On some level, Gleb knows that that's all the more reason why he shouldn't voice his own probably irrational thoughts on the matter. What Anya has lost isn't more than plenty of other people have lost as well, and yet that can't possibly diminish the weight of it, especially now that she does remember what happened that night. Of course, he fails to see how losing Dmitry under such calmer circumstances could possibly compare to that, but it isn't his right to say so. He hardly knew the other man, after all, even if he knew just enough to dislike him immensely. None of them asked for the situation in which they wound up here, some strange, stilted triangle that would never have come to pass anywhere else, but that doesn't make it alright for Dmitry to have acted the way he did about it.
Gleb reminds himself, not for the first and almost certainly not for the last time, that he doesn't really know what Anya and Dmitry's history is, but he can't see how the details of that really matter. It doesn't change what happened here. It wouldn't bring him back, either, and guilty as he might feel for it, Gleb is glad — or relieved, more accurately — that that's the case. From what he's seen and heard, from Dmitry going to Anya just to profess his love to her, to that awful afternoon in the elevator, to the last time they spoke, it seems unlikely that Dmitry would ever have stopped trying to win her over and push him out of the picture.
He stepped back the first time because it was what made the most sense. Anya is the one who stopped him from doing so again. He doesn't really think she would wish to take that back — not with the way the past month has gone — but that doesn't make it any easier to be on the receiving end of her grief for someone else now, summoned here because she needed him in another's absence. A chill runs through him; he suppresses it as best he can.
"No one's going to blame you for it," he says, brow furrowing slightly. It's the easiest, most detached thing to comment on. "Why would they? It happens here."
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Gleb reminds himself, not for the first and almost certainly not for the last time, that he doesn't really know what Anya and Dmitry's history is, but he can't see how the details of that really matter. It doesn't change what happened here. It wouldn't bring him back, either, and guilty as he might feel for it, Gleb is glad — or relieved, more accurately — that that's the case. From what he's seen and heard, from Dmitry going to Anya just to profess his love to her, to that awful afternoon in the elevator, to the last time they spoke, it seems unlikely that Dmitry would ever have stopped trying to win her over and push him out of the picture.
He stepped back the first time because it was what made the most sense. Anya is the one who stopped him from doing so again. He doesn't really think she would wish to take that back — not with the way the past month has gone — but that doesn't make it any easier to be on the receiving end of her grief for someone else now, summoned here because she needed him in another's absence. A chill runs through him; he suppresses it as best he can.
"No one's going to blame you for it," he says, brow furrowing slightly. It's the easiest, most detached thing to comment on. "Why would they? It happens here."