It wasn't far to the end of the hall, from there it was out the metal door and down four flights of external concrete stairs.
The chill was welcome against his chest as Andrei pushed open the door.
He sighed, pleased, letting the fresh evening breeze lift his hair as his cheeks were touched by small, glinting stars of snow.
Perfect. The snow was deep and thick in this part of the yard, the tanks blanketed.
Andrei paused on the landing, putting his arm around Borisnakov's shoulder companionably.
"All right, here's the deal, Vladislaus. See those four tanks? Look what's hanging at the end of each barrel. There's your beret, your scarf, your gloves and your holster."
He shot a look at Irinarhov, a fleeting and conspiratory smile, before turning back to Borishnakov.
"Your boots, however, are in the dog yard. Right over...there." Andrei grinned. "They're in one of the dog houses. Probably Goliath's, if I don't miss my guess. He's Sergei's favorite," he explained, aside.
Andrei knew it depended on the recruit's personal cold tolerance how many trips a man had to take back to the banya and out again to retrieve all his items.
Occasionally someone made it to his boots and wriggled out to the ends of all the tank barrels in one trip.
He was betting on Borishnakov to be among the more hardcore, seeing as he was stone staggering drunk.
"You might want to get the boots first," he suggested, raising his eyebrows. "Without them you get a lot colder."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-09-09 04:34 am (UTC)The chill was welcome against his chest as Andrei pushed open the door.
He sighed, pleased, letting the fresh evening breeze lift his hair as his cheeks were touched by small, glinting stars of snow.
Perfect. The snow was deep and thick in this part of the yard, the tanks blanketed.
Andrei paused on the landing, putting his arm around Borisnakov's shoulder companionably.
"All right, here's the deal, Vladislaus. See those four tanks? Look what's hanging at the end of each barrel. There's your beret, your scarf, your gloves and your holster."
He shot a look at Irinarhov, a fleeting and conspiratory smile, before turning back to Borishnakov.
"Your boots, however, are in the dog yard. Right over...there." Andrei grinned. "They're in one of the dog houses. Probably Goliath's, if I don't miss my guess. He's Sergei's favorite," he explained, aside.
Andrei knew it depended on the recruit's personal cold tolerance how many trips a man had to take back to the banya and out again to retrieve all his items.
Occasionally someone made it to his boots and wriggled out to the ends of all the tank barrels in one trip.
He was betting on Borishnakov to be among the more hardcore, seeing as he was stone staggering drunk.
"You might want to get the boots first," he suggested, raising his eyebrows. "Without them you get a lot colder."