Snippet #1703839

"Privet Leonidas! Kak dela?"
Leonidas paused in his step and swung around, grinning broadly under his beard. He took several long strides forward and grabbed the shorter, stockier man,pulling him into a bear-hug.
"Tolya!" He boomed, almost lifting the young man off of his feet in their embrace. "I'm fine my friend, how about you? It's been months since I was last here in Polis! Come, walk with me. Tell me, what's been going on with you? "
He let the man go and, red faced, Tolya fell into step with Leonidas. He began to talk of his work in Polis, his new home, wife and even an expected child. Leonidas said not a word as they walked, instead nodding or making approving noises. Reaching the end of the Borovitskaya station boundary the two men halted and again embraced.
"You must come and stay soon Leonidas. I know that Nastya would love to see you again. Say you will! We'll get the good vodka and celebrate."
Leonidas laughed, patting his friend affectionately on the back.
"I'd love too Tolya, but I may not be staying in Polis long. I've come here about a job. Apparently some big-shot has taken over one of the bars here and is calling a few mercenaries together. Supposed to be paying big money too. A lot of pristine-quality bullets, or so I hear. Well you know me. How can I resist such a job? But I'd better get going. I don't want to be late and miss my opportunity!" He laughed and embraced Tolya once more.
"Well come back soon, dedushka! We all miss you around here."
"I wasn't aware that I was a grandfather yet! Besides, I'm not that old. When I come back I'll be sure to visit. That's a promise! Take care now."
"You too, old man!"
They both laughed, and parted ways.

Leonidas made his way through Polis slowly, pausing at vendors' stalls and even stopping to haggle over a pale, emicated chicken with a women, simply for the hell of it. He didn't buy it, but did pick up a small, beaten and soot-covered kettle and a few two-litre bottles of purified water. He'd need his own cart if he kept going on like this. His pack was starting to get heavy. As he walked, he met several friends, exchanging pleasantries and small pieces of gossip and news, but refused to hang around for longer than a few minutes. He was nearing the bar now, and he wanted to make sure he got in on this job. If it was funded by such a high-ranking member of 'society' (such as it was) then maybe he'd find a little bit of respite from his persuers, perhaps some protection from this man's guards. If he had any, and that was likely. He gently laid a hand on the barrel of his STG-44 assult rifle, to reassure himself that it was still hanging over his shoulder. As all these thoughts whirled through his head he found himself infront of a man, massive in proportion, blocking the door to the bar. Leonidas looked up at the mountain of meat.
"Privet. I'm here for the job."
The man looked down at him, his face forming a sneer as he took in the laden rucksack of goods, and the kettle hanging from it all by a hook.
"Hi. What, you a trader or something? I doubt you'll be of any help." The massive guard drawled. "Go away and peddle your wares someplace else."
"I'm no trader my friend. I'm here for the job, and I'm not going anywhere." Leonidas spread his hands wide and smiled up at the man. "So, can I come in?"
"No."
"Oh... Why?"
"Same reason I gave the other guy. Because the boss wants to make sure we have everyone who's participating here before the briefing starts. If you're adamant about sticking around, then just wait around here for about twenty minutes. Then you can go in."
Leonidas grinned, thanked the guard and looked about the area. A large man (by no-means larger than the guard in the door-way, but still taller and broader than Leonidas) was dozing with his back to the wall, opposite the bar. Striding over, Leonidas seated himself against the same wall, several feet from the man. He set his pack down infront of him and rummaged around in it for a few moments. Smiling, he drew out some stiff pipe-cleaners and a little toothbrush. Setting these aside for a moment, he swung the STG-44 around from his shoulder, setting it down on-top of his rucksack. Picking up the pipe-cleaners and the troothbrush, he began to dis-assemble and clean the assult rifle. As he worked, he whistling merrily to himself, but also kept an eye about his surroundings. He was interested to see who else, if anyone, would show up.