"S'a bit small, innit."
"S'a bit small, innit."
"S'a bit small, innit." ??
Was that all she had to say? Not to mention "a bit small" was a complete understatement.
Taras had circled around the small aircraft once, twice, three times as the General spoke, sizing it up. Literally sizing it up, because the large Russian man severely doubted he alone would fit inside, never mind the entire lot of them. As he came back around the final time and walked back towards the gathered group, Taras' face was lightly twisted in disdain. This was going to be unpleasant, to say the least.
Still, Taras rejoined the group as the General finished his speech. 'Thank you for your service,' blah blah blah. Taras would have been a little more appreciative if he hadn't been stuck with this particular group of fellow agents. He cast his dark eyes on the lot of them, scrutinizing them all and not for the first time. Though sure to be skilled in order to be selected for a mission such as this one, they were all Westerners - and young to boot. Perfect, Taras thought to himself with an internal roll of the eyes.
Well despite the immediate situation, Taras couldn't deny that he was extremely curious about these "super Nazis." He'd have to deal with the other agents for a little while in order to find out more, as displeasing as the thought was. For fuck's sake the British woman had just introduced herself as "Cakebread." Cakebread? Really? Cakebread? Taras didn't even try and resist the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, and he did just so to try and stave off the headache that was sure to come. Breath, Taras... Agh, pizdets.
Giving his regards and a short nod of his head to General Carmond, Taras too approached the small plane - though he didn't go inside. No, no, he wasn't getting in there before the rest of them. Once the others were in he'd cram himself inside and be the first to get off the Godforsaken thing when they touched down. The large man leaned against the metal body of the craft, tugging on his gloves impatiently.
"You will refer to me as Tupolev," he said, figuring he ought to introduce himself as well. Although he didn't plan to learn more about the group than needed, a name was always important. Taras' voice was deep and heavy with his Slavic accent - it fit his large imposing frame. He said nothing else afterward, merely observing the rest of them as they prepared to leave.