[ "Helvítis fokking andskotans rassgat! Komdu núna, þú helvítis fjandans fiskur, festu þig á krókinn, annars drulla ég þér í rassgatið og fórna þér til djöfulsins!" ]
"What the hell is happening?" Ezio groaned, turning his face into the pillow. Still the aggressive noise reached his ears.
From somehere close, a loud voice was blasting itself in a strange language.
Ezio glanced once at the desk, peeping from the small space of the pillow.
"Lower the volume, man," Ezio muttered, his voice rough with sleep.
Raviel clicked his tongue. "This language is tough to crack," he said casually.
"Still, you messed up my dream." Ezio spoke, rubbing his eyes.
"Huuuu..."
Ezio forced his eyes open, and saw the light streaming through the open window.
And on the desk...
Raviel sat, one leg hooked around the chair, his Arctic was hovering a holograph in the air. A video was playing — some guy out in heavy snow, cutting holes in ice and pulling out fish with his bare hands.
