facial expression shouted, "I am God compared to you, you jerks! Korsakov behaved arrogantly in general. He sincerely believed that he was the best of all, and it was not even about money. It must have been something innate and incomprehensible. If Loginov tried to understand it first, then he quit.
Korsakov always dressed elegantly. And now he came in black trousers and a jacket and a white shirt unbuttoned on one top button. Perhaps this detail also gave him the freedom to posture, as well as his head, which was slightly tilted backward. Dark hair and very dark, almost black eyes. Lovers of classical literature, rather than modern and sometimes stupid books, would immediately say that Korsakov reminds them of the Count.
Loginov sat down at the table freely too, but it was a completely different free pose. So sat men in a bar with friends or at home in front of the TV. His legs were wide open, his hands stretched out over the table. Loginov always considered himself a man without complexes. He hated hypocrisy and despised flattery. He always said what he thought right in the face. Loginov had discerning brown eyes, rough facial features, strong arms, and legs. As for his age... he was fifty, he was soon to be fifty-one, though they gave him no more than forty-two. Loginov spent forty years in the police and was leaving with a heavy heart. He didn't even think he could get so attached to anything, especially not to material things. He just got used to coming to work every day, cleaning up files and solving murders. It became as simple, ordinary and familiar to him as brushing his teeth in the morning.
Loginov quit not long ago, about six months ago. And almost immediately he was offered to participate in the project. At first, Loginov flatly refused - everything was secret from the authorities, from the police, and he, as a former honest worker who never took bribes, did not like it. His instinct, the instinct of a cop, as they all called it in his department, told him not just to disagree, but to report everything. But after thinking it over, Loginov agreed. We need money, we need work. Otherwise, how can he live? And the sum was added up.
