Anya is relieved that Gleb doesn't ask her what she meant. If pressed, she could find an answer, knows the obvious one is that it is better to be walking with him than walking alone. However that isn't the only reason she prefers this, ending her night quietly and alone with him. It is a good reminder of how far she has come, of who she is and was and what she wants now. Despite the awkwardness of their first meetings, the division between deputy commissioner and street sweeper, she believes that they really are friends now.

That should be enough.

Somehow it doesn't quite feel like it is.

Laughing softly at his admission, she turns her head and looks up at him. Her pace isn't as rapid as it would be alone. They're walking almost leisurely despite the fact that it is winter. It isn't cold. Certainly not by Russian standards. "No, I wouldn't think that you would. I barely remember what to do that a party like that. I felt a bit lost," she shakes her heads before brushing it away with small gesture. "You are right. It's been over a hundred years since Imperia; Russia became just a memory. This was meant to be the 1940s, but it still felt like so long rather than just twenty years. It is very confusing."