Date: 2009-02-12 05:51 pm (UTC)
Kassian stared at him, taken aback.

Lasha had stepped out of the room as if it were the past, evoking the cruel junior militsioner who had trespassed at Kassian's door, so many years ago. But that Lasha had been a youth wearing the uniform of a man, malicious and cold, but still callow.

This Lasha had matured like a fine wine and come fully into his own. There was a seasoned air to him now, a sense of utter self-possession and confidence that had been missing from the youth. His face was harder. Colder. Filled out and sharply masculine. The grey uniform, impeccably tailored. Yet there was still the hint of the young man who had stared at Kassian with fury in his eyes and blood trickling down the side of his mouth.

That memory felt fresh again, vivid in his mind. Kassian had been young then, too.

He exhaled.

"All right," he muttered, after a moment.

Kassian reached into his pocket and pulled out his balaclava, yanking it down and over his head.

"Let's go. It's this way."

He led.
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September 2009

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