Date: 2007-06-28 04:31 am (UTC)
"Da," Ippolit said, holding himself very still and suppressing the instinct to back away until he left a MENT-shaped hole in the wall. "I mean, nyet. Nothing's wrong."

Except that a casual, innocent contact that felt far nicer than it had any right to had him staring like a deer in a searchlight.

And that the only change of subject that presented itself was the neccessity of reporting to the Colonel, and that didn't help at all.

Scylla and fucking Charybdis.
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The Groznyj Grad Living Novel

December 2010

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