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Defiance

Vlad [Reapers]

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Defiance    96

[//Time Frame: Within 30 minutes of when we left you at Vybor Industrial. Care to RP this scene DURING your hostage situation? If not, it's ok.]

Seymour stands West of Vybor. The wind is whipping against his jacket, the sound muffled through his helmet. He can see the town before him, as his sister guards the surrounding hills. A bottle of aged scotch, supposedly created in 1938, is tucked away in his pack. The bottle is half-empty.

He'd been sipping the bottle for several days now, careful to only taste instead of indulge. The first day, a single sip at a time, and only after moving long-distances. The second day, two sips at a time. The third day, three sips at a time, and so on. The scotch had only graced Seymour's pallet until today, when he offered the bottle to Sally. They knew what was happening. It had happened to her before. Seymour knew that is why she drank. 

A simple gesture. A warm gesture. Ignored.

Seymour fetched the bottle, uncorked it, and filled his mouth until his cheeks began to bulge. He swallowed, spat, then cussed. It went down smooth. His chest and belly felt warm.

He clicked on the radio. His voice would be all too familiar.

"Such a shame, Vlad..." he began, sure of the fact that the name he spoke did not truly exist. He continued,"that your boss prefers the warmth of a fire over the warmth of the bottle." 

He hocked back a loogie, and spat while still broadcasting.

" I spit on your fires. Next time share a fuckin' drink with a man..."

He pulled out a cigar from his vest pocket, maneuvered his helmet around, and stuck the cigar between his lips. He fumbled slightly with removing a silver zippo from the pocket as well, but then stopped. He thought of the rifle the first brave Reaper was carrying. Was it the man he'd met in Severograd? No, surely not...That man would have drank.

Still, the light from the zippo was too risky. This is the point where Seymour became frustrated.

" For fuck's sake, even! A beautiful woman was offering! The fuck happened back there!?"

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(//OOC shortly after the encounter at an abandoned house.)

*Anton looks around the room and chuckles at the mans words, then lifting the radio from the table he begins broadcasting.*

"Hey....Mik!!..Mikhail!!....listen to this guy, I don't know what to say to this...."

*You can hear Anton talking and agreeing with himself in the background.*

"Hey look at me...Im the good guy!......Mista Jack says save the weak and Brother says take advantage of them.....AARRGGHHHH!!!!!!"

*He changes his tone to that matching his late Brother and continues.*

"Choices choices Anton....remember THEY killed Katyusha, those rats who would EXPECT! your help and supplies"

*After a couple of seconds he can be heard clearing his throat and collecting himself, then he returns to his normal voice.*

"errrr...sorry mista American I don't drink"

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Defiance    96

(//OOC shortly after the encounter at an abandoned house.)

*Anton looks around the room and chuckles at the mans words, then lifting the radio from the table he begins broadcasting.*

"Hey....Mik!!..Mikhail!!....listen to this guy, I don't know what to say to this...."

*You can hear Anton talking and agreeing with himself in the background.*

"Hey look at me...Im the good guy!......Mista Jack says save the weak and Brother says take advantage of them.....AARRGGHHHH!!!!!!"

*He changes his tone to that matching his late Brother and continues.*

"Choices choices Anton....remember THEY killed Katyusha, those rats who would EXPECT! your help and supplies"

*After a couple of seconds he can be heard clearing his throat and collecting himself, then he returns to his normal voice.*

"errrr...sorry mista American I don't drink"

While listening to the broadcast, Seymour drank more of the scotch. Some of it even dribbled down his chin. He pulled off his right glove, wiped it up with the back of his hand, and then licked at the back of his hand. The aged taste had truly began to grow on him. He was glad the whiskey was over a hundred years old -- It meant that he wouldn't have any sort of taste to remember such an unpleasant evening.

He stood confused through most of the conversation, slightly annoyed that the only line directed towards him involved a reference towards keeping the bottle away. That wasn't how Seymour was raised. Since he became a teenager, he'd always had some sort of vice. Booze was usually the favorite, and as such he'd had a difficult time empathizing with the struggle of sobriety.

He clicked in the button on the side of the radio:

"You're a pretty decent liar, you know? Sometimes a man can trust a liar..." 

Seymour still had the cigar between his lips. 

"But I can't trust me a man who don't drink..."

Seymour ended that particular transmission, but quickly switched frequencies to get a hold of Sally. After a few brief sentences, the two began moving further West, deeper into the treeline and the cover of darkness. As they moved, Seymour switched the frequency back and slung his AK-74U into his hands. They moved deliberately and quickly. Once in cover again, Sally began choosing a new position while Seymour sat silently with the radio, perhaps awaiting another response.

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