If Germany had won the war... » Places

         Vladimir's head was beginning to throb at the class activity and was fairly certain something of a grudge might have been thrown around. That or he'd imagined lightning shoot from Alexandra's eyes when the Klaus boy began talking. The female pilot only made things worse, oh god no...another one the dreading thought quickly flickered across his mind. Something about the pilot from before and her mannerisms gave him the sinking feeling that he was looking at a more specialized version of Alexandra. Wait, could a princess even specialize...well maybe it was more of a I'm the best damn pilot here and have the pedigree to back it upfeeling. A bit more searching brought the word confidence to mind, whereas Alexandra definitely felt more spoiled. He had to keep from gripping his head and sighing, things were looking impossibly difficult already.

The fact that he had such an extended thought at "Vladimir" however was not good for the mission, he needed some time to refocus. The biggest question was how to do so when he felt like a landmine was under every step...he began missing the front line. Bullets and explosions were easy since they clearly gave you an enemy but here he was a fish out of water. He felt himself unconsciously swallow, his breathing was hastened and shallow and his hear rate elevated. But "Viktor" was not holding much longer, but "Vladimir" had finally gotten an idea...some of his artificial scars from "surgery" hadn't fully closed yet.

The tricky part was he needed one to go and look bad while not actually risking his own health. Sadly, there weren't any like that he'd be able to readily and stealthily rupture. Sweat began beading on his forehead at this point due to the only apparent option...he'd have to rupture the one on his left side that ended all to close to his liver. The issue was he didn't know how deep the cut was thus making bleeding out a possibility but fortunately today left plenty of chances for him to move "unnaturally" and explain the incident.

He moved his left hand over the stitch in question, trying to keep to motion small and avoid suspicion. When the hand felt the area under his coat,he quickly pulsed the fingers out with utmost force. He felt a series of little pops,success and a patch of moisture began forming near immediately. He clenched his hand at this point,both to act as a staunch and simulate real panic...something he didn't need to pretend at this point. This razor thin wire brought about new focus, and "Vladimir" once more became "Viktor".

"Apologies," Viktor winced with his attempt to stand a motion the was mostly leaning up to his feet while on the desk held his weight. "It would appear I-," the room suddenly spun as vertigo messed with his senses,"-I have blown a stitch." He shifted his shaking left hand to make the growing patch on his jacket more visible. Experience told him at this point that his life was in no immediate danger (the cut went deep but was very precise and avoided being serious), but he was still unofficially recovering. Ultimately, he knew his action was incredibly stupid but short of praiseworthy incompetence in the class's response he'd be well within safe limits.