Little claws scratch - then almost dig into thick material of combat wear , as paws make demanding little taps against the shin of Nikolai's leg , while this palm sized , navy blue ball rolls to the nose of his boot . Her little demands are clear , these huge brown eyes follow his hand almost pleadingly - that curled tail brushes her own back in enthusiastic wags . If she could say , her voice would nearly cry : Hello !
Spires of smoke climb the long arm of Nikolai β a cigarette, hanging down by his side, pinched between his glove-knuckles.
A forgotten building looms ahead β his target β this cement complex against a gray-skied day. Nikolai's cigarette motions to it, and he addresses the dog at his heels.
"Any surprises waiting inside?" with quite an official tone, cool and demanding as an officer might speak to his informant. (Expecting, of course, no reply.)
Tucking the cigarette between his unsmiling lips and freeing that hand, he takes what she's urged into his boot. Giving it an inspection and several upward lobs, testing its weight (and perhaps the patience of this eager-faced mutt).
