Who Needs a Dream? Who Needs Ambition?

Lionel made a tasking sound as he finally moved his dress shoe from Anatoly's back, moving to crotch beside his head instead, long overcoat falling around him. "Come now. Every man has something to say." He said in a mocking tone. "And from what Comrade Molokov has told me, you often have too much to say at the expense of your betters." He snorted softly and looked up at Molokov with an amused look. "No wonder he and my disobedient son are so close. They share that annoying trait."

His hand shot out and tangled in Anatoly's curls, pulling his head back and forcing him to meet his eyes. "But neither Lex, nor his pet farmboy freak, are here this time..." His smirk was chilling.