Oh, good, now there was crying on top of everything else... Viktor stiffened; he had never been good with people crying in front of him, it was all kinds of awkward. His arms were stiff at his sides, unsure where to put them. He understood the words themselves, of course, but in context he couldn't decipher what they were actually saying.
"I..." he started, and paused. His mouth felt dry, and the tear-stained face against his chest looked up at him, still sniffling. It should be familiar, at least that was the strong sense he had; but at the moment, for whatever reason, he couldn't attach a name to the face. His mind was just... blank.
"I don't - I - " Oh for god's sake, Nikiforov, just spit it out. "I'm sorry, where am I? And... who are you?"