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“That is poor design.”

I stare at him. “Don’t agree with him.”

Alexei looks up. “I agreed with the color problem.”

Misha pushes the button again.

Nothing happens because Abramov has temporarily locked the button from downstairs.

Alexei catches his finger. “Once is a mistake. Twice means a time-out.”

Misha studies him, then clasps his hands behind his back. “I don’t like time-outs.”

“Then we understand each other.”

By three, he has hidden Sergei’s access card inside the dump truck, put crushed crackers in the toy ambulance, and asked Oksana to read the same bear book five times. When she changes one word on the sixth reading, he corrects her from beneath a pile of cushions. Mikhail sits in a corner playing with his red car and taking no notice of Misha.

At home, Galina would have fed him, argued him onto the bed, and sent me a message saying he had closed his eyes for twelve minutes and deserved a medal.

Here, every adult treats him like visiting royalty. It makes him charming, bold, and unbearable.

I carry him back to our suite after he throws a wooden carrot because Mikhail refuses to be a grocery customer.

“You don’t throw things,” I tell him, setting him on the rug.

“He didn’t buy it.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“It was fresh.”

I kneel in front of him. “You’re tired.”

“No.”

“You’re rubbing your eyes.”

“They’re itchy.”

“You yawned.”

“My mouth was stretching.”

I point toward his bedroom. “Rest.”

He folds his arms, turns his head, and gives me Alexei’s exact expression when Irina brings medication.

The resemblance almost makes me laugh.

Instead, I sit beside him on the bed and open the whale book. He lasts three pages before curling against my side. His fingers remain wrapped around the yellow car, and his breath warms the inside of my elbow.

When he wakes an hour later, he asks for Alexei.

I pretend not to hear.

That evening, I cross the corridor to the private medical bay after Irina tells me Alexei pulled at the edge of his dressing while reaching for a lower file drawer. He sits bare-chested on the exam bed with his black shirt folded beside him, reading a report.

“Put that down,” I say.