<div align="center"><strong>Why They Changed It Semyon 'Semi' Prudius Can't Say; People Just Liked It Better That Way</strong></div><br/>"Went to Istanbul once. Guarding diplomat. Assassin tried to kill diplomat. Failed horribly." Semyon said, not bothering to clarify whether he failed or the assassin failed. One could probably infer from the fact that he was not rotting in a gulag in the coldest place in Russia that it was the latter, but one could never be certain: the collapse of the Soviet Union had certainly mollified things in Russia. He sat with his hands folded in his lap, easily settling into idleness while they waited. "Try donair kebab. Delicious. Lamb is best." The Russian added, speaking to fill the silence rather than out of a sense that the gathered mercenaries were carrying on a conversation with one another.<br/><br/>Thankfully, they were soon saved from this dire peril by Siouxsie's reappearance and the beginning of the briefing. The Russian listened, and it was typical standard fare. He raised a questioning eyebrow at the chiding about complete obliteration. It appeared that Siouxsie had mistaken Semyon for Rafael or the new Canuckistani member of their outfit - they were the ones who handled the explosives, and as such, they were totally the ones who needed to be told that they could not employ explosives to annihilate a target. And because they followed the rules of war - despite being mercenaries and explicitly exempted from the protection of the Geneva Convention and other international agreements to the protection of lawful combatants - he would not be issued a flamethrower. So really, Semyon was the last person who needed such a chiding.<br/><br/>Why could no one tread softly? They trode roughshod over his dreams, and laughed with every step.<br/><br/>Semyon shifted, and looked over at his compatriots briefly before returning to Siouxsie. "Am having question. Will be supported by Tunisian Armed Forces? Or any assets in theater?"