(he wouldn't call it a gun, but a microscope. there's no intention to harm fyodor as they are, alone in a new world that seems to like to point fingers and, although not yet, leave a cloud of expectations for punishment that hasn't yet been doled out.

at least he's not mad at the murder attempt. kept it interesting, really, even if it didn't come close to succeeding.)

It is doing great for my legs, I will say that. How did we survive in that teeny space when we're tall is a mystery, Fyfy, but mostly-- no! So far, I can definitely say what we were doing was more interesting.

(what is left in the air is a question - shall we make it interesting again?)