Marc's eyes were still closed when he answered the phone. His voice thick with sleep, syllables unusually slow.

"Hello?"

"Marc, hello."

Hesitant, cautious, unmistakable.

"Roman?" Superfluous question. "What's wrong?" It was, after all, three AM.

A soft, self-conscious chuckle. "I just..."

Marc sighed. Of course he just. He always just. But this was the first time in months he'd heard it. His stomach twisted; how he hated those words; how he loved that voice.

"Look, Roman, I don't think-"

"No." Decisive. "I'm sorry, I won't call again."

Silence. Neither hung up. Marc inhaled deeply, shut his eyes again.

"How's Essen?"