A shame Volgin was a man of many grudges, and he was one to remember even the tiniest of slights (but he needed no justification to satisfy his bloodlust; it was just something more for the prey's ears, if there was one).
"Nh, right. Right. Good boy." He had forgotten if he had a cigar lit or not now, his fingers mindlessly going for a new one whether there was one smoldering away in his ashtray or not. His mumbling continued (perfectly unaware of the bizarre boxer and his name, nevermind that he had a secret fondness himself for the fizzy drink that he would never admit to ever):
"They said 'Go easy on'em'. Don't tell'em I pretended I didn't ever hear a word of spoken English in my life and broke his face. I had a more innocent face then."
He puffed a long stream of smoke, regardless of how Mac felt about it.
"Got me shipped back over, but I would do it again. New York." His voice then edged back down into that perpetual, gruff snarl at the returning creep of his political dogma: "I would go back there, nevermind it is a pit of disgusting Capitalist filth."
no subject
"Nh, right. Right. Good boy." He had forgotten if he had a cigar lit or not now, his fingers mindlessly going for a new one whether there was one smoldering away in his ashtray or not. His mumbling continued (perfectly unaware of the bizarre boxer and his name, nevermind that he had a secret fondness himself for the fizzy drink that he would never admit to ever):
"They said 'Go easy on'em'. Don't tell'em I pretended I didn't ever hear a word of spoken English in my life and broke his face. I had a more innocent face then."
He puffed a long stream of smoke, regardless of how Mac felt about it.
"Got me shipped back over, but I would do it again. New York." His voice then edged back down into that perpetual, gruff snarl at the returning creep of his political dogma: "I would go back there, nevermind it is a pit of disgusting Capitalist filth."