Nicholai peered up and snarled. The question was completely out of place and he merely spat back; no one asked him if he was all right, that just wasn't how things were. And the little brat needed to know that, but now wasn't the time for reprimanding. Not when he had a bullet wound the size of a quarter in his hip.
"Отлично. Я имел повязки." Ginovaef snarled. Indeed, someone had fixed him up a few minutes ago and he had done the rest of the stitchings while his men flanked and covered the doors. That didn't mean that the wound didn't hurt a bit, but he was good at keeping a tight-knotted face, especially in front of people he was supposed to instill fear into. The boy just eyed him with a pair of eyes belonging to a school-boy and not a mercenary; Nicholai huffed and pointed a finger at him.
"Get to opening door. Have ammunition being brought to you." Broken English, but Nicholai was trying to learn.