It was good to be back home. The quiet of the night gave him the false sense of security that it always did, that the quiet would last into the morning and stretch into the following evening. Logically, he knew it wouldn't. His house had been cheap for a reason. There was always something happening in this neighborhood.

He hung up his coat and checked the entry way table. In a little basket sat all the mail he had recieved while away, brought in by Dmitry and Anatoly as they took turns checking on Timur's home. Junk mail, mostly. He wasn't quite sure how to get the junk mail to stop coming. He took the few pieces of important mail with him to the living room, setting them on the table next to his plush recliner. He would deal with it all later. For now, peace and quiet, and a healthy dose of television.