Drip. Drip. Drip. Aleksander stared at the single leaking pipe over their heads. He had grown bored, and begun to count the time between the droplets. Drip. One, two, three seconds. Drip. One, two three, four seconds. Drip. "Do you look forward to going home?"
Aleksander drew his attention to the Cianlandian sitting on the bunk across from his. "It's not much if home anymore, Eirik." Eirik had been there when Aleksander stepped off the boat in Irnbjørg. He had been the one to approach Aleksander about rendering a well paid service to his adopted country. One that offered speedier naturalization as well.
He just didn't expect it to be infiltrating his homeland as a spy, aiding other spies. He locked gazes with Eirik. The Ranarir's eyes were blue like his own, but there was something different in them. They were blue, but not Aleksander's vibrant, springtime sky blue. Eirik's eyes were slate, cold. They were the color of melted ice, or freezing rapids in a winter stream. And Eirik had a way of always looking through people, not at them.
Aleksander had seen those eyes before. They belonged to men who were accompanied to violence, for whom the shedding of blood was as normal as brushing one's teeth.
As if to reinforce the point, Eirik occupied himself with the upkeep of weapons. Sharpening a knife, loading a pistol, attaching silencers and infrared sights. The other Cianlandian slapped Aleksander on the shoulder. "I understand, Hai-leek-sandur, how you feel. To return to the Cossack Peoples in a submarine isn't a proper homecoming. I feel the same, every time I leave and return to Shórshal in secret." Aleksander sighed. "I appreciate it, Gomnur, truly! But you have to stop saying my name like that. If you speak Cossack with that thick accent of yours, you're gonna blow our cover." Gomnur shook his head. "All right. You're the local, you can do the talking." Aleksander was more than that. He had been a professor of Linguistics before the Civil War. He spoke 6 tongues fluently, and taught classes in all of them. And then the war came. He became an expatriate, drifting from nation to nation, refugee camp to refugee camp. Then the Cianlandians decided he was useful enough to spy on his countrymen. An Imperial Leonist sailor swung his head into their cabin. "Thirty minutes till last briefing, gentlemen." Aleksander sighed. Drip
The shrine master/deity of the FHHHS is wondering why he can hear moans of agony (and agony aunts) in the night. Perhaps it has to do with the name? Meanwhile, the other sound heard is a load of 'mmphs' along with other odd sounds and a heretical anti-hat cultist sect has broken in. Time to break out the hammer.
Free market buisnesses
The wyoming order
Alas, the great tubbius has disturbed your slumber
We are not responsible for the mistreatment suffered by the bean-eating community. We are working to locate the persecutors by any means possible, the victims will be compensated with the right compensation.
I love how only one word in my nation's name is capitalized. :)
I don't believe you; no way it got that big unintentionally, it's just not possible. Also, always remember it gets bigger when you select weird options or make things illegal.
I've heard there's a black market for oxygen in India now; I'd assumed we'd have to wait until the 2030's for that.
Also, I keep forgetting how small this nation is; I think I always forget because it's ranked so highly so many things. Taxes dropped by another 0.1% today, maybe I'll have them gone in a month or two! :)