Misha had been pretty quiet over the past few days. He hadn't eaten much and he'd been sleeping a lot. Shock mostly, from his injuries, and from the stress. It would to that to a person if they weren't used to dealing with it. And, while Misha was a pretty tough guy, nothing like this had ever happened to him, he'd never been hurt seriously, and certinly never stranded on an island.
The sound of foot steps on the creaky bamboo floor woke Misha. His head was pounding in his skull and about to drive him mad. He sat up, seeing Sasha going down the hanging lader to the ground. Misha grabbed the gun he had kept hidden, and made sure it was out of sight under his shirt before he followed the pilot down the ladder. Sasha didn't seem to notice up until the sound of Misha's boots dropping the last foot to the ground.
Misha looked at him, unsure if he trusted the man, but at the same time, felt safer around him. Like this guy knew what the hell was going on and what to do. "Where are you going?" He asked, sleep still deepened his voice as his green eyes looked over the forrest floor. His native tongue slipping out some in his exhaustion.