[The temperature drop gets his breath to hitch ever so slightly, but doesn't deter his motions, though that hit sure does. He skids back some while bent over as he recovers from it, pulling air back in his lungs and compartmentalizing the pain, but still ready on his toes for attack. He glares up at Dagger with an unhinged type of violence and desperation in his entire being, battling with distinct parts of himself in his head.]
Pochemu net? ['Why Not?' Yes, now he's jumbling up languages, and his voice is harsh and more broken than angry, though there is definitely anger. Not that the Russian is a big problem communication-wise.]
no subject
Pochemu net? ['Why Not?' Yes, now he's jumbling up languages, and his voice is harsh and more broken than angry, though there is definitely anger. Not that the Russian is a big problem communication-wise.]