rp#major-pavel
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A pair of icy, blue eyes widened in shock as the words pounced their way into his ears; he was taken aback by this, more so by the sudden coldness (though it should be expected) but he immediately forgets about it as an acute pain tightens in his chest, and an all too familiar wheezing commences.
Artyom had seen him like that before back at the plane, but one time didn’t seem enough for the sadistic soldier, who, by the tone of his voice, appeared to be enjoying far too much the sight of him (nearly) chocking to death.
The forever struggle between Pavel and gasmasks was enough to leave him frantic and tense, and he doubted the Ranger would help him with it again. He tried to ignore the urge to throw his gasmask away – the feeling of it on his face was suffocating.
Artyom’s words rang in his ears, and Pavel wasn’t sure what they meant anymore. His vision too had become hazy, or perhaps it was just his gasmask’s glass, fogged by his heavy breathing and a couple of tears that had managed to escape because of the severe pain in his lungs.
Time went by slowly – that or Artyom was simply being a bastard and taking forever to hand him a filter – nevertheless, when the Major finally caught sight of the filter in the other’s hands he grabbed it and pulled with such a force that he nearly stumbled backwards. After regaining his step he proceeded to try and loosen the used filter from his gasmask, hands shaking severely and numb fingers, making it nearly impossible to perform such a simple task.
The amount of time lost between finding and handing him a filter had sapped away most of Pavel’s remaining energy, but somehow he was able to finally change filters. A full minute passed in silence, broken only by the hooting outside. It took him a while to get his breathing back to normal, and an even longer period to realize that the numb pain in his hand was due to how tightly he was clutching the empty, metallic capsule as to stop himself from throwing it at Artyom’s head.