“You’ve done this a great deal,” Legasov said.
“Party functions,” Boris answered. “Official receptions. Forty years of them.”
“Did you like it?”
Boris considered this with the seriousness he applied to questions that turned out to be harder than they looked.
“I liked some of it,” he said. “The music, usually. The dancing itself, with the right-” He paused. “It depends.”
“On what?”
“On the company,” Boris finally replied after a moment.
They moved in silence for a moment. Legasov was almost managing it – almost, with concentration, with the music, with Boris’s hand steady at his back and the rhythm finding him through the floor if he let it.
“Now,” Boris said, “you lead.”
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Finally done with this one 🥹 You've seen the WIPs, here's the result. This is an illustration for chapter 7 of my Valoris fic [The Birch Tree House]
