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Eventually Taras got used to the sound of the girls' voices as they chatted, and was able to fall into a slight doze. It would be very irresponsible to fall completely asleep, so he didn't - though even if he'd wanted to, the conditions in the back of the small aircraft didn't make it all that easy. The tones of the women's voices were easy enough to get used to, but surprisingly they would be what would have kept him awake. He was Russian, growing up in the Motherland made the cold and rush of wind a non-issue when it came to tucking in for the night. Well, still, just because he [i]could[/i] have slept in a place like this if he were alone, didn't mean he would [i]like[/i] it. Besides, the cold had such a grip on his home country that thick coats, blankets and heaters were abound - that meant that sometimes, like now high in the frigid air, it was actually much colder than he was used to. Oh well, musing for another time.

The sound of music playing did nothing to stir Taras from his stone-like position, but it did bring some curious thoughts to his mind. Perhaps one of his fellow agents had such an ability. [i]How useless[/i], he thought, though it was only a spur of the moment appraisal. Giving it a little more thought, he concocted quite a few ways it may actually come in hand. [i]...how useful.[/i]

Just as he was guessing as to the identity of the music-wielding agent, his first suspect spoke up with what seemed to be the intent to irritate him. Though he didn't show much of it on the outside, she was succeeding. A little.

[color=DC143C]"Heh, [i]<when we are done here I will personally make sure>[/i] Britain [i]<is next in the Union, if you like. Then we can truly be comrades.>"[/i][/color] He spoke quickly and smoothly, the beginnings of a smirk playing at his mouth. From his experience nothing frightened or frustrated the Western allies more than hearing the [i]big, scary[/i] communist talk unions and other countries. He had a feeling that Miss Yonaka wasn't the type to be spooked so easily, but he was feeling petulant.

As the plane mercifully began it's descent, Taras finally opened his eyes again. He peered as best he could out of the craft, but it was hard to see. Instead, he simply waited for the moment the doors would open. When they did open, Taras deftly scooped up the pallet and exited with surprising swiftness for someone his size. Understandably, he was very eager to get off of the plane.

Without so much as a look back at the shuttle making it's way back into the air, Taras also made his way over to the Frenchmen that would be assisting them. Though their trek to Paris would begin tomorrow, he was looking forward to seeing how exactly the resistance operated. With the pallet tucked safely in his grip, the Soviet at least hoped wherever they would go would have some leg room this time.