Brutal/violent Russia – nehnehneh~
On his way to the bathroom, he made sure to let everyone in the house know how mad he was by stamping his feet, making the floor whine and creak under his weight.
When he was about two or three meters from the door, his sister opened and looked out in the hallway. When her eyes found him, she gasped lightly and got out, and the aristocrat inside made a surprised sound. So he was awake.
"Mr. Russia, I… What happened?" she interrupted herself as she saw the wound on Ivan's arm.
"Pay it no attention. Go down in the living room. You will find that one of our guests is damaged. Help her, if you like, but don't ask any questions. Don't answer any questions. And should you think about coming here afterwards or just later – don't do it," he finished and looked deeply into her big and confused, pretty eyes for a few seconds before his hand grabbed around the knob and he pushed the door open.
The aristocrat was still in the tub. He turned his face towards the new person and the instant the body and face was recognized, he gasped and tried to get as far away from him as possible, although he couldn't – or didn't want to – get out of the tub. He just pushed himself more against the edge.
"You!" he howled, the sound bouncing off the walls.
"Who else had you expected?" the Russian answered, voice cold and harsh. He closed the door behind him and locked it.
The Austrian looked pretty anxious by this, but it was nothing compared to the other emotions that fought each other in his eyes. The same as always. Misery, pain, confusion, hatred, shame.
"Could… could you please unlock the door?"
"Nyet." was the short and chill answer as the owner of the voice grabbed the back of the chair in front of the bathtub, turned it around and sat on it backwards. He rested his arms on the back of the chair and looked at the other man.
He was still gorgeous. He hadn't let the water touch his hair, and Mariazell still stood up. The skin so pale, except for the face. This part of him was a strong nuance of pink which made him even prettier. And although his purple eyes looked at him with all those emotions, they were as charming as ever.
Ivan had no intention of waiting. He was mad, yes, but he would not let that stop him.
"How are you?" he asked, lowering his voice a tad. He made sure to observe every gesture and expression the other man pulled off.
Confusion and mistrust.
"Horrible."
"Would it help if you got out of the water and into some warm clothes? I trust the water has become cold by now."
"…Probably." The Austrian was not at all sure about what was going on here, but he was positive that it couldn't be good. Judging from the night before, he…
He looked away from the tall man. It was no good to dwell about it. He just needed an explanation.
"How much do you remember from yesterday?" This question came as quite a shock for him. He had somewhat expected the Russian to let him get out of the cold water and to give some warm clothes, according to the previous question.
"I'm sorry?" he said, wanting to know if he had actually heard correct.
"How much do you remember from yesterday?" The exact same question. He had heard correct.
"… I remember everything," he then whispered, head bowed and voice quiet. Yes, he indeed remembered everything that had been going on this night. He could even see the lust pictured in Ivan's face, but he did not want to. He drove out the image, shaking his head lightly.
"What do you want now?" the Russian now asked, absolutely not following the normal human's way of explaining or elaborating things.
"What?"
"You heard me. Answer."
"I…"
What did he actually want? Sure, he wanted to get out of here faster than Gilbert could down a liter of beer, and never mention this again. But he also wanted to know why Ivan had done it. He had one reason, indeed, but just becoming one with the other? Was that really all Ivan wanted? And would he really do such drastic things, such as… rape – the Austrian swallowed, not wanting to use the word – to accomplish his goals?
But then again. It was Ivan, the most feared and mighty of them all. He probably didn't need another reason than that. He was also kind of sadistic. It would look like him to do such a thing.
The aristocrat looked into the two violet pools and was surprised by seeing something like… could it really be resentment and sorrow? In those normally strong and cold eyes? Was it really possible for human emotions to find their way to this person and make them shine through so clear?
He held his breath for a few more seconds before he slowly stuttered:
"I-I want to know exactly... why you did as you did... tonight."
"I wanted you to become one with me. Isn't that clear as the ice covering water in the winter?"
"It sure is, but I think… I... I think there is another reason behind."
"Why would you think that?" Ivan asked, his voice being cold as the Siberian winter and got up from the chair in such a haste he tipped it over. The banging noise startled the smaller man and made him twitch in the tub. The water splashed about and some seeped over the edge of the tub and made the carpet under it wet.
"Why would you think there was another reason than simply the one than I want you to become one with me? Do you have a reason to think that I am lying?" His voice. Loud. Scary.
"It's just… Your eyes reveal there is... something going on inside you. Other things... than the eternal hatred you always show."
Silence for a few minutes, the atmosphere tensioning up a bit.
"You sure have a lot of courage, aristocrat. Saying such things to the biggest man you know, to the man who has just raped you and made you crumble under his touches. You even have significant bruises."
He pointed them out on his arms.
The words made Roderich flinch and he bowed his head, turning his head away from the Russian. He knew that. He didn't need to be told what he had been exposed to!
He ignored the short struck of anger and talked to the other man again.
"I know what you did last night, Ivan. My mind remembers and my body most certainly do as well. All I want to know is why you did it? It can't just be because you wanted me to become one with you."
He received a long and hard glance for this comment. The purple orbs were growing colder and colder, the human in him slowly melting away.
"Why would there need to be another reason?"
"Well, even though you are a big and mighty man and all that, and even though you are known for being tough as a diamond, although far from as pretty, I'm sure there are human feelings and emotions behind the facade," the Austrian answered and hugged his knees, his face wincing at the pain it caused.
Ivan just stood there, looking at the small man, feeling his anger slowly build up again.
"You don't know anything about me, mister always-high-and-mighty!" he hissed, narrowing his eyes.
Roderich couldn't help but smile, despite the situation he was in.
"Oh, but I do, Ivan. I do. Do you remember that day you brought me here? When I woke up, you kind of lost your senses and started yelling, you told me about your childhood, how you have felt all your life, and…"
His words were cut off as Ivan grabbed around his throat and lifted him high into the air, anger taking over. His eyes were now wide open, but the pupils in them were so small they nearly weren't there. He looked mad.
"Do not dare talk to me about that incident! It is never to be mentioned again, you hear me?"
"L…Let go…" Roderich hissed, his face slowly loosing blood and air. Ivan shook a few seconds, gritting his teeth, before putting Roderich down on the wet carpet.
The water ran down the slender body, and Roderich shivered. It was cold standing here. His neck hurt and it was still hard to breathe. He coughed. The pain in his back was tremendous, but he kept standing.
He felt on his neck, almost feeling the bruise the big hand had left.
"My… My apologies for bringing it up," he mumbled and turned his back to the other man, wanting to get some clothes on.
Ivan just snorted and threw a towel at his head.
"Dry yourself. You are no good if you are sick," he said and crossed his arms, still looking away from the other. "I'll get you some clothes." He then left the room, making sure to lock the door again.
Roderich was confused out of his mind. What the heck was that man's problem? Why couldn't he just talk and be open about it? It was probably his pride. Like Vash. Vash was also very proud and even when he felt bad or sad, he would never ever let it show, let alone talk about it. The things humans were able to hide to maintain their pride...
He slowly stroked the towel against his skin, drying himself with gentle movements, every bone in his body hurting like wildfire. It was a somewhat soothing feeling, the incredibly soft towel that caressed his skin. He sighed deeply and then waited for Ivan to bring him some clothes. He sat down on the chair, covering himself partly with the towel. He still had some dignity, despite the awkward situation. He closed his eyes. The pain, oh Gott, the pain...
He started thinking. How long was he going to stay here? A few days, weeks, perhaps a couple of months? He was scared. Scared and afraid. Afraid of the Russian and what he knew he was capable of. He was scared that he would never see Elizabeta again. It would be dreary never to see Ludwig again, and he would probably end up missing even Gilbert's noisy and otherwise annoying behavior.
Would the others be looking for him? Would they start searching for him, trying to find out what had happened to him? They probably would. But another question then caught his attention. If someone really did go look for him, if someone really was going to find and save him, they for sure wouldn't be let in, neither by Ivan or his maniac little sister. They would surely hinder them in getting in, no doubt about that. The big sister would never be let near the door. She was too kind and not able to make people leave.
He felt cold. So cold and alone, despite knowing there were many caring persons in this house. Ivan's cute older sister and the three Baltics. Although he didn't know them, he was pretty sure they were friendly and not hostile as the Russian was.
But he felt alone. He didn't know anyone living in this house. He normally didn't talk to either Ivan, his sisters, nor did he talk to, let alone know, the Baltics.
He had stopped drying himself. He found himself looking down at his pale, naked feet with their long, slender toes. He had always hated his toes. They were so… he didn't know how to describe it, he just found them repulsive. He preferred his fingers, he liked his fingers. Also long and slender, but much more beautiful and useful.
He led them into his field of vision and looked at them. The only thing that didn't hurt. Their gentle and slow movements when he did nothing special fascinated him, calmed him. Their fast end precise movements when he played the piano took his breath away. Without his fingers, he would not be happy. He needed to be able to play his wonderful piano and his violin. He would be nothing without his music.
He sighed deeply and raised his head, looking at the door and hoping Ivan would come back soon.
Ivan was furious. How dared that prissy aristocrat question him like that! He should know better! That man knew what he, Ivan, was capable of and how violent he could be. He sure did have a lot of courage, being able to talk to him in that way. He would pay for this later, yes, he would!
But how? How was he going to make Roderich regret the way he had spoken to him? Abandonment? Harsh words? … Pain?
The corners of his mouth curled upwards, forming a wicked smile on his face. Yes. Pain. Roderich couldn't withstand pain, he hated it. Even the smallest wound made him all teary and miserable. All the more reason he had passed out last night. Made sense now.
He turned left at the end of the hallway, walked to another room and gathered some clothes he thought would fit the other. It was not Roderich's usual standards, but he would have to get accustomed to it. Or he could walk naked around the house.
'Not that I would mind it, though' Ivan thought to himself and the smile grew, as he walked back to the bathroom.
His steps became slower when he could see the door. He may be angry, mad, furious, but he was afraid he would take it out on Roderich, and although he was sure pain was the right way to gain total control over him, now wasn't the right time. He needed… time… to make Roderich trust him, just a little before going on with his plan.
He had reached the bathroom-door and unlocked it. The smaller man inside instantly turned his head, placing a hand over the towel to make sure that his vital regions were fully covered. He blushed lightly, feeling a little embarrassed, but not entirely sure why.
"Yo…you're back," he mumbled and looked away.
"Da. I have brought you some clothes," the other answered and put them on the sink. By accident, he looked at his arm and saw how the wound had gotten a little bigger and the blood continued to seep. It was impressive the aristocrat hadn't noticed it and not mentioned it.
He grabbed the towel, took off his shirt and pressed the towel against the wound, watching the white fabric absorb the blood dyeing it a deep red.
Roderich looked like he was going to puke.
"What, you've never seen blood before?" Ivan snarled and removed the towel to inspect the wound. It was still bleeding profusely. He sighed and said something in Russian the other didn't hear and tied the towel around his arm.
"N-Not that much," the other whispered weakly, face going back to the normal pale nuance.
"Nonsense. Of course you have. You have been in wars, so of course you've seen this much blood and probably even more." Ivan snorted and looked at the other. His face and voice changed from hard and cold to more relaxed and sad.
"Well, that may be so, but that doesn't mean I'm totally excited by the sight of blood," Roderich mumbled and turned around, not wanting to look at all the blood.
"Pansy," came it from the other who had leaned against the door frame, looking at the other's back.
He got a little angry again. He wanted answers, damn it! He wanted to know why Ivan had done that to him.
"Ivan, you better answer me now. Why did you…. Why did you r…rape me?"
"I already told you." The answer came almost before Roderich had finished his question. "I wanted you to become one with me, and since you didn't want to form a contract of alliance with me, I figured that would be the only way." He tried to push back the emotions that suddenly overwhelmed him.
He suddenly wanted to say the truth. That he loved him, Roderich, and how he had loved him for such a long time, how he had always sent secret gazes at him at the meeting. He had made sure that he and Yao would be placed close to each other at the meetings, so everyone would think he was looking at Yao when he was actually looking at Roderich.
He wanted to tell this to him. But he couldn't. He couldn't let himself be any more vulnerable than he already had been. He was supposed to be strong and mighty; he couldn't allow himself to show signs of vulnerability.
"I already told you, so stop asking me," he repeated and turned to walk out of the bathroom, when suddenly, he felt a hand grab around his arm, hesitantly and kind of weak, yes, but it was there. He turned around, surprised, and saw Roderich stand there, of course, who else, with his arm stretched out and his hand placed on the other's arm.
"Ivan… stop giving me that… that dung. I know there is another reason! It shows in your eyes. Please, tell me why." His eyes were met by two purple orbs where he could see so many emotions whirl around. So many emotions he had never expected the other could show.
Ivan avoided his eyes. He didn't want to let the other know. He already knew far too much. He had seen him break apart and be so weak. He didn't need to see any more of that.
"Nyet," he then answered, "you've already seen too much. You've seen me…. You have been lucky enough to see the biggest man crumble, break apart. Isn't that enough for you?"
Roderich bit his lips.
"It's not like it was pleasant to…. To witness that incident, you know. It was actually quite frightening and I don't want to experience it ever again. But now, I want to know exactly why you acted as you did the other night. There simply has to be another reason that just the alliance-thing."
"There. Is. Not." The other said, making a pause between each word. He looked angry again. More angry than anything else. "I raped you, simply because I wanted you to become one with me. That's all… there is to it." He said it out loud, to assure the other that this was the truth, but also starting to make himself want to believe it. How suddenly his mood changed.
"I don't believe-"
Smack.
Ivan had hit Roderich in the face, slapped him, and a red hand-shaped mark already started to appear on his cheek. He stood like that for a few seconds, showing the side of his head to the other, before slowly turning towards the Russian.
He looked furious. His eyes were once again glistening with anger and he had already lifted his hand for another hit.
"I said, Roderich, that there is no other explanation, nor another reason, for that act. It was purely a matter of alliance. It is now fulfilled, and you will have to stay here for a long, long time. You will never see your beloved Elizabeta again. Neither will Ludwig or Gilbert be talking to or with you. Shortly speaking, you will not see any of those you know for a very long time. You are, though, allowed to walk around the house, again with the exception of the study, khorosho?"
Roderich wasn't given time to react before Ivan was out of the room, having tossed the towel on the floor, the white fabric dyed an even deeper nuance of red. Roderich looked at it for a few seconds before turning away, not able to look at it. It sickened him.
He slowly walked over to the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. He gasped and instantly took several steps back, almost stumbled over the towel. When he had regained balance, he looked down himself. The mirror didn't lie. He really was covered in bruises and a few actual wounds, although they didn't bleed. Ivan sure had been rough to him…. He didn't remember anything about such tremendous pain these marks surely must have brought with them.
With shaking limbs, he got into the clothes Ivan had gotten for him – not his style; it was a blue sweater and a pair of red pants; but he put it on either way and walked out into the hallway, not really knowing what he should or wanted to do.
He therefore just walked around for about ten minutes, walking very slowly because of the pain in his back, before he reached a door he didn't remember. He opened up and the moment he stepped inside the room, he was overwhelmed with high and angry voices.
"I already told you scumbags to leave, didn't I?" Without doubt, it was Ivan's voice that resounded in the living room. He sounded mad. Really, really mad.
Roderich dared, against all his instincts that told him to not give a fuck and just run for it, to look inside and found a shocking sight.
Elizabeta, Ludwig, Gilbert and Francis sat close together near a window, looking frightened at the man in front of them. His normally pale face was red as the blood his wound still bled, and he was yelling and, probably, cursing in Russian. His older sister stood beside him, desperately trying to calm him down. Tears were falling from her eyes and her cheeks were flushed.
Roderich was shocked to see the pained expression on Elizabeta's face, the blood drooling from Gilbert's lips, Ludwig with a high-held gun, ready to shoot if necessary, and Francis' scared expression.
He let the door wide open as he stepped inside and looked at the other.
"Ivan…" he whispered, drawing the attention towards him. Ivan had apparently not heard, 'cause his face showed surprise when he turned around. It then turned to a more sinister and insane smile as he grabbed Elizabeta by the arm and dragged her forward, making the other roar and try to get her back, with no luck.
She screamed in pain, a high-pitched tone that went right to the marrow and made Roderich shiver, as she tried to keep up with the Russian. When he let go of her hand, she stood so weird. Bent to one side. Her hands were pressed at her rib cage, and she cried, actually cried. Roderich had never seen her cry, not like that.
"E-Eliza… Lizzie?" he whispered, going towards her, shocked, momentarily forgetting his own pain. She looked at him, opened her eyes, by his voice. "What happened to you?"
She just turned her eyes towards Ivan who stood right beside her, still smiling his sinister smile. Roderich looked at him, feeling the anger rise inside him.
"What have you done to her, Ivan?" he asked, voice low but still very audible. Nothing else was said in the room.
"Broken a few ribs," he said, sounding happy, like a children that was being praised, "but it's only about three or four; she'll manage," He then walked over to his sister, the smile melting away while walking.
"Sure," Gilbert then mumbled and wiped some more blood away with the backside of his hand, "it's only about a quarter or a third of her ribs in that side,"
"She will manage," Ivan repeated, sending the ex-nation an annoyed look before talking with his sister. "Why are they still here? Didn't I explain it well enough? They should be out of the house, away, at their own places!"
"But, Mr. Russia, they wouldn't leave," the poor girl said, tears still streaming down her cheeks, looking very uneasy, "they said they didn't care about the pain, that they wanted to take Mr. Austria with them, and…"
Ivan instantly silenced her by lifting a hand and look to Ludwig, Gilbert and Francis.
"Is that so~?" he nearly purred, slowly walking over to them, not caring about Elizabeta or Roderich anymore. "But, I think I made it perfectly clear what pain you would all sustain if you didn't get out of here, didn't I?"
"O-Oui, you did," Francis stuttered, looking utterly afraid, shivering lightly.
"Then, why are you still here?" he asked, smile growing bigger, pupils narrowing, making him look more mad than normally.
"We… we demand Roderich goes with us," Ludwig said and stood up with shaking legs. He still pointed the gun towards the Russian, looking both scared – which was a highly unusual expression on his face – and anger, determination. "We won't leave voluntarily without him."
"Then," Ivan said and walk over to him, picking up the pipe on his way, swinging it from side to side, looking at the German, "I guess you just won't be leaving voluntarily!"
"Mr. Russia, please, nyet! Don't hurt them more!" his sister begged, tears streaming down her face.
The sound of the pipe that hit Ludwig echoed in the room. His eyes closed and he fell instantly as he started bleeding from the crack in his head. The blood seeped out dangerously fast.
Gilbert was over him in a matter of seconds, tearing off his jacket and pressing it against the wound, tears creeping into the corners of his red eyes.
"Bruder!" he looked at the face, terrified by its pale color, not really knowing what to do other than try and stop the bleeding, with no success. He then looked at Ivan, eyes showing the utmost hatred and anger for the man. "Ivan... Ficken Schwanz! What do you think you're-"
Before he finished the sentence, the pipe also hit him, also in the head, and made him fall to the side, his face going blank and blood seeping out from his head as well.
Ukraine screamed and grabbed her face, eyes widening with shock and fear.
"Brother!" she cried and ran over to him, trying to force the pipe out of his hand. He wouldn't let her; he pushed her away, turning to Francis, who crawled back, whining something in French.
Ivan lifted the pipe once more and swung it against his head, hitting the exact spot as he had on the others. He then smiled and looked at Elizabeta and Roderich.
The Austrian desperately tried to help her calm down and ease her pain, at the same time trying to cover her and hide her.
"Please, Ivan," he begs, "Don't hurt her. You have hurt her bad enough. Let her go."
"Nyet," is the answer and the pipe is swung again, but instead of hitting Elizabeta, he stopped it as Roderich had jumped in front of her, eyes closed and looking like he knew he was going to die or at least pass out. But as he didn't feel the enormous pain, he opened one eye and saw the pipe so close to him that it was blurry.
His heart was pounding like crazy, and his breathing was superficial. He was half a centimeter from dying.
At first, Ivan looked shocked. He knew that Roderich was aware he would have been dead if the pipe had hit him. That must mean that he really loved Elizabeta as he was ready to sacrifice his own life for her. Then, Ivan smiled and let the pipe down alongside his tall body.
"Move. Out of the way," Ivan snarled. Roderich's body shook, but it was absolutely not doubtable that the shaking of his head wasn't part of the fear. He meant "no".
"Move!" Ivan then yelled, making everyone conscious in the room jump. "Get out of the way, and you will survive, but the lady will die. Keep standing there, and you will die, but the lady will live."
This was, of course, just a joke. He would of course not kill Roderich, but he would most likely kill or knock out the Hungarian.
But the Austrian didn't move. Not a single inch, although he shook even more violent now. Ivan smiled.
"So," he said, taking a step closer and looking at Roderich, then Elizabeta, "you're ready to give your life for saving her?"
"Y-Yes," he answered and took a step backwards, trying to protect her even more.
"I see." His eyes were cold, yet warm. Insane, yet sane. It looked like he was thinking hard, the cogwheels turning in his brain almost audible.
"I'll let you both go." He then turned to his sister, who still stood and looked and absolutely horrified.
"Sister, take care of those… other. Send them home, bury them and let them dig their way out, or whatever you may like. Just make sure they leave this place. And of course, take Mrs. Hungary with you, but watch out. She seems to be in pain." The last sentence was sneering and he laughed when he had finished it.
She nodded and bowed before calling over Toris who wasn't late and when he entered the room, he gasped and took a few steps backward by the sight of the three unconscious persons and the utterly terrified Elizabeta and Roderich.
"Wha-" he was going to say, but the Ukrainian hushed him, sending a scared look to her brother before saying what they were going to do. He looked absolutely horrified and didn't even dare to gaze at the Russian before lifting one of the bodies, shaking under the weight, and then exiting the room, followed by the girl.
There existed total silence in the room until Toris had picked up Gilbert and the Ukrainian had persuaded the Hungarian to follow her, supporting her and holding a hand to her ribs, whispering soothing words to her. Roderich looked desperate after her, nervous that more things would happen to her.
Then, the big man looked down at Roderich, smiling an unnerving smile, walking towards him.
"Remember my words, Roderich. You will stay in this house for a long time. You better get used to the way of living here. Otherwise, it might have fatal consequences," he said, whereupon he left the room. The moment he had slipped through the door, Roderich collapsed.
His knees quivered and he gave in, legs sliding to the sides, pain coming back, until he sat on his bum, and he hid his face in his hands, tears running down his face.
"Oh Gott," he mumbled between the sobs he let out, "Oh Gott, oh Gott, oh Gott…" He repeated this several times while he sat there; totally unaware that Ivan had come back and stood in the door, watching him suffer. And he didn't smile now. Not in the slightest. Not even a hint of amusement was to be found in the deep ponds of purple water.
"What have I done…" Roderich them mumbled, leaning even more forward, running his fingers through his hair. Ivan jerked ever so slightly, remembering how he had whispered the exact same words on that night, only with far more pain and self-hatred. He watched the aristocrat take off his glasses and wipe the sleeve of the shirt in his face.
He hiccuped a single time before putting his glasses on again and standing up, breathing deeply, sniveling a bit before turning around, where his eyes fell upon the man in the door. His face turned red and he briskly walked by the Russian, atmosphere getting very awkward.
The Russian didn't move. He was standing completely still, looking at the place the Austrian had been sitting. He didn't know if he wanted to follow the aristocrat, just to freak him out, or if he wanted to be a little alone.
He decided to follow the aristocrat and turned around, just in time to see him pass a corner. Ivan speeded up, passed the corner and saw the other man go into the guest room.
Here, he sat down on the couch and sighed again, every now and then looking at the door, expecting the Russian to show up. Which he, of course, also did.
And when he did, he made sure to look tough, yet childish, as he was used to. He stamped his feet so he was sure the aristocrat heard him and made him turn his head at the sound.
"Oh… it's you," he just said and looked away.
"Da," he answered and walked over to the couch, standing beside the other man. "You better stop crying. It won't do you any good here, in this house. You must know that."
Roderich flinched at the words and his face reddened again.
"That is none of your business, Ivan. I have my own way of behaving, no matter where I am. Ja, I know it will not help me or do me any good, but please, just let me alone. Your presence is not helping me, either." This only made Ivan chuckle and move closer, practically breathing on the other's neck.
"I mean it, Ivan. G-Go away," He stumbled over the last words. Even though he honestly didn't want the Russian to be here right now – or just at all – he didn't have the courage to tell him so. Ivan was just too damn scary.
"Nyet. I will stay here, for ever and ever, right beside you," the Russian said, aiming to freak the other out, and apparently succeeding in this. Either way, the smaller man twitched and looked at him.
"I am serious in this, Ivan. Leave me alone," the aristocrat says and gets up, eyes locked on the other's. But the Russian just smiles.
"Or else?" he teased, leaning his face closer to the Austrian's. He notices how the small man's face reddens again, deeper. He is scared. He can almost smell the fear. But the aristocrat doesn't want to lose face.
"O-Or else I'll make sure there'll be hell to pay when I get out of here."
"Ha! I would love to see that from you, Roderich!" the Russian laughs, pats the aristocrat's shoulder and walks out the room again, leaving the smaller man to himself.
This was going to be interesting.