[An honour to meet him. Konstantin knows that choice of words well — usually expects them, even. They come with all of it. He's lost count of how many women and men have told him that it's an honour to meet him. Even children know.
And yet, in this moment, with so much unknown and every piece of him wanting nothing more than to scream, the words feel new again, perhaps more reminiscent of back when he was a younger man and hearing them freshly. How his heart swelled....!
The words are like a tether, something small but vastly meaningful, that matters in this moment. All of that he keeps to himself, keeps his composure, but he lets his smile spread a little, visibly, and nods. ]
The honour is mine, comrade. [ But the smile wavers with another roll of nausea, and he gives a little grunt, fingernails of one hand curling into his palm. ]
Sorry. My stomach — feels a bit sour. Do you have any water?
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And yet, in this moment, with so much unknown and every piece of him wanting nothing more than to scream, the words feel new again, perhaps more reminiscent of back when he was a younger man and hearing them freshly. How his heart swelled....!
The words are like a tether, something small but vastly meaningful, that matters in this moment. All of that he keeps to himself, keeps his composure, but he lets his smile spread a little, visibly, and nods. ]
The honour is mine, comrade. [ But the smile wavers with another roll of nausea, and he gives a little grunt, fingernails of one hand curling into his palm. ]
Sorry. My stomach — feels a bit sour. Do you have any water?