He doesn't even realize the glass has shattered until he can feel liquid pouring down his wrist. He turns his head at this, examining the shards of glass that have now embedded themselves into his calloused palms. But he makes no move to remove them and makes no sound on the other line. Instead, he just stares, watching the blood patter down his arm and across the oak table.
Then, that grin comes back. That horrible, foul grin - it is a look of which few have been privy and it was the look that earned him his Jackal title.
"Снимите вас. Убейте вас. Закончите вас. Найдите лечение для отравы которая вы." He whispers now, his voice sounding more and more twisted. "Я не хочу ваше название; I do not want your name." It's almost inaudible with how softly Nicholai is speaking now. He raises his hand and slowly shakes it, sending shards of glass clattering onto the floor. Then, he laughs again, if not sickly. His blood-smeared hand finds solace in the short-cut spikes at the back of his head, but he continues to laugh. He doesn't know what else to do.
"Giving up, turning down. Do you really want this, Alexander? Not HUNK, not Mr. Death, not the man who took my comrade. But Alexander; you ask that man if this is what he wants when you see him next." There's another inhale and it lasts a good long while before Nicholai breathes again. Following it is a muffed thump and Ginovaef has his head hanging across the back of the couch and a foot up on the table.
"You've crossed the line; I will have no mercy when I take your life."