Illya was deep in thought when his partner came into the canteen, whistling a tune as he nodded at the girl behind the counter.
"Ah, there you are my brooding friend."
"Napoleon … what has you so cheerful this morning?"
"I'm always cheerful, tovarisch. What has you so somber?"
Illya looked down at his hands, an almost involuntary action it seemed to his observant friend.
"Does it ever bother you, Napoleon … the death toll in what we do?"
Napoleon's smile faded into something less expressive.
"You know it does, but hopefully … the numbers reflect a righteous cause."
"Da."
"Yeah."