The last thing he wanted was to be calmed, swathed in the toxic comforting darkness of alcohol, swimming through his veins, numbing his senses. He wanted time, and resources. Instead, he took the glass that Ocelot sat on the corner of his desk, and downed it in on gulp. “Give me the whole bottle.” He murmured, laying his head down on the desk and shutting his eyes. “Give me everything in the cabinet.”
The polished African mahogany was mercifully cold against his cheek, and he chose to ignore the twinge of soreness in his brow that made him want to wince away.
Mikhail would have addressed the stitches with an amused smirk and a lingering touch, and laughed that Krauss was finally doing the work of a real Russian for a change.
“He had a son.” The Major blurted, “and a wife, away in Moscow. Another child on the way, he was hoping for a daughter, due in May. A charming double life like the rest of us.”
Krauss sighed, and remained still as Motte picked her way across his desk, poking her flattened nose at his fountain pen. He didn’t even shoo the Persian away when she began lapping the remnants of scotch from his glass.
“I don’t want the file.” He said finally. “I don’t want to know what they did to my dear, dear friend.” His voice cracked, but he kept his composure, carefully, taking a deep breath and holding it. “I believe I may have some insight into… you make it all sound so clinical… the things. Sodomy. I don’t like that word, I never have. All the sinners of Sodom, lost to the fire and brimstone.”
He looked up at Ocelot finally, but for only a brief moment, and wiped his eyes. “I have no doubts about the sort of clothing you found…the sensual things of a feminine nature. Pink, with detailing of tiny yellow flowers, trimmed in complimenting lace around the edges. Stefan was fond of these things, fond of wearing them under his uniform when he paid visits to Groznyj Grad. That does not surprise me, not at all.” Momentarily, his stomach did a flop, and he thought he might be violently sick. There was a sudden coldness to the room that was entirely unnatural.
There was a firm knock at the door, but Krauss did not move from his chair. He glanced at his pocket watch, and sighed when the guest knocked again, more urgently.
“It is the Pain, from the Cobra Unit.” There was really no need to mention what unit the hornet charmer was from, Krauss realized.
The Cobra soldier did not knock a third time, but took it upon himself to open the door. A single hornet trickled in, flying around the room with peculiar enthusiasm. A new place, how fantastically exciting, filled with new pheromones. The Pain, however, did not follow; he looked from Ocelot to Krauss and back again.
“Please. Not right now.” The German managed. “If we could reschedule this? This is a very bad time. I am…”
“Suffering.” The hornet charmer observed, with a nod. “When you are finished, then.” He moved, and the insect followed, lighting on the front of his vest, where it was more than camouflaged in the yellow-black striping. “Enjoy yourself, Major.” He shut the door, quietly.
Krauss looked to Ocelot, thankful for a diversion. “He wants a heated aircraft hangar, fully furnished for his bees. Don't we all?”
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-01-31 06:03 pm (UTC)The polished African mahogany was mercifully cold against his cheek, and he chose to ignore the twinge of soreness in his brow that made him want to wince away.
Mikhail would have addressed the stitches with an amused smirk and a lingering touch, and laughed that Krauss was finally doing the work of a real Russian for a change.
“He had a son.” The Major blurted, “and a wife, away in Moscow. Another child on the way, he was hoping for a daughter, due in May. A charming double life like the rest of us.”
Krauss sighed, and remained still as Motte picked her way across his desk, poking her flattened nose at his fountain pen. He didn’t even shoo the Persian away when she began lapping the remnants of scotch from his glass.
“I don’t want the file.” He said finally. “I don’t want to know what they did to my dear, dear friend.” His voice cracked, but he kept his composure, carefully, taking a deep breath and holding it. “I believe I may have some insight into… you make it all sound so clinical… the things. Sodomy. I don’t like that word, I never have. All the sinners of Sodom, lost to the fire and brimstone.”
He looked up at Ocelot finally, but for only a brief moment, and wiped his eyes. “I have no doubts about the sort of clothing you found…the sensual things of a feminine nature. Pink, with detailing of tiny yellow flowers, trimmed in complimenting lace around the edges. Stefan was fond of these things, fond of wearing them under his uniform when he paid visits to Groznyj Grad. That does not surprise me, not at all.” Momentarily, his stomach did a flop, and he thought he might be violently sick. There was a sudden coldness to the room that was entirely unnatural.
There was a firm knock at the door, but Krauss did not move from his chair. He glanced at his pocket watch, and sighed when the guest knocked again, more urgently.
“It is the Pain, from the Cobra Unit.” There was really no need to mention what unit the hornet charmer was from, Krauss realized.
The Cobra soldier did not knock a third time, but took it upon himself to open the door. A single hornet trickled in, flying around the room with peculiar enthusiasm. A new place, how fantastically exciting, filled with new pheromones. The Pain, however, did not follow; he looked from Ocelot to Krauss and back again.
“Please. Not right now.” The German managed. “If we could reschedule this? This is a very bad time. I am…”
“Suffering.” The hornet charmer observed, with a nod. “When you are finished, then.” He moved, and the insect followed, lighting on the front of his vest, where it was more than camouflaged in the yellow-black striping. “Enjoy yourself, Major.” He shut the door, quietly.
Krauss looked to Ocelot, thankful for a diversion. “He wants a heated aircraft hangar, fully furnished for his bees. Don't we all?”