Fragile

The dead of night is quiet around this block, after a firefight midday between Pavlov's men and several Fascists that tried unsuccessfully to get in on the first floor. Snow drifts in halfhearted, shadowed flurries outside, flakes sometims blowing in through the shattered windows. Maschenko is under one of their cinema-made blankets at the east wall, far from the windows, his head lying on someone's bunched up, tattered shirt. Rest comes and goes, so often interrupted by the intermittent rifle fire during the day. His eyes are halfway open now, watching the wall.

«Game» Sokolof moves out of Rubble pile.

Elise comes off watch, rubbing her hands together and blowing on them in a futile attempt to warm them up. She sets her rifle against the wall and sees Maschenko nearby. Crouching down beside him, she greets. "Comrade Doctor. Can I get you anything?"

Sokolof is keeping watch by the window. Somewhat awkwardly. His right hand is still wrapped and essentially unuseable. But at the first least he can prop himself up there and aim with his left. He turns at the sound of someone entering the room, offering Elise a short nod, gaze going to Maschenko with undisguised concern.

Novikova has been set back to chores, now that her head wound is healing up. She hums softly as she comes up, pockets clinking a little. She pokes greets softly, "Comrades." Just to be sure she doesn't get shot. She seems to be in reasonable spirits, although sseeing all the wounded makes her frown a little. "Sorry to wake any," She murmurs. She'll sit near someone if they need a Noviprop.

Maschenko looks a step up from death today, which is a sight better than he looked not long ago. Bandages and healing stab wounds keep his breathing high up in his chest, his shoulders moving a little bit with each small helping of cold air. "Is there some water, please?" His tired blue eyes flicker past her to Sokolof, and after a second his mouth tugs at the corners. "Don't make that face at me, Efim."

"Cousin," Elise greets quietly, glad to see her. She unscrews the cap on her canteen and will help Maschenko sit up to drink if he needs. She glances back at Solokof for a moment to see That Face, and gives the doctor a thin smile. "We're all just concerned for you, Comrade Doctor."

"What face?" Sokolof sounds honestly confused. And his face remains in that dour, fretting school-marmish sort of expression. He watches Elise tend to the doctor a beat longer, then turns back to look out the window. Not that he can see much in the inky darkness. "Comrade Zoya," he offers to her as she enters.

Novikova grins, "Is it the face when I do something like hit a door or put pants on my head?" Ponder. "No, probably not. I don't think Comrade Doctor does that," A shrug and a smile. "I fetched a few tins. They wouldn't get me much. But I am glad to see you all, and I think I avoided the sprat cans pretty well," She smiles at the group. Sokolof's greeting gets a nod. It's a relief to see them, not so much seeing their state though. Sadface. "I can sit near someone if you are cold."

Maschenko smiles at the back of Sokolof's head. He gets himself up onto an elbow with some minor struggle and Elise's help, his back resting against the wall with a soft thump. "Oh, I'm alright. Have to put off dancing for another day or two, is all." Slouched carefully now, he can take a sip or two of water for his dry throat. "You're all okay?" Exactly who was wounded and how badly got loss in the fuzz of pain and blood loss after the shooting. Even Sokolof's bandages, which he watched be put on, is now just registering ith any clarity. "Efim, what happened to your hand?"

Elise smirks thinly at Sokolof's confusion, not commenting. "We were all fine upstairs. Aleks is resting, he seems to be doing all right. I'm glad you're feeling better. Do you want me to change your bandage or do you want to wait for Comrade Yulia to do it?" Elise takes no offense at the more skilled nurse being preferred. "Thank you Zoya." She'll help Maschenko back down again after he drinks, and frowns at his shirt-pillow. "What happened to the blanket pillow I left?" She looks around to see if someone else had gotten it, or if it was just mislaid.

Sokolof shrugs at the question about the blanket and pillow. He knows not. "It is nothing serious," he answers Maschenko. "Caught some fire from the Fascists on the way back last night. Yulia has tended to it. I am glad Comrade Taktarov is doing better. I had feared for him. He is a good young man."

Novikova looks to Sokolof, "I was worried!" She admits with wide eyes. She looks to Maschenko, "Are you alright? You seem a bit tired. I can give you a tin if you want. I know you probably won't feel like much, but you could split it with someone." She smiles at Elise, "I am glad to see you cousin." She nods and will sit near. "Da, they were just rude." Who would pick on Sokolof? Blasted Nazis. "Anyway, I'm here if someone is needing to lean a bit or wants a tin. There's not many though…" She admits quietly. She turns red at the mention of Taktarov. Ahem. "Y-yeah."

Maschenko is not much of a leaner, unless one counts the wall. "I'm not very hungry, Zoya," he murmurs. "Should save it for people going on watch, they need it. And how is your head, young lady? The smells?" The mention of the blanketpillow has him glancing at the crumpled shirt on the dusty ground, a brow lifting over one darkly-circled eyes. "I don't know…but." He turns his bandaged hand, looking at the thick bandage. "I think it's alright for now, Elise. But if you could help me have a look at Efim's hand…Efim, come over here?"

"Oh, there it is." Elise spots the blanket, fallen into a gap in the rubble over there. She goes to retrieve it. "You sure you don't want it?" She glances at Zoya. "You too, Zoya. I'll share some rations if there are enough." She nods to Sokolof. "Da, he is." She'll wait to see if he comes over.

"As I said, it's already been seen to," Sokolof says, though he acquiesces to Maschenko's summons. Arm with bandaged right paw extended to Elise. "Just rest, Luka. You'll be strong enough to worry for the rest of us again in no time."

Gregor comes up, rifle in hand as he heads for the Rubble pile, to take up watch, looking around to the others with a nod, "Comrades."

Novikova pouts, "I gave them theirs on the way in. So you should eat too or you won't heal and I'll have to carry you and you'll hear my jokes for all eternity. But I do want you to get better," DOOM. She smiles, "You can just hang onto it for yourself or Comrade Efim, since I know neither of you would take a whole one," She notes. She smiles at Elise, "Da. Sounds good. I am a lousy nurse, but I'll be here warming a spot," She beams and bobs her head. "Comrade Gregor. It's good to see you. How are you?" She asks quietly.

"I do eat, Zoya," Maschenko promises. "I'm fine. Now, how is your head?" He insists on the question, plenty worried for the rest of them even right now. A little nod to Gregor, then he looks down at Sokolof's bandaged hand. "I know, Efim, just humor me. It'd be a pity to go stir crazy without any vodka around. Elise, would you unwrap those for me?"

Gregor nods, "Pretty good, really." He moves to sit and take up watch on the square, "How is everyone?"

"Comrade," Elise greets Gregor. She nods to Maschenko and slowly unwraps Sokolof's bandage so that Maschenko can examine it. "Fine," she replies to Gregor, a little distracted by the task at hand. "You?"

Sokolof winces as his bandage is unwrapped and his skin meets the cold air. The wound is clean and has been dressed but it's still not pretty. A submachine gun is not a kind implement. His hand was badly peppered, though he's still in possession of his digits and major arteries are intact. So, there's that.

Novikova nods, "Okay. And I'm alright. It's itchy, still can't smell a darn thing. But that just means I get watch near the stinky places now." If only she'd kept quiet. SIiiiiigh. Novikova just folds her arms, although she does take a tin to Sokolof. "No sprat, I promise." She beams and steps back to let the hand looking over commence. "I can help open it when you like too." When he is good and ready! She looks to Gregor. "Well enough. Could take on the 101st Nazi Skunk And Men Who Wear Old Socks Far Too Long Brigade singlehandedly." Shrug and a smile. She watches them for now.

Gregor smirks at Elise, looking out over the square. "Pretty good still." He says and looks over the square for Germans to ventilate. Someone needs to. He smirks to Novi, "I think they're scheduled for next week."

"Thank you, Elise." Maschenko sits still while she unwraps and then gently sucks his teeth, looking over Sokolof's injury. "This was that SMG?" He glances at Efim's face and then back down, his right thumb carefully moving Sokolof's pinky aside so he can see better. "I don't dare try to stitch it until tomorrow," he admits at length, sounding unhappy about that. "But comrade nurse did a fine job."

"Is there anywhere /not/ stinky?" Elise asks with a dour frown. "Do you think it will come back, Comrade Doctor? Her smell, I mean." Sokolof's hand gets a sympathetic wince. "Would you like some ice for it, Comrade Sokolof?"

"Yes," Sokolof affirms with a wince, in affirmative to the SMG. "It will keep, Luka. And that is fine, Comrade." The latter replied to Elise. "It feels better if it's wrapped tight. I am just trying to keep it clean."

«Game» It is now dawn.

Maschenko withdraws his hand, leaving Sokolof to Elise's wrapping mercy. Just that little bit of moving around is exhausting, his shoulders slouching against the wall. "Good…clean as you can keep it." His eyes roll slowly to Taktarov, but there's no way his body is going to indulge his mind's need to be doing his duty, and he exhales a measured breath through his nose. "Hmm?" That to Elise, before he looks at Novikova. "Well, it may. It's always hard to tell with the brain. I remember a Spanish War veteran I saw in L'viv who'd gotten knocked in the head and spoke in jumbles. Horrible thing…knew what he wanted to say but just couldn't say it. Three months later he could speak almost perfectly again." He licks his lips, his head rolling slightly against the cracking wall. "Such a fragile thing. The body. Fragile, but so…/stubborn/."

Elise nods slightly to Maschenko's explanation. "Lucky, then," she says softly, frowning a little at the story. "Tight, then, Comrade. Da. Tell me if it's too tight." She'll re-wrap it tightly without cutting off circulation or anything.

Gregor shifts, rifle on a piece of rubble, looking over the early light of morning filtering into the square.

Sokolof winces some as Elise rebandages him, but no contact with that wound is going to be comfortable right now. He doesn't complain. Though Maschenko's story makes him mirror that frown. "She is young and strong. That is helpful I'm sure." Was that an attempt at optimism? It'll probably pass.

"It never hurts." Maschenko is the one that doesn't frown, though his small smile has a tinge of something that's not humor. "Be careful on watch, Efim. Alright?" To Elise, he makes a soft sound in his throat. "I don't know if I would say luck, but…" He pauses for two quiet breaths. "Well. The hardest thing to admit is that we don't understand everything."

Gregor watches the morning develop, "Naah, I admit it all the time, I don't know everything. I'm good at it."

Elise nods to Gregor. "Da, I don't think that's so hard to admit." Even for a teenager, who contractually knows it all by virtue of age. "I just meant lucky that it was just the smell," she clarifies softly. She finishes wrapping Sokolof's hand, "There you are, Comrade. I'll get the ice." Well, snow. Wrapped in a thin cloth.

"Oh. Smell. Yes." Maschenko's puffy eyes drift back open partway as he realizes he was completely babbling on. There's a faint smirk that comes and goes, and he murmurs, "I meant more in general, Comrade Gregor."

Sokolof heads back over to the window when his hand is done. "My thanks," he repeats to Elise. Retaking his post, such as it is.

Novikova stifles a giggle at Gregor. "Da, I saw it. I was worried. I hate those little guns," Sigh. Novikova just shakes her head. "I am sure it will come back in a bit. Brains are a bit slower to heal, aren't they? It's probably just mad I got rattled," She shrugs. But then she's not doctor. And a wink, "And I am sure I smell like everyone else already!" She grins. Although her expression goes more solemn looking to Soko. She falls quiet to listen and nods as the conversation goes on. A deep blush about young and strong.

Elise smiles thinly at Maschenko's babbling. She nods to the departing Sokolof and wrinkles her nose when Novi starts talking about smelling bad. "What I'd give for a hot bath and clean clothes." She looks down at her filthy uniform, and sighs. "Of course we have no baths and I have nothing to give anyway." So there goes that plan.

Gregor nods, "Being clean would be nice, indeed." He says, quietly, watching the light creeping into the square.

"Not always slower," Maschenko murmurs at Novikova. "One never really knows…never really know." His mouth stays firmly closed as the urge to cough grips his chest, forcing the air through his nose in only slightly less painful puffs. "It'll come, Elise. And well, at least you don't stand out."

Novikova frowns, seeing Maschenko fight the urge to cough. "would some steam help?" She offers quietly. "I could empty a can and heat the water a little," She offers. She smiles at Elise, "Da. I would be glad. I feel like I'm growing a shell," She jokes lightly. "Either way… if I can help, I am glad to." She remembers how well they've treated her after all. "Or if I can bring something for Comrade Sokolof. He's always quiet and thoughtful." Beam.

Elise nods to the doctor. "Da, someday," she replies, unconvinced but too polite to argue with a seriously wounded fellow. "That's kind of you, Zoya. I think I'm just going to rest awhile. Let us know if you need anything, Comrade Doctor." She'll head back over to where Zoya's resting and curl up under her blankets.

"No, I don't think so Zoya." Maschenko's lips are moving less and less as he talks, exhaustion finally having made it past the breakers of pain and up onto the beach of consciousness. And now the tide's going out. "Just…make sure you eat." Of course, the last thing he gets out before falling asleep is that. They can let out all the blood in him they want, but they haven't hit the reserve of fuss.

Novikova nods at Maschenko. Poor comrade Doctor. "I will if you will," She promises and smiles. She isn't bothered by his fuss - touched by it really, but he's hurt now. She smiles at Elise. "Alright, best to take rest." She will curl up as well then. Warmth is precious. Even her eyelids begin to droop after a bit. She'll give Elise a little pat though before she sleeps. Still hanging in there.

Elise tucks in next to her cousin for warmth, smiling a little at the pat. "Goodnight, Zoyuschka." And then she's out.

Gregor glances over and then back, smirking.

Novikova smiles and tucks in alongside Elise. "Goodnight," She murmurs. A smile at Gregor. "May your watch be slow," She winks and dozes.

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