A sea of faces was filled with opportunity, yet also with much else less pleasant. Noise and smell and irritation drove him to quieter corners of the castle. Though less the spot he might overhear or insert himself into important conversation, it gave him the rare opportunity to relax in his studies. Better yet, outside of the confines of his quarters, his wife would have more trouble forcing her unique charm upon him. 

Pyotr found the drawing room not entirely empty, but certainly quiet. He set himself upon a comfortable chair without a desk, opposite another, occupied couch with a long, wooden table between them. Upon it, he rested his book - the same Irina had prevented him from reading on an earlier occasion; a german book on the french language. Alongside it, a little wicker demijohn and wooden cup, brought down from his quarters. 

Before even opening his book, he uncorked the flask and poured himself a glass. As he did so, he eyed the fellow opposite him and offered him a smile of acknowledgement. “Would you care for a drink, sir?” he asked pleasantly. The man was, by sight, unfamiliar to him, but as much could change with such a question.