[color=lightgreen][center][h3][i][b]Day 2: 00:51:20
Outside of Koley Railyard, Koley,
Libor Province,
Republic of Polavia
[/b][/i][/h3][/center][/color][center][b][h3][i]Borys Skala[/i][/h3][/b][/center][hr]
Borys watched Felix go around the team, acting like a dog greeting its owners coming back home. “Try to lick me, Puss in Ballistic Vest, and I’ll punt you back out like a football.” He threatened the lion, the ethanol in his system and sheer Polavian levels of ‘fuck you’ making it genuinely unclear if he was being serious or not.

[quote]”The train takes about six hours. The lines are shitty. But with any luck, we can make it to Novy Jork. Worst case, we dump his ass in a zoo.”[/quote]
“Maybe that’s a group retirement plan. Felix and I put together a ‘trained lion’ routine, Sana can do four second ‘Is this your card?’ tricks... We’re already a traveling fucking circus, blyat, might as well make money on it.” Borys grumbled as he made the mistake of donning the ring that Felix had given him. The train car lit up in shades of black and white like grayscale night vision goggles, he began hearing the rush of air around the box car, his stubble started to itch and he realized he had a pebble in his boot that he hadn’t been aware of before. Then he immediately took it off when he smelled his own breath, subconsciously shuffling further away from the other operators.

He was the first non-injured one to conk out, his sudden snore interrupting Oksana as she spoke, the alcohol feeling like a blanket had been pulled over his brain once the adrenaline crash arrived.

[hr]
Borys woke to a grenade being tossed at his chest. The gears in his head started spinning. Grenade, Oksana, grenade, Rowan, grenade, no train, grenade. He rolled over on his stomach, grenade under his chest, yanking the wine bottle out of the pouch to protect it as he did.

…three, four, five, six, seven…

He looked at the grenade, spoon in place, pin unpulled. [i]“Are you fucking retarded, Spoiler Alert?! Get over here, I’m gonna turn your face into fucking cheburek filling!”[/i] He thundered in the harshest Polavian prison slang imaginable, looking like he was actually about to try to beat Oksana senseless when a burst of machinegun fire from somewhere far off forced him back into the ditch.

In the moment he did as told, following a Seer’s advice and heading for the indicated exit despite that same seer being the reason he was seeing red.

[hr][color=lightgreen][center][h3][i][b]Day 2: 05:35:52
Somewhere near Novy Jork
Krumov Province,
Republic of Polavia
[/b][/i][/h3][/center][/color][center][b][h3][i]Borys Skala[/i][/h3][/b][/center][hr]
Borys woke - for real this time - late, his drunken snoring loud enough to be heard over the clatter of the train car the entire night. He disentangled himself from his robe he’d slept wrapped up in like a bedroll, greasy hair sticking out in all directions like it was trying to escape his head. “Anyone have water? I’ll suck it out of radiators, no problem, just point me to water.” The Polavian rasped, bleary eyes at half mast looking around the space, clearly looking for something - the vodka bottle Silas had found, Oksana having preemptively hidden it long before the snoring dwarf came to - before giving up and taking a sip from the wine bottle in his vest.

He shuffled over to the open side door, the cold wind helping him wake up. “Your dreams are bullshit, you know that?” He uttered in Oksana’s direction between sips of cold cabbage soup from babushka’s care package without any trace of the dream’s fury, “Seriously, who has invasive nightmares?”