[ ah, there it is. dostoevsky's mind calculates and switches gears; even killing him hasn't changed gogol's... sentiments. not that fyodor is an expert on the matter but at least there are no signs of that sort of shift just yet. they are still the most dearest of friends.
the poncho is slid over his head and then flung at gogol once he's close enough.
there, see? he's acknowledging gogol without really acknowledging him. except he clearly has turned towards gogol, enough to flash a mean little smile. ]
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the poncho is slid over his head and then flung at gogol once he's close enough.
there, see? he's acknowledging gogol without really acknowledging him. except he clearly has turned towards gogol, enough to flash a mean little smile. ]