[ There are all manner of things the Americans do in the military, most of them forbidden by the Geneva Convention, he thinks sourly, but Vasiliy keeps that particular thought to himselfβit's not an insult that would carry any weight to someone arrogant enough to believe she has any business meddling in the affairs of a country halfway across the world. If anything, it's probably a compliment.
He gets up, putting on his own coat even though he just said they'd take turns, but he doesn't suppress the urge to roll his eyes at her insistence. ]
You are like sheepdog herding other dog, Major. What do you think, that I am going to sit on couch all day? You do not give orders here.
[ And he doesn't bother filtering his thoughts through a loose grammatical check before speaking here, in his own home. There's no consequenceβthey already despise each other; there's no hiding his own Russianness when he has to spend every waking minute around this woman. He takes his shoes off before he steps into the house, he leaves the coffeemaker untouched, he doesn't constantly compulsively smile at strangers like he's expected to do in public.
Outside, he carefully abides by their rules, stops to think about what articles to inject where, what they'll find abrasive, when he cares enough to "fix" his "broken English" for people who already know damn well what he's trying to convey and simply want to assert dominance by making him bend over backwards for them like a dancing monkey before they dignify him with a response. But this woman has absolutely nothing to give him, and there's no benefit to appeasing her, and he doesn't want to constantly devote mental energy to a complex system of grammar for a language that embodies everything he hates to speak to the most loathesome person he's ever met in his life. ]
no subject
He gets up, putting on his own coat even though he just said they'd take turns, but he doesn't suppress the urge to roll his eyes at her insistence. ]
You are like sheepdog herding other dog, Major. What do you think, that I am going to sit on couch all day? You do not give orders here.
[ And he doesn't bother filtering his thoughts through a loose grammatical check before speaking here, in his own home. There's no consequenceβthey already despise each other; there's no hiding his own Russianness when he has to spend every waking minute around this woman. He takes his shoes off before he steps into the house, he leaves the coffeemaker untouched, he doesn't constantly compulsively smile at strangers like he's expected to do in public.
Outside, he carefully abides by their rules, stops to think about what articles to inject where, what they'll find abrasive, when he cares enough to "fix" his "broken English" for people who already know damn well what he's trying to convey and simply want to assert dominance by making him bend over backwards for them like a dancing monkey before they dignify him with a response. But this woman has absolutely nothing to give him, and there's no benefit to appeasing her, and he doesn't want to constantly devote mental energy to a complex system of grammar for a language that embodies everything he hates to speak to the most loathesome person he's ever met in his life. ]