Kasimierz knew that he was at the end of the line. The sweaty man was ahead. This did not make him fearful, but it made him nervous: Here he was, on the precipice of something, with the Commissar's nod hanging like the Sword of Damocles over every action he might make during the coming minutes, perhaps hours. He hoped silently, inwardly, that some stroke of fate would make the line move for him, but aside from adjusting his posture to make plain his already obvious size and potentially make him more noticeable, he did not say anything. It is best for those who have waited to get their chance, whispered his internal monologue, The Commissar's gaze -or glare- will fall upon me eventually, I should not rush foolishly into it.
"Things will not calm down, Daniel Jackson. They will, in fact, calm up."
