Volgin held his arm for some time before slowly lowering it, realizing what he had done, something usually only reserved for Raikov when the giant was coming to his senses after losing his temper.

Death and Hell did nothing to dull his temper.

The angered expression softened into something dull, a mutual remorsefulness. His shoulders, his aggressive posture relaxed.

"You're forgiven, Ivan."

Noting his bare hand, he stepped away from the doorway to search for his glove.