The air was stale and cold— as the echoes of thumping boots go throughout the red army's base from groups of soldier's going in and out of the base doing their usual chores that were a given to them. This was normal half the time— especially when the leader— Tord was busy in his office attending to "important" matters. It was clearly a poor excuse but it was better than dealing with a leader who half of the time smells like nicotine and is in a sour mood for no reason at all.

The office was like a hot-box at this point— as Tord leaned back in his seat, smoke circling from the lit cigarette he held between two fingers. It was another useless, quiet day that had nothing for him— Tord didn't see a point going out of his office where he'd have to deal with annoying soldiers. He'd much rather curl up and die than deal with all the havoc of his army. Though Tord was basically doing nothing, he had a bunch of papers on his desk regarding the illegal shipments he's been sending out.

“Tch— stupid fuckin' government always getting into my precious shipments.”

Tord quietly grunted to himself before taking a quiet inhale of his cigarette.