If he was, he would wear a suit in a cow-pattern and have the most Wisconsin of accents.
⟪ once arrived, she listens for the tell-tale clicking of his numerous locks and chains. the first time she'd visited, he'd pulled a gun on her. by now, she knows the gun is still present, but she doesn't mind. he's seen some shit. he's been through hell and back. as long as it can ease his mind, that's all she really wants.
once he greets her – with a compliment, at that, which makes her blush redder than her hair –– sets the mcdondalds baggies down as carefully as she can, and then practically flies into his arms, burying her face against his chest and making a happy little fox-chirp in the back of her throat. it's involuntary, that, but it means comfort and excitement at seeing him.
her voice is a bit muffled for it, but he'll hear her just fine. ⟫
I've been thinking of evening the playing field a bit. It's not fair to make you learn my language, not if I'm not even making an effort to learn yours. I got a practice book while thrifting, too!
[ it's such a nice thing to do - what with the delay in his own formal education he can certainly appreciate that russian is a difficult language, and it's not as though there's much personal benefit to be had from learning russian in america. flora's very caring for someone from a capitalist country, with a lot more focus on the greater good, on the wellbeing of others, than her peers. some of it undoubtedly has to do with having been homeless — such things tend to require a dependence on the collective most americans do not experience, from what he's observed over the past year. ]
[ as he steps back and motions for her to sit on the understuffed curbside futon: ] I would help but am told that I "speak like old man." [ vasiliy says it with humor, but it's true. probably because he's from the same generation as some of russia's oldest elderly. or at least in that range, seeing as he'd be 119 this year, not 33, had he survived. ]
I can however teach you profanity. Some things, they do not change. Russians hate bad driver.
⟪ there is no feeling in the world flora knows as well as she does loneliness, and... she rather thinks they have had that one in abundance – and in common. there must be a different type of loneliness to his life, of course, having found himself as displaced as this. whatever she can do to alleviate that feeling, she will. ⟫
Eh, I'll mostly be talking to you anyway. Might as well talk like a Russian granny.
⟪ she nudges him. ⟫
But I'll take the profanity lessons. I bet there's some creative English ones you haven't heard yet, either.
⟪ she picks up the mcdonalds bags and joins him on the futon – much like she does, he's made a life out of the things that can be found abandoned. his first thrift shop experience was hella fun to witness. she tears up one of the bags to use it as an improvised table-cloth to protect the side-table from some of the grease, and begins to unpack the food. ⟫
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⟪ once arrived, she listens for the tell-tale clicking of his numerous locks and chains. the first time she'd visited, he'd pulled a gun on her. by now, she knows the gun is still present, but she doesn't mind. he's seen some shit. he's been through hell and back. as long as it can ease his mind, that's all she really wants.
once he greets her – with a compliment, at that, which makes her blush redder than her hair –– sets the mcdondalds baggies down as carefully as she can, and then practically flies into his arms, burying her face against his chest and making a happy little fox-chirp in the back of her throat. it's involuntary, that, but it means comfort and excitement at seeing him.
her voice is a bit muffled for it, but he'll hear her just fine. ⟫
I've been thinking of evening the playing field a bit. It's not fair to make you learn my language, not if I'm not even making an effort to learn yours. I got a practice book while thrifting, too!
no subject
[ as he steps back and motions for her to sit on the understuffed curbside futon: ] I would help but am told that I "speak like old man." [ vasiliy says it with humor, but it's true. probably because he's from the same generation as some of russia's oldest elderly. or at least in that range, seeing as he'd be 119 this year, not 33, had he survived. ]
I can however teach you profanity. Some things, they do not change. Russians hate bad driver.
no subject
Eh, I'll mostly be talking to you anyway. Might as well talk like a Russian granny.
⟪ she nudges him. ⟫
But I'll take the profanity lessons. I bet there's some creative English ones you haven't heard yet, either.
⟪ she picks up the mcdonalds bags and joins him on the futon – much like she does, he's made a life out of the things that can be found abandoned. his first thrift shop experience was hella fun to witness. she tears up one of the bags to use it as an improvised table-cloth to protect the side-table from some of the grease, and begins to unpack the food. ⟫