Volgin looked at Ocelot sternly, and raised a finger.
"You'd better be telling me the truth, Ocelot. If I find out you lied about this, I'm not going to be pleased," he said, but his tone was mild.
In Volgin's mind, only he was allowed to kill people on a whim in Groznyj Grad, though he would make an allowance for Ocelot.
He sensed something in the insolent major, something sharp and ruthless that he liked. It was an instinct that could be honed, Volgin thought. There was some paternal part of him that wanted to cultivate it, and watch it bloom.
Ocelot always seemed to fight that ruthless instinct, however, though Volgin thought he really would enjoy it, if he just gave it a chance.
He let out a sigh, and turned to Ivan, who was standing at his side, and wearing that look of complete attachment, the one that even Volgin couldn't read.
"This wasn't worth the interruption," he muttered to Ivan, regretting even more now that one of their precious few moments alone together had been squandered because some fool didn't know what to do about a dead body.
He turned back to Ocelot. "So who was he? Who killed him?" Volgin gestured at the burned corpse, impatiently.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-01-24 12:00 am (UTC)"You'd better be telling me the truth, Ocelot. If I find out you lied about this, I'm not going to be pleased," he said, but his tone was mild.
In Volgin's mind, only he was allowed to kill people on a whim in Groznyj Grad, though he would make an allowance for Ocelot.
He sensed something in the insolent major, something sharp and ruthless that he liked. It was an instinct that could be honed, Volgin thought. There was some paternal part of him that wanted to cultivate it, and watch it bloom.
Ocelot always seemed to fight that ruthless instinct, however, though Volgin thought he really would enjoy it, if he just gave it a chance.
He let out a sigh, and turned to Ivan, who was standing at his side, and wearing that look of complete attachment, the one that even Volgin couldn't read.
"This wasn't worth the interruption," he muttered to Ivan, regretting even more now that one of their precious few moments alone together had been squandered because some fool didn't know what to do about a dead body.
He turned back to Ocelot. "So who was he? Who killed him?" Volgin gestured at the burned corpse, impatiently.