FISSIONMAILED: It's not my birthday, asshole

[volginswaifu]

[Ivan had taken today to sleep in. Curled up in his and Volgin's massive bed, barely noticeable under the lumps of sheets if not for that silvery-blonde head peeking out as a dead give away.]

[Nestled against his chest lay Galina, peacefully snoozing much like her master.]

[All-in-all...it was a completely average, uneventful day.]

Comments

[colonelcrotchgrab]

[Suppose that was the bare minimum of what Volgin could ask of Raikov then. Forcing a smile and having no need to ask any further opinion of him, he left the younger man to enjoy the fruits of his labors, gathering his crutches and then retiring to the bedroom to resume his spot on the bed. It had been a long morning of misplaced intentions. Might as well spend the afternoon unconscious like a normal retiree with his first-world petty problems.

Next week he should be well enough for the splint to come off. There was always that.]

[volginswaifu.livejournal.com]

Hm? [He turned around, cheeks stuffed with food not unlike a hamster or squirrel's.]

Where're you going? [He takes a moment to actually chew and swallow before shoveling more varenyky into his mouth.]

[colonelcrotchgrab]

[The giant's reply was frank:]

Get off my foot.

[volginswaifu.livejournal.com]

But what about the food?

[Not that he minded eating it all himself. Ivan take a look at the pie, about to cut into it when he noticed the lettering.] Hm...?

Did you write this?