Getting to know you, subchapter two: Heavies
No one had screamed, or shot anything in the entire encounter with the women. Heavy had been told there was going to be screaming and shooting, and so was disappointed at the lack of bloodshed. Hunger, however, was clawing at his belly and no bloodshed meant he could finish that sandwich leftover from lunch much sooner than if he had had to do any shooting. It was a reasonable compromise.
He whistled an old tune his mother used to sing to his sisters as he went through a door adjoining the cafeteria, and into the kitchen. The kitchen was small compared to the rest of the base, but the hexagon shaped room still managed to hold two stoves, a microwave, a fridge, and several dozen unopened crates of food rations.
And it was made even smaller by the presence of the female heavy, currently scouring through the fridge.
" Vat are hyou doing in sere?" He demanded, and saw her head lift with… his sandwich dangling out of her thin lipped mouth. The heavy let out a bellow like a wounded wildebeest and prepared to charge at the woman, when she slammed the fridge door and revealed she had an entire plate of sandwiches at the ready.
" I made se extra." She grunted while shoving the remainder of the sandwich in her mouth. " You want share?" The male heavy pulled up short. He could snap her spine for eating his sandwich, or he could accept her offer and get half a plate in recompense.
" Sharing is good."
" Da." The female heavy brought the plate over, and broke it in half. Handing the half plate and sandwiches over to the male, she continued. " Mother Russia, is she hyour homeland as well?" The male nodded, simultaneously thrusting three of the sandwiches down his throat. There was silence except for a few grunting sounds as the pair guzzled their sandwiches. Once he finished, the male cleared his throat.
" My name is Misha. And... about se gulags back home… If ve are se same you were in one in your Russia. Vere?"
" My name is Mariya." The female heavy said as she made her way toward the door to the cafeteria. She paused before going through, and tossed over her shoulder, " I was never in se gulags. My family supported se revolution." She then did her best to squeeze her way through the narrow door, and marched away from the kitchen.
After she left, Misha muttered to himself,
" Sen ve are most definitely not se same."