The guys felt awkward, as if they had been monstrously untactful, forcing themselves to be tolerated out of mere politeness. They felt an urge to leave, but leaving just like that, with nothing told or heard in response, seemed impossible, and all they could do was exchange embarrassed glances.
“Have you been to the cemetery?” Artyom asked. He did it so sharply, his bluntness made Iskra shiver. But that was the tone that drove Leonid Sergeevich out of his stoop.
“Yes, I have. The fence is blue. Flowers everywhere. The bush is good. A good bait for birds, too, though.”
“A good one,” Zhora affirmed, and went on rubbing his swollen fists.
Luberetsky’s voice was constrained and colorless, he was talking briskly, and having said his words, he plunged back into heavy silence. “It’s better we leave now,” Val’ka whispered. “We are bothering him.” Artyom gave him an outraged look, then took a lungful and made a step toward Luberetsky. He put his hand on Luberetsky’s shoulder, slightly shaking it,…