Charles
[Courtyard]

◇ Another day, another rocketeering experiment.

□ Standing out in the courtyard with several vials of chemicals and a roughly constructed setup, Silas wasn't exactly launching a rocket today. Rather, he'd been finding that his homemade rocket had always been falling apart from the inside out, which made sense due to its construction from iron pipes, but at the same time something was telling his mad scientist brain that it was the fault of his own design. So, there he was, with a new shipment of valves and tubing and tanks, trying his goddamned best to figure out how to make it so that his rockets not only would fly further, but would have room for hardware to control it mid-flight.

▪︎ So far? Not much luck.

• Lighting a cigarette in a dangerous breach of safety protocol, he stepped away from the setup after about an hour of trying different setups; needless to say, he was feeling somewhat defeated in the moment.
Katrina
Vizhkir had spent the past months learning Swedish. It was not going good at all. He hated the damn language, hated how the words felt in his mouth and most of all hated the alphabet. He knew he was going to have a hard time because of his experince with the English language, but he wasn't expecting this. 

The tall man walked along the courtyard's outskirts watching the skies as always, after all he father drilled that into him. He felt fairly confident in his abilities to navigate about due to that. The sun's postion could tell him at least two directions, from there it was a bit of a guess as to where North and South where. 

Puffing on his cigarette he trailed his eyes around the courtyard, seeing another person and waving. This person was one he had not seen before, and they seemed to be building... Something.
Charles
◇ And just as he walked away...

■ "Huh." Uttered under his breath, he spotted someone totally unfamiliar waving to him. It made sense that a prison of this scale would leave one wandering for months before they were sure they'd seen everyone, but still... He'd been around a lot, so how hadn't seen this talk lad? Waving, he noticed a cig betwixt the other person's fingers, and so when he did wave he made sure to shift his own illicit smoke into the hand he was waving with.

▪︎ Might as well try to strike up a conversation, huh?

◆ "Hey." Soft and fuzzy, his voice rang out like a fleece throw, comforting and timid yet backed with a strong spine. "Lovely weather, huh?"
Katrina
A pretty sounding voice came from the boy. Vizhkir stood there a moment, before nodding. "Da," Came his deep rumble, a sound as masculine as he looked, "Getting warmer by the day"

He was comfortable walking with just his T-shirt and normal pants, not feeling the need for his father's leather jacket. 

Taking a puff he looked at where the boy's project was, "What are you building?" He asked, attempting to strike up a conversation.
Charles
◆ "Sure is." Silas chuckled, feeling like an old man on his porch for a moment. "The weather just keeps getting nicer, bloody hell. Beats Manchester... We'd already be in a permanent rainstorm by now at home."

□ Small talk, sure, but any talk was nice when he was feeling at least a bit frustrated at his current time project. Rocketeering had turned out to be a lot tougher than he'd initially expected, with math, calculations, and a certain scope of knowledge he'd never had to learn before taking up such a dangerous, high stakes hobby. After all, one wrong number and his rocket would explode like a pipe bomb on the launch pad, so it had been a lot of studying, figuring out how the math worked, learning to be a rocket scientist.

▪︎ So far, it had worked out well enough, but now that he was trying to refine his design he felt as if he was hitting a wall.

◆ "Tryna figure out how to make a rocket that doesn't tear itself apart from the inside out." He plainly replied, the cadence of his voice affected by the cigarette dangling perilously from his cracked lips. "Because, yeah, I can send the damn thing into the sky, but there's no control, and Valio found this shit with the insides melted out, so there's obviously a lot of work to be done. So, I've got a rooted set-up, that way I can just... Set up tanks and valves and tubes, set it off, and see how my design works. It's a lot more controlled, rough as it looks."
Katrina
Vizhkir chuckled at this, "By far better than Siberia, or even Moscow. Always cold, even in the summer there's a chill" He said, placing his hands in his hips playing the part of an old man talking to a neighbor about the weather. 

Vizhkir rarely ventured out and talked anymore. He didn't really have the time or patience to do so. His breaks consisted of working out or sitting on the roof the prison smoking. 

"So you are rocket engineer no?" Asked the Russian. He himself had been privileged to tag along with his father while he ran security during one of the Soyuz rocket lunches for the ISS. It was certainly awe inspiring to the young Vizhkir. 

"If the missile melts why wouldn't you reenforce the interior?" The only bit of aerodynamics he knew was from the bits he overheard his father talking about on a flight line. Other than that, he only knew the basics on his own flight worked.
Charles
◆ "Aye, yeah. I'd imagine Russia's always brutally cold, even in the summer." Of course, he'd never been there, but... "Shit, all you Russians gotta do in war is hold out until winter then let the elements do the rest, huh?"

□ Perhaps a mite insensitive, but he figured it was the truth. After all, in his history readings he'd learned that when the Nazis marched on Stalingrad they'd been beat back by the brutal Russian winter, so it only made sense that mother nature itself defended mother Russia from invaders. Puffing on his cigarette, he exhaled a soft cloud of smoke, the wind blowing it back in his face as he winced and slammed his eyes shut.

▪︎ Smoke in the eyed *Sucked,* And he didn't fancy being reminded.

◆ "Not exactly a rocket scientist, just a hobbyist." He spoke, still giving the set-up its due space. "And the insides *Are* Giving me trouble. Not sure how I'd insulate the interior parts, though... Aside from maybe wrapping them in something like asbestos, but then I'd be working with something even worse than rocket fuel, and fuck... I don't wanna do that." He laughed. "Asbestos is a god-awful way to go. At least rocket fuel looks cool on a tombstone."
Katrina
"Asbestos. You just need breathing apparatus no? They still use it. Maybe class II Hazmat suit if you're that worried." The Russian offered. Asbestos is an amazing fire retardant material. The downside is that without proper ppe it was an often deadly substance. "Plus its only dangerous when its a small fiber. Like when you break it." He added. 

Looking at the sky he realized it was getting late, "Look me up if you want to talk about rockets. I know fuck all but I am happy to listen. I'm Vizhkir Valentovich Dragovich, nice to meet you" He said. After shaking the other's hand he left, heading back to his dorm.