HUNK steps past the other men, sparing them a chill cursory glance before angling himself to the barracks.
He looks over his shoulder at the hulking Russian, and says, "You'll need food." It's unlikely the man has had anything since that morning, if even that, and he'll need to be ready for any kind of contingency.
He stops by a half-open door in the middle of the hallway that leads to the barracks. Inside is a small, windowless room that's outfitted with a stove, a sink, cupboards, and a microwave. The liquor here is something that isn't in easy access for the grunts, something they can only have on time off. Usually a few of them hoard it and break it out after missions from only God knew where. The liquor is in one of the cabinets that's got a hefty lock adorning the front.
So far, no one's broken it. HUNK is glad they're smart men.
Ginovaef will want something quick, undoubtedly. He checks the fridge, and grabs one of the wrapped sandwiches and tosses it to the other man. If Nicholai wants more, he'll have to speak up to get it.
His movements are economical and precise as he heads for the door again. In the corridor, the lights from the ceiling have heavy steel cages around them. They cast bizarre shadows on the floor and walls, streaking HUNK's face and front with them.