Andrei stood and listened, hearing nothing but the low tones of conversation from the room beyond.
Whether it was threatening or not, he couldn't discern. For that matter, it could just as easily have been the cosmonaut talking to himself while Ocelot bled on the floor.
After a moment he decided he couldn't in good conscience stay outside and play the waiting game.
If Ocelot was fine, no harm done- he never admonished them for watching his back, no matter how proactive their efforts, though occasionally he grumbled like a schoolboy- and if he wasn't all right..well, then he and Irinarhov had a duty to protect their CO at all costs.
Even the Fury would understand that, Andrei thought, suddenly, as it occurred to him that the man may have been psychotic, but seemed to have an inherent respect for loyalty and military honor.
He could hope he was right.
And after all, he'd only come for his fetching red scarf.
...
Ilya's scarf.
Isaev turned and flashed a barely perceptible sign to Irinarhov. He didn't bother making it grandiose; he knew the sniper's eyes had never left him since he'd settled in to roost on the skybridge, and that he would be watching every second unfailingly until they cleared the situation.
There was no reason to assume anything, he reminded himself. The cosmonaut was expecting him, in any case, so best to go with that assumption.
Andrei straightened his beret and knocked on the door.
no subject
Whether it was threatening or not, he couldn't discern. For that matter, it could just as easily have been the cosmonaut talking to himself while Ocelot bled on the floor.
After a moment he decided he couldn't in good conscience stay outside and play the waiting game.
If Ocelot was fine, no harm done- he never admonished them for watching his back, no matter how proactive their efforts, though occasionally he grumbled like a schoolboy- and if he wasn't all right..well, then he and Irinarhov had a duty to protect their CO at all costs.
Even the Fury would understand that, Andrei thought, suddenly, as it occurred to him that the man may have been psychotic, but seemed to have an inherent respect for loyalty and military honor.
He could hope he was right.
And after all, he'd only come for his fetching red scarf.
...
Ilya's scarf.
Isaev turned and flashed a barely perceptible sign to Irinarhov. He didn't bother making it grandiose; he knew the sniper's eyes had never left him since he'd settled in to roost on the skybridge, and that he would be watching every second unfailingly until they cleared the situation.
There was no reason to assume anything, he reminded himself. The cosmonaut was expecting him, in any case, so best to go with that assumption.
Andrei straightened his beret and knocked on the door.