As Vera climbed into the truck and began to shout at Vasiliev, he couldn't help but sigh, ejecting the spend round from his Mosin Nagant and sliding in a new one with the bolt. He set the rifle down, along with the other rifle and the belt in the space between himself and Vera, then began to drive. He looked at the road silently for a couple moments, waiting for the school to be out of view before speaking. "You were charged with treason." He slowly turned his head to look at Vera, having to stop the truck in traffic. His eyes were cold, dark...haunted, even. It was evident in his voice, in his words, in his expressions...this man had become accustomed to death, and was desensitized because of it. "They were going to kill you." Suddenly, his eyes began to lighten, and that same determination shined through the darkness as he continued to speak. "I wasn't about to let that happen." Then the darkness returned. He then looked back at the road, speeding up as the traffic cleared. "The revolution that you have wanted so badly is coming; my comrades and I have spoken of it nearly everyday, and the fall of the Tsar is inevitable...that is why I have gone to such extreme measures to save you."<br/><br/>Vasiliev was doing his best to dodge checkpoints within the city, but sooner or later, he'd run into one...he knew where to go so he could at least change his clothes. "My brother also spoke of the coming revolution often during my visits, though he prefers the American way of life, that of freedom and democracy, rather than equality and community, or whatever you Soviets are pushing for." He fished into the ammo belt, searching one of the ammo pouches, and finding a cigarette pack...he couldn't help but smirk. "Trading ammo for smokes? He wouldn't have lasted in the trenches." When traffic stopped up again, he pulled out one of the cigarettes and put it in his mouth, lighting it with a match. After a long drag, he looked to Vera, offering one. "It'll help take your mind off what you saw...always did the trick for me, 'cept for a rather Bloody Sunday." He chuckled at his little play on words, but knew inside that if Vera was who he thought she was, then she wouldn't laugh with him.