Volgin was not sure if he got the... uh, joke. He tilted his head; English(?) was his second language after all. He had become fluent in it during the Cold War, and had further refined it during his time in Hell and at the Academy. The Soviet was aware he still could miss context. Like now.

Hm.

"So, your..." He was looking for an appropriate word. "... Outfit. Tell me about it."

He took a moment to see if they were in the smoking section or not. As the realization that the Soviet Union was dead sunk in deeper and his time in the military, his privilege, and wealth grew further and further behind him, he had been filling the gap with cigar smoke. The giant had been smoking more than usual. He could use one now.