Comrade @cupid-complex said:
Lugo with “i brought you a blanket.”
She said nary a word while she saw the blanket in front of her, eyebrows furrowed as she took in a deep, deep breath... then exhaled.
Another mission they were on, in the fucking winters of Siberia. More remnants of some shitty fascist group they had to find, and the Captain was never one for the snow. To be teamed up with a Delta Force member from the States, though, one she remembered... it eased her, admittedly. To have a familiar face around. Svetlana eyes had slowly drifted up to Lugo as she adjusted her helmet, a few breaths leaving her lips, still visible through the balaclava. “ ... thanks. ” Her voice was barely a whisper while she trembled in the cold.
She hated the snow. Hated everything about it. The cold, too. Just-- all of it, it was shit, complete ass. But she had to get used to it, in the Motherland, after all. Though, her glassy, almost lifeless eyes glanced away as she lifted her hands up to adjust her balaclava, pushing up her visor a tad to be able to see Lugo a little better.
“ ... I appreciate it, really, Lugo. ” Svetlana spoke up again, trembling gloved hands rising to grasp at the blanket, then wrapped it around herself, over her shoulders, and pulled it tightly around herself, glancing around at the snow. She could swear she’d see red spots in the snow. Bloodstains-- maybe. Though, they weren’t real. She knew. She knew it right down to her core that they weren’t real. Her eyes slowly drifted back to Lugo after a moment, shifting. She didn’t know what to say, really. She heard about everything in Dubai, all the shit he dealt with. Not to mention... White Phosphorous. By god... Christ.
She shifted again, furrowing her brows in thought while she focused on getting her small little portable cooker ready. Just some MREs, really. Shit stuff, but it was better than nothing. She was carefully trying to prepare it the best she could-- some hot water to cook, then just try to make it good... With whatever shit she had, really. “ ... sorry. ” The Captain said after a moment, letting out a sigh through her nose. “ I’m a fucking mess, huh? Sorry for-- for Chernetsky, not being around to crack jokes with you... or, Gerasimov to... lighten the mood, or... ” A falter, and a deep breath.
No tears, Svetlana. The ‘New Soviet Man’ did not shed tears so easily, they stayed strong. Only shed tears for the worker that’d desire it. She just wished she didn’t get so emotional around an American. Much less Lugo, especially knowing... what happened with him.
