So this was The Fury. One of the famous Cobra unit. Rakitin hadn't met any of them yet, excepting their leader, The Boss, a woman who would have been tall and imposing anywhere except beside the Colonel, and who had looked as though she could snap Ippolit's neck by thinking about it.
There were six of them, including her. Five. He kept forgetting that one of them had died a few years ago. Ippolit's tally was thrown off by the way someone with a macabre sense of humor had written in "The Sorrow" at the bottom of the roster in his files, in a neat, Gothic script.
"You don't need a spacesuit here," Ippolit said helpfully, sealing the finger safely in plastic. "The atmosphere's perfectly breathable."
He paused, remembering what they said about assumptions.
"It must be," he concluded. "Otherwise one of us would have fallen down by now."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-05-18 11:41 pm (UTC)There were six of them, including her. Five. He kept forgetting that one of them had died a few years ago. Ippolit's tally was thrown off by the way someone with a macabre sense of humor had written in "The Sorrow" at the bottom of the roster in his files, in a neat, Gothic script.
"You don't need a spacesuit here," Ippolit said helpfully, sealing the finger safely in plastic. "The atmosphere's perfectly breathable."
He paused, remembering what they said about assumptions.
"It must be," he concluded. "Otherwise one of us would have fallen down by now."