“…”

Ogata stays completely silent, as usual, his eyes glued to his rifle. The only sound ringing through the air is the campfire and Vasily’s furious sketching.

Ogata’s eyes narrow towards the Russian’s paper, inspecting the way the charcoal pencil roughly stains. His gaze softens as he looks at Vasily’s face, wishing the Russian could take off that stupid bashlyk so he could peck at his face like a bird, but it’s no use.

He knows Vasily would never let him, yet like him in that way.

Still, the catlike man yearns, wishing he could finally have a genuine relationship with someone he finds to be perfect for him.

No use. Whatever, just keep brooding.

Ogata looks back down at his rifle, and continues staring off into nothing.