By the time Glaz had made it back to his own quarters that he shared with the rest of the Spetznaz, he decided he should sleep on speaking to Caveira. The quarters were all comfortably spacious. They were like small apartments with one main room with a television, couch, and what was to be expected in an average multipurpose room. The Spetznaz main room had an assortment of Russian items on walls and mantels. There was a Russian flag on the wall and Alexandr (Tachanka), had put a rather large collection of vintage vodka bottles on one of the shelves.
Glaz chuckled at the idea that Alexandr was probably older than those bottles and had most likely been the one to drink them dry over the years. Each of the operators had their own separate rooms that branched out from the main room. However, their private rooms were small with only a bed and a dresser. Glaz had put his paintings on the walls of his room. It was a comfortable reminder that the world he lived in was worth fighting for, for its subtle beauty.
With a yawn, the artist undressed and slipped into bed. Deep in his mind he knew he would not be able to sleep because a specific problem, but he pushed the thought aside and turned off his light. Try as he might, he was not going to be able to fall asleep. The sniper tossed and turned in his sheets for the better side of and hour until he finally admitted to defeat.
Glaz, got up, rubbed his eyes and face as though he was trying to wipe the fatigue right off. He headed to bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. However, he acknowledged the cause of his lack of sleep. His conscience demanded that he remedy the embarrassment that he had caused to Caveira.
Glaz was not a coward. He had been in many gunfights, and not all of them were long range. He had even been caught out in a close quarter battle. He made plenty of use of his knife and pistol then. He shuddered when the memory came to mind, but he did not "withdraw" from a fight. However, when it came to personal conversation with other people than his Spetznaz comrades, let alone a woman, he was quite uncomfortable and would duck out when the opportunity came.
The marksman decided that since he wouldn't be getting much sleep he might as well head down to the mess hall. The mess hall had a striking resemblance to a school cafeteria except it was way more industrial with grey concrete walls and some steel pipes running along the wall. The appearance never mattered as it was the people that made the mess hall entertaining. All the lights in the mess hall were off except the one that was above the 15-gallon coffee pot. It was a late hour so there was no one there. As a matter of fact, everyone was probably sleeping, Except for himself of course.
Glaz finished pouring himself a cup of coffee and thoughtfully sipped on it on his way to the gun range. The indoor pistol range was always open. Glaz had brought his PMM to hone his skills. Yet in almost a childish way, he was avoiding what he needed to do by finding things to distract himself with. After what was probably 45 minutes the sniper finally gave in to his conscience.
Glaz had painstakingly and slowly mad his way to the BOPE quarters. He knocked on door quietly at first and then louder when there was no reply. "Filho da puta" he could make out from the other side of the door. Glaz heard light foot steps coming toward the door. "Do you have any idea what time it i-" befor Glaz could say anything the door was being slammed in his face. However he manged to get a hand inbetween the door and the fram. It was painful but to Glaz he firgured it would be worth it. "Now look what you've done. Your bleading all over the place. Come in so I can wrap up your hand" said Caveira with a exasperated and frustrated voice. Glaz obliged. He took note of how there were no flags or posters or other things. The room was completely empty of personal items.
It now occured to Glaz that his quarters were so decorated because he didn't come from a third world country. He was pulled from his train of thought when Caveira asked in a harsh voice, "What do you want?" as she started wraping his hand with a napkin. "Im sorry" was all he said at first. There was a brief and comfortable moment of silence as Caveira kept on. "I probably shouldnt have put you on the spot like that." "Probably?" came the reply from the busy woman. Glaz winced as she finished wraping and ablruplty tied a tight knot. "Okay. Definanlty shouldn't have." he stated. "that's better." She said refering to both his hand and humilty.
-Sorry to cut it here but I'm pooped. It probably needs a lot of edits too but I just wanted to get this out on fanfic-
