The men with guns are lean-faced, narrow-eyed and alert. They are not, however, capable of noticing Moon Shadow just at the moment- for whatever reason. He passes right on by, the auroras flickering and shifting overhead.

As he draws nearer to the brazier the sock-smell grows bizarrely sweet, being still fresh from the fire; it smells of tangerines, and cedarwood, and other things the gadget hero probably can't identify (unless he really does have a metapower and it's the recognition of scent notes). The flame crackles and sizzles, but the sound isn't yet loud enough to block the sound of the great-coated man's voice.


.... speaking in Russian.