With barely concealed amusement, the Russian leaned forward and studied the amazing injury.
"I'm not sure we'll be able to fix it..." He sighed theatrically. "Stitches? Won't be enough... Though...", he hesitated, "at the moment..." He grabbed the lips of the wound and joined them not too gently.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
"Take it easy and grit you teeth..."
Illya took a safety pin and stitched up the wound. "At least, it isn't bleeding..."
"This isn't remotely funny! I know this smile of yours and..."
The Russian brushed dust away from the torn pants. "Mr Waverly's gonna love that..."