ILYA.

_{His men pulled out their guns on Elliot as he reached in his coat only to lower them as he revealed his cigarette pack. The bratva narrowed his eyes. Apologize? Him apologize? He meant what he did and he in no way felt bad or remorseful for doing so. It would be a waste of breath and a pointless lie. Putting his hands on his hips let and out humorless laugh, slowly shaking his head. The nerve of this man. He pushed his hair back from his face and met the German’s eyes with his own.}

_{“You are really in no position to ask such things. Now, why are you here? Unless it’s to die I recommend talking.” Ilya advised gesturing towards him with an open hand. How on earth he managed to find one of their hideouts? And to so audaciously show his face here. By all rights he should have killed on the spot yet he chose against it. Perhaps it was some sliver of respect or a curiosity as to what the German can do.}

                              _{———❝ YOU WOULD KILL ME? and here i came with only good intentions in mind… ❞
the man clicked his tongue in distaste, a smile just under the surface of his somewhat theatrical performance. blowing his smoke in ilya’s direction, he flicked a bit of ash off the end of his cigarette. where to begin?}

         _{❝ i have a deal i would like to discuss in private ; no guns, no posse. and to sweeten the pot — ❞
he took a last drag off his tobacco, folding the cigarette filter into his hand and displaying it before his russian counterpart. in an instant, it turned to ash as a searing fire overtook his palm.}

❝ … i’d be willing to undo the damage to your face. ❞
with that, the ash in his palm reignited a white flame, reforming into the tan end of his prior smoke.