Pyotr simply shrugs. There's not a shred of doubt in his mind that, shed of his dead weight, Andrey will be just fine, if not even better. He was the one with 'freedom of action' after all, wasn't he? Without his weaker younger brother to take care of, the world will be his oyster. Arguably Pyotr did him a favor by dying.

(And he would react poorly to being told otherwise, so really it's for the best that Daniil let the subject go...)

"You as well, old boy." He smiles slightly, raising his bottle in a toast. "The circumstances are certainly strange, but...I can't deny, it's a comfort to see your face." He sighs, resting his head on one hand.

"...So, tell me what you've been doing here. Is there more or less work for a thanatologist, in a world where death no longer counts?"