After listening to this Petrovich grinned and began to press an aluminum pancake (the former thermos lid) with his thumb edgeways into the ground near to his foot. Bashkalo was waiting with the outstretched “Chinese”. Petrovich took the thermos and immediately gave it to Vadim.
– Drink it up, cub. And do not hesitate in front of your comrade Ensign on the rails again.
– Can I have your permission to ask a question, comrade Senior Ensign. How did you know about the second railcar? – asked Vadim. As if nothing had happened.
Petrovich, who immersed in forecasting and planning again, first answered mechanically:
– Accidentally, like everything here, by intuition… Didn't understand, what?
The tea in the thermos was running low and the leaves from the bottom climbed to Vadim's mouth.
– No stupid questions in the Zone, warrior! A tourist, damned adulterer! No chattering! – boomed Petrovich, looming over.
Vadim handed him the thermos with the remaining couple of sips and a handful of wet tea leaves, and suddenly Petrovich growled really angrily:
– So you, bitch, dirtbag, weren't at the briefing?
– My fault, comrade Senior Ensign, said Vadim, managing to replace the natural “I don't understand” with “My fault”.
Petrovich pushed the thermos in the ground, unbuckled the gear, pulled out the collar of the hazmat suit and snatched a roll of a blue electrical tape from behind the back.
– You, motherfucker, have a golden ring on your finger! – He said hastily and furiously. – Take it off now! Take it off quickly, you idiot! Is it rooted or what?
– No… – said Vadim, stunned.
– Yes, take off the decoration, turd! – joined Bashkalo, although somewhat lazily. – But where were you, Nikolaich, the old wolf, looking? Here they are, the geese. I'm telling you! And good people die because of them. And poles get lost.
Bashkalo was smiling shiningly, like a toilet in a shop window. The teeth behind his mustache were rare and white as sugar. He was older then Vadim by five or seven years. Vadim could answer him properly, but again he restrained himself and took off the ring. Petrovich feverishly snatched it with a nail, not instantly, hastily picked up the edge of the tape, pulled out a strip, close to an arm's length, crushed it into a ball, put the ring in its middle and began to wrap layer by layer, moving his lips (“Petrovich prays with a guard duty regulations! Ha-ha-ha!”), no longer pulling PVC tape from the roll. He had used up a half. Finally he tore it off. Having formed a ball he weighed it by a hand. And crossed himself twice. Vadim and Bashkalo opened their mouths. Senior Ensign Petrovich, making the sign of the cross is the mosaic of Lomonosov