"Well, yeah, but - " Kassian started, then broke off.
He held Isaev's gaze, which was clear and penetrating and steady. Isaev didn't look at him that way unless it was important, unless he needed Kassian to know something, and Kassian found himself frowning slowly.
"Well, a whore..." he started, but then thought maybe he shouldn't phrase it like that, in case Aryol took offense, "...a woman like that, she wouldn't...keep a child she got accidentally, would she? They have...things...they do, don't they, in case that happens?"
He spoke hesitantly, knowing that even as he said the words, Isaev was right, and nothing was impossible.
Kassian turned back to Aryol, and took a step closer, and really looked at him this time, studying the shape of his eyes and the color of his skin, and the curve of his mouth and the thick, wiry chunks of hair that stood up on their own.
There was something about Aryol's mouth that was sweet and sad, and reminded Kassian of his mother. In the stubborn tilt of Aryol's jaw, he saw one of his father's expressions. And there, in the dark intensity of Aryol's gaze, he saw himself, willful and determined.
Kassian's brow furrowed. "Maybe it's not impossible," he said, softly.
He didn't know what that would mean, if it were true. What Aryol might want from him, and what he could give. And if he would one day do something that would make make Aryol hate him.
He wasn't even considering the possibility as being possible, a few moments ago, but now, when he really thought about it, Kassian found it scared him.
Kassian glanced at Vitya, who watched them with wary, guarded eyes. The particular set of his shoulders, tensed and slightly hunched, Kassian read as defensive, though he didn't understand why.
He looked back at Aryol, and took in the details once more, but his eye was drawn to the rifle barrel he saw jutting up from behind Aryol's shoulder. Not a Mosin-Nagant, but rather something sleeker, and newer. A Dragunov, he knew, though he'd only read about them, and never seen one in person.
"You're a sniper," he said, and he heard a faint hint of surprise in his own voice. Isaev had said as much earlier, but it was only now that he really thought about what that meant, and all the implications that followed.
Aryol glanced over to the side, where Isaev stood. "He said 258."
Kassian looked in Isaev's direction, and his mouth twitched, fondly. "Well. He's generous," he said, feeling a sudden warmth and gratitude toward Isaev, but he didn't know why, exactly. Maybe the generosity, or maybe it was just the thought of Isaev talking up his kill count.
He met Isaev's eyes for a moment, regarding him with with a fleeting, but heartfelt look of deep affection.
"How many sniper kills?"
Kassian glanced down and rubbed the back of his neck. "76."
"Oh, holy Christ!" Aryol said, and looked at him incredulously.
"It's not that big of a deal," Kassian said. "It was different during the war, and that was my job. That's why I worked alone, instead of with a partner, like most."
Vitya made a soft but impatient noise, and Kassian recalled that his sniper-kill count had been a particularly sore spot when it came to Viktor's resentment of Kassian's kill tally.
He glanced at Vitya, who was scowling at the range.
"But...like I said, most of those came during the war," Kassian finished.
A silence fell then, one of those awkward pauses in conversation that Kassian never knew what to do with. He looked at Isaev and shrugged, helplessly, shaking his head. He found all of this hard to believe.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-08-27 03:38 am (UTC)He held Isaev's gaze, which was clear and penetrating and steady. Isaev didn't look at him that way unless it was important, unless he needed Kassian to know something, and Kassian found himself frowning slowly.
"Well, a whore..." he started, but then thought maybe he shouldn't phrase it like that, in case Aryol took offense, "...a woman like that, she wouldn't...keep a child she got accidentally, would she? They have...things...they do, don't they, in case that happens?"
He spoke hesitantly, knowing that even as he said the words, Isaev was right, and nothing was impossible.
Kassian turned back to Aryol, and took a step closer, and really looked at him this time, studying the shape of his eyes and the color of his skin, and the curve of his mouth and the thick, wiry chunks of hair that stood up on their own.
There was something about Aryol's mouth that was sweet and sad, and reminded Kassian of his mother. In the stubborn tilt of Aryol's jaw, he saw one of his father's expressions. And there, in the dark intensity of Aryol's gaze, he saw himself, willful and determined.
Kassian's brow furrowed. "Maybe it's not impossible," he said, softly.
He didn't know what that would mean, if it were true. What Aryol might want from him, and what he could give. And if he would one day do something that would make make Aryol hate him.
He wasn't even considering the possibility as being possible, a few moments ago, but now, when he really thought about it, Kassian found it scared him.
Kassian glanced at Vitya, who watched them with wary, guarded eyes. The particular set of his shoulders, tensed and slightly hunched, Kassian read as defensive, though he didn't understand why.
He looked back at Aryol, and took in the details once more, but his eye was drawn to the rifle barrel he saw jutting up from behind Aryol's shoulder. Not a Mosin-Nagant, but rather something sleeker, and newer. A Dragunov, he knew, though he'd only read about them, and never seen one in person.
"You're a sniper," he said, and he heard a faint hint of surprise in his own voice. Isaev had said as much earlier, but it was only now that he really thought about what that meant, and all the implications that followed.
Aryol positively beamed. "Yeah. Sixteen kills. You?"
"228," Kassian said.
Aryol glanced over to the side, where Isaev stood. "He said 258."
Kassian looked in Isaev's direction, and his mouth twitched, fondly. "Well. He's generous," he said, feeling a sudden warmth and gratitude toward Isaev, but he didn't know why, exactly. Maybe the generosity, or maybe it was just the thought of Isaev talking up his kill count.
He met Isaev's eyes for a moment, regarding him with with a fleeting, but heartfelt look of deep affection.
"How many sniper kills?"
Kassian glanced down and rubbed the back of his neck. "76."
"Oh, holy Christ!" Aryol said, and looked at him incredulously.
"It's not that big of a deal," Kassian said. "It was different during the war, and that was my job. That's why I worked alone, instead of with a partner, like most."
Vitya made a soft but impatient noise, and Kassian recalled that his sniper-kill count had been a particularly sore spot when it came to Viktor's resentment of Kassian's kill tally.
He glanced at Vitya, who was scowling at the range.
"But...like I said, most of those came during the war," Kassian finished.
A silence fell then, one of those awkward pauses in conversation that Kassian never knew what to do with. He looked at Isaev and shrugged, helplessly, shaking his head. He found all of this hard to believe.