Volgin's voice darkened, as he tilted his large head down at the fellow Communist. He did not feel that kick, really.

"This is a serious question." The fresh cigar bounced in his mouth as he spoke. "What time is it."

He was reaching for his own phone anyway, a thick, doubly reinforced and insulated thing custom-made to withstand the worst of his body's unpredictable currents. Not to mention accommodate his thick fingers. It was a very nice phone for what it was.