Dmitri, who'd still been taking in Ivan's presence after Katerina had slipped her arm in his, was ironically the one caught more off guard by her change in demeanor. She had disappeared into the kitchen before she could receive an answer for her question, obviously somewhat rhetorical. Dmitri looked on at the empty door frame leading to it, while Ivan looked at him.
"...What was that?" Ivan asked.
"I was wondering if you knew," Dmitri replied. "You've been around her these past few days--"
"No, no, not her. You." Ivan clarified. Dmitri turned back to him then, looking a mite confused. "What about me?"
"If you've chosen to accept her proposal, I would assume now is the time to act the part... it's me you embraced, and you didn't even touch her." Ivan sighed, having to explain this to him. "She's been made to wait twice as long for your arrival--it's all she can talk about, half the time-- surely you could have given her a bit more than that pitiful scene."
Dmitri hesitated a moment in his reply to that, and though there were so many obvious ways he could reply to that, he instead just nodded his head agreeably. "Yes, you're most likely right, brother. If you've been with her since you've received my letter-- well, you probably know her better than I do."
Very briefly, Ivan looked surprised, and was prepared to say what he did know her was the sort of things she would share with any friend of hers, he assumed... not the things a fiancee would. But Dmitri laughed again, before Ivan could defend himself-- did he not want him to defend himself?-- and touched his shoulder. "How fortunate you are here: you can be the Cyrano to my Christian, eh?" He led Ivan along to the sitting room with that. His voice had suggested he was only teasing Ivan, and his reference was regarding that he would be the one to tell him the right things to say. It did not allude Ivan, however, that the play he spoke of was one revolving two men in love with the same woman. Ivan caught a glimpse of Dmitri's profile as he led them to that room, but nothing in his face suggested contempt.
Ivan took his seat first, in the arm chair this time rather than on the couch where the couple would want to sit. However, he'd only sat for a moment before it creaked off balance. He awkwardly adjusted himself, as in the meantime, Dmitri retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his pant pocket. He had it that two came out at once, and offered it in Ivan's direction, who abstained with a hand up. With a shrug, Dmitri took the one for himself then, and lit it. It was at that time that Katerina reemerged from the kitchen, Ivan looking up to see if she needed help-- his hands still braced on each arm rest, trying to find where this wiggly chair's center of gravity was-- while Dmitri was idly looking over the books that had been left on the coffee table.