New wounds old scars. [Horus][ЗИМНЯЯ ДЕН]

@"Evelyn"

The evenings early in the week were often hit or miss, and tonight was a miss.

The place was deserted save for the barkeep and owner, but he wasn't even present in the bar. Instead, he was upstairs putting away the remnants of dinner. He was contemplating just closing the bar down for the night and tucking himself onto the couch to read the daily newspaper when he thought he heard the groaning of a metal door being pushed open.

Then his name came floating up the stairs and shit.

He didn't recognize it, but it sounded rather pained nonetheless. Of course he had no idea what was going on, so he grabbed the nearest knife - and his apartment was just full of knives and guns - and crept down the stairs to peer towards the front, then the back door.

It was that girl. He didn't remember her name, but he definitely remembered how she pulled a goddamn gun out in the middle of his bar. Now she was stumbling in, bleeding, calling for him like a mewling kitten and why did she think this was a good idea by any stretch?

He stepped down into the bar proper, a heavy scowl on his face.

"What are you doing?" He spoke in Russian.

@"Evelyn"

Pasha had always been, and would always be, rather critically analytical. It was a survival skill back at home and during his heyday, even more so. World War I, II and the Cold War hadn't exactly put a damper on it either.

So at the sight of blood, all his training more or less clicked back into gear. Shit, there was a whole lot of blood and it looked to be an abdominal wound. Not so pleasant. First thing in his head was the hospital.

But why had she decided to come back here, of all places?

"Is anybody with you?" He took on a slightly more defensive stance, both shoulders squared out and mentally ticking off where he kept the nearest weapons. If someone decided to come running into the door after her, he would be ready for it.