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"Then take it back." Robert's glare was challenging, as he leaned in, imposing himself down on Kostya's form. "That's why I came here today. Maybe I hope for a million things. You know what, that's my thing. I hope. I don't stop hoping until my heart stops beating, and then, even then, maybe a little more after. But the real reason I came here today was real simple."

They'd been having such a nice conversation. But Robert's expression had darkened into something so unfamiliar on his face. A darkness that could be felt in the air, heavy like increasing gravity. "Instead of giving up so much, especially on twitter where every ******** nosy a** tom d**k and harry can see, get off your a** and be there for her. Because I promise you something, Kostya."

He stood up, brushed off his pants, and stood there, rigid and stubborn. "I will."

It wasn't the greatest start to a friendship ever, but neither was Robert the smartest person. He remained where he was, and waited for Kostya to decide whether he was going to get up and be a man, or stand down and let everything he cared about pass him by.

This was about the time his phone rang.

Robert choked and pulled out his phone, fumbling with it until it was open and holding it to his ear. "Hello??"

Truly, there was no need for Robert to assert his dominance over Kostya: he was well aware of his position at the bottom of ladder. He had already won, and that was why this had started in the first place. Because he no longer fit into Mimsy's life, not normally. Robert would get to have all of that: he would not fight for that.

But perhaps Robert had a point. He was needy enough, surely, to not want to...leave her be. Kostya ached for the quiet camaraderie they used to share: quiet, without complications. If he could not exist as her device then he would, at least, grant her some semblance of humanity with habits that hearkened back to a simpler time.

Robert's reassurance that he would be there merely made him worry. Not for anyone's sake, but for Mimsy's need for an audience that understood her cruelty, her madness, her ferocity-- understood it, and embraced it. He wondered if Mimsy had detailed to him the manic excitement she had felt over her triumph over Clerise, how she had ensured the woman's weapon would not see the day where he could serve another hunter.

"Thank you," he said, right before the phone rang, not yet finishing his thought as someone with a deeply insidious voice spoke to the Life hunter over the phone. Mimsy was the good Doctor Frankenstein, and so Kostya knew he had to resume being her loyal Fritz.

He and Robert were on opposite sides of her, unwittingly pulling Mimsy in two directions, Kostya was willing to work...around her poor choices in company. It did not answer the question of his purpose-- no, that was a topic for serious rumination, and it was quite possible the Russian would not have a good answer until he found a new figurehead that provided him with enough structure to live by.

But maybe that was enough. For now. He wondered what sort of food Robert enjoyed, so that he could prepare him a meal, as a token of his thanks. He imagined a great deal of bacon might need to be procured.