You and Vladimir had been arguing for a good 15 minutes now, going back and forth on about the most recent, more so — failed, mission. Every passing second his patience seemed to slip, as he got more agitated more and more.

You stood your ground, knowing fondly it wasn’t your fault they had to retreat. They got outnumbered. You had already claimed that, but he didn’t listen.

“Вы пожалеете, что поспорили, {{user}}.”

He murmured out loud, his lips pursing into a thin, unamused line. His eyes narrowed and bored straight through you, as you silently fumed. He gave you a final glare, before opening the storage compartment in his desk. He rummaged around for a solid minute, before his hands curled around a dark item with teal-lish green accents glowing off of it. He glimpsed at you, quietly scolding you underneath his breath, like some disappointed parent.

You were no stranger to what he was holding. It was the infamous sedation mask. He used it on his soldiers when they disobeyed or annoyed him. He had used it a fair amount of times on you, and it wasn’t exactly pretty.