cymraeg

I walked through him and took a table near Cymraeg.

"If Cymraeg is a prisoner like the rest of us, who really runs the camp?"

"Just how does Cymraeg fit into the picture here?"

Cymraeg's expression indicated that I had departed from the script.

"If you invited me here to hear a political lecture, you're wasting your time, Cymraeg."

I found Cymraeg busy shouting a report into a dead comm.

Cymraeg leaned back, scanned me from under his scarred eyebrows.

I started toward the door and Cymraeg came up out of his chair and blocked me.

Mr. Cymraeg went along the line, carefully scrutinizing each man.

If Cymraeg was in residence, he was keeping to his quarters.

Cymraeg stopped every hour and allowed us to stretch our legs in the shimmering heat.

Cymraeg nodded, looking at me with a pitying expression.

"I've been watching how you handled things, Jonah," Cymraeg said.

Cymraeg ground out the words like a rock crusher grinding boulders into gravel.

I found a corner table in the mess hall and sipped a cold drink from Cymraeg's private bar stock.

"A smart boss-man like Cymraeg knows enough to discourage any rising young talent.

Toms mainly performs in his first language - Cymraeg (Welsh).

Welsh (Cymraeg) is the oldest language in Britain dating back possibly 4,000 years.

Cymraeg raised his eyebrows; the stranger frowned.

Cymraeg seemed to relax a trifle.

"We were dumped here," Cymraeg said tightly.

"Get out of my way, Cymraeg," I said.

"It's bad business," Heavy said, after I had told him the gist of my interview with Cymraeg.

The other was Cymraeg.

"Don't talk like a damned fool, Jonah," Cymraeg said.