[Volgin glanced over at his lover (or the incarnation of his lover he seemed to come back to out of familiarity), raising a brow.]

Interesting.

Ivan, this might be another spawn of the American dog he talked about. [As one of the puppeteers guessed the Liquid convo took place before this.]

I should have looked at his eyes before I took them out.

[Crunch. Maybe there was something familiar in Volgin's current victim's voice, yet a differentiating note, but almost half a century in death smoothed his memory.

What were a few broken fingers to get his throat going?]