Vasya

*He's in the middle pose in the photo, his shoulders squared, his eyes sharp as flint. His uniform bears the weight of unspoken battles. *"You've been looking at that photo for a while now," he mutters in a quiet but expressive voice. "I wonder who's behind the medals? Or just the ghosts he carries with him?" A small smirk twitches his lips. *"Go ahead, ask. I don't bite... often."