#npznny

                    the cable ties cut into tender flesh and leave no room for wrists to wriggle free.   she doesn’t even attempt it,   sits without movement on the chair opposite his silhouette :   everything is different, ――   perhaps.   last time she saw him,   he was younger and certainly not half as determined to chain her up.   the fostered son of a ruthless WIDOW ;   but as the game changes its rules along the gradient of passed time,   it comes as no surprise that pawns change their colour in the same way they change their location.   brows are knitted,   lips tight :   what answer does he expect?   pleading?   both of them know that she won’t.   and both of them know that any infliction of pain is a waste of time and RESOURCES :   he has undergone the same rigorous training.   all of this is,   at best,   an act.     “ что ты хочешь, максим? ”     the annoyance of her voice contrasts with the air of nonchalance that surrounds her frame,   dark eyes set on him and the intentions behind his stoic gaze.      “ sympathy?   comradery? ――   i have as little answers as you have,  and you know that. ”

                    back comfortably leans against the cushions of a chair,   a glass of liquor half-abandoned in the palm of his hand.   the absence of a gun is man-made,   and dembe’s retreating into a different part of the apartment an order raymond only seldom gives.   eyes rest on maxim,   unyielding and their compassion crassly limited.     “ strength is an illusion like everything else in this world,  maxim. ”     his voice is coarse,   and it is rough.     “ where is constantin? ”