Go Get Your Gun (3a/?)
anonymous
November 30 2010, 04:35:54 UTC
sob I wanted to post this chapter quickly so I could apologise for the typos my phone's autocorrect caused last chapter, and yet it still took so long. I AM SORRY. But yes, in the previous chapter, it should be "getting themselves offed" instead of "getting themselves offer," and "a sharp memory" instead of "a Sharp memory." Now I know to do a final closer reading after I transfer the fic from my phone.
Anyway! The Im Yongmin mentioned in this chapter is North Korea! Also I am hoping that I got all the honorifics correct (and modes of address in general) since I... sort of got impatient to post instead of checking with a native speaker? >>; So if there are any errors, please point them out! Thank you. ♥
Ivan found there tended to be two types of people who walked into his Eden of sunflowers - the desperate, and those who shared his wish to spread happiness in the world. It was probable he wouldn't have even gotten those desperate few, were it not for the fact his elder sister had insisted he write on his window the names and prices of the flowers he more commonly sold. There was very little market for sunflowers, it sometimes seemed, with some weeks only the warm Italian around the corner buying any. Roses, lilies, orchids, and such - he loved them for the fact that they grew, but in his mind, none could ever compare to his heliotropic darlings.
(Someday, through sunflowers, he would unite the world in one big family of peace and warmth. It was his Dream, and though there were many things Ivan could disparage about the people whose country he had moved to, their ability to dream big and try for said dreams was not one of them.)
With the amount of time this man had been standing at his window, looking from his little price list to the explosion of sunflowers inside, and then back again, Ivan decided that the man must be one of the desperate. Regretful, for it probably meant one less in the crusade for happiness, but it was very entertaining in the meanwhile.
Closing time was soon, however, so perhaps it was about time to offer help.
He placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "I can assist you, yes? Before we close, even."
"Gah! Christ, I didn't even hear you! Are you like part-ninja or something?"
Ivan amended his earlier opinion. Desperate and foolish. "I am Russian, not a ninja."
"You can be both! ...or not, y'know." The man shrugged, taking a step back at the same time. It took willpower for him not to follow. "So what were you saying? Oh, some help, sure! But only because you offered and it'd be faster, not because I actually need it, you understand."
Ivan had many things he wished to say to that last statement, but in the end he kept silent, pasting on his best salesman smile - that too had been advice from Katyusha - as he waited for the man to elaborate.
The silence stretched. And stretched. And stretched.
"Umm..." The man shuffled, adjusting his collar with an awkward smile.
And perhaps he should take pity on this American. "Women usually like roses?" he offered.
"Oh! Right, I'll keep that in mind. Uhh, actually, I need flowers for a lady whose husband just, well... passed away. That says, 'Sorry he had to die,' or something, maybe." Fidgeting, and then blue eyes peered owlishly over glasses. "There are flowers like that, right? I mean, I didn't like the dude or anything, but his wife didn't seem all that bad. Anyways, a hero should always be considerate! ...Unless being considerate meant letting wrongs go un-righted."
"Are you trying to convince me?" he asked.
The man sputtered. "I- of course I'm a hero!"
At least the man calmed down when, in humouring him, he agreed. "Perhaps I could also say I am saving the world," he included as well, and if the man were a dog, Ivan suspected both ears would have been pricked with curiosity.
"Really? Are you a florist by day, and a secret agent of justice by night?"
Go Get Your Gun (3b/?)
anonymous
November 30 2010, 04:36:55 UTC
What a funny question. Well, even though he was not some secret agent, nor a ninja, flowers for someone's death, yes, he could do that. Moving back to his shop, he began putting together a bouquet, barely even thinking about it as he went. "I am not. And I think these flowers are suitable, yes? What name would you like on the card?"
"Oh yeah! Those look great. I'm Alfred, by the way. But don't put it on the card or anything; I don't think that'd go over well. Just wrap the flowers and I'll pay for them."
"Twenty five dollars."
He watched as Alfred danced around before finding and pulling out a battered old wallet. "Aaaand ten, twenty, twenty five! Here ya go." Alfred offered him the cash and an idiot smile. "So tell me about these plans of yours..." Leaned in, peered closely at his nametag. "Ivan!"
"Ah-"
"Wait, you're closing though, right? Listen, I want to hear what you have to say. How 'bout I drop by earlier tomorrow, and you can tell me about it? Who knows, I might even be able to help."
Alfred must have taken his silence as agreement, because the blonde happily grasped his hands and shook them. "Great, it's a date!" the man called, and then left in a whirlwind that left him just a little bit dazed.
A date? Ah. Hmm. Ivan aborted his belated wave goodbye, staring at his hand before pressing it against his chest. Beneath his palm, his heart thumped surprisingly fast.
He shook his head. His body's sudden strange symptoms were not important. It was time to go home to his sisters.
------
Honda Kiku barely even tensed when his apartment door slammed open any more. It was curious the things one could get used to, even such things as an old acquaintance turned friendly rival intruding upon his home. With a sigh, he removed his headphones and rested them next to his mouse; only when he shifted his gaze from the screen now did he realise how strained his eyes felt.
In the meanwhile, judging by the noises, Yongsu-san was invading his kitchen.
"Heeeey, you crazy hermit, guess what?" Cupboards squeaked open and banged shut in rapid succession. "Also, are you living off instant noodles again? I know they're delicious - they were invented in Korea, after all! - but that's really not good for you. Luckily," clinking sounds, and then the smell of something divine drifted over, "I brought food."
"You went over to Yao-san's," he stated.
Yongsu-san shrugged as he materialised in the entryway, balancing platters of Chinese and a notebook in his arms. "Well, you like his food, and yet you still can't bring yourself to visit him. I tell you, Wang Yao-hyung would forgive you if you'd just apologise. I'm pretty sure he already knows whenever I order this much that I'm visiting you, anyway."
"Your sister wouldn't forgive me," he pointed out. He stood to help carry the plates, and together they settled around his small coffee table.
"Did you actually apologise to her?" Yongsu-san jabbed a pair of chopsticks in his direction. "Either way, you hurt Yongminnie in far different ways than you did Wang Yao-hyung, and both bad. Don't try to moderate either transgression. Anyway, I know you regret it, but they don't. And like hell I'm telling them. I don't like you that much."
His words seemed choked in his throat. "Just... not yet."
Go Get Your Gun (3c/?)
anonymous
November 30 2010, 04:37:31 UTC
"Progress!" A wince flashed across his face as Yongsu-san clasped his shoulder far too familiarly from across the table. "Now! Guess what."
He let his silence answer for him. With pointed disinterest, he focused on his noodles, taking them strand by strand. Yongsu-san tended to answer faster when he didn't play the other man's games.
"...All right, fine, you stick in the mud. So! I'll tell you, because you are my buddy and esteemed coworker. Almost as esteemed as yours truly, in fact. Now, anyone who's not an idiot will already know that our old boss is dead. But I! Got to meet our new boss today. And I," Yongsu-san tapped at the notebook, "have notes."
Well, that was more interesting than he'd expected. He set aside his food to take the spiral, and turning to the latest marked page, he blinked at the sketch that greeted him. Given Yongsu-san's talent for art, it was probably fairly accurate. Underneath had been scrawled the name 'Alfred F. Jones.'
"He is... not from any of the other Families around here."
"Nope," Yongsu-san confirmed. "Totally new to the field. He seems decent though. But..."
Kiku sighed, knowing he would give in eventually, if he didn't now. "Very well, I will do a background check."
"Yes!" Yongsu-san fistpumped, then scooted over to his side of the table and threw an arm around his shoulder. "Now let me tell you about what he said today..."
Re: Go Get Your Gun (3c/?)
anonymous
December 28 2010, 11:48:09 UTC
Authornon here, and it's not, I promise! Things just got hectic at work what with winter break coming up, and I just. also kept rewriting the chapter because it was too boring. I'm hoping to use this week off to get the next chapter out. /o/
I doubt I'm abandoning it any time soon. (I have like. parts of it written up to after the big reveal and all; I just wish my brain would give me inspiration for this thing in ORDER. orz)
Anyway! The Im Yongmin mentioned in this chapter is North Korea! Also I am hoping that I got all the honorifics correct (and modes of address in general) since I... sort of got impatient to post instead of checking with a native speaker? >>; So if there are any errors, please point them out! Thank you. ♥
Ivan found there tended to be two types of people who walked into his Eden of sunflowers - the desperate, and those who shared his wish to spread happiness in the world. It was probable he wouldn't have even gotten those desperate few, were it not for the fact his elder sister had insisted he write on his window the names and prices of the flowers he more commonly sold. There was very little market for sunflowers, it sometimes seemed, with some weeks only the warm Italian around the corner buying any. Roses, lilies, orchids, and such - he loved them for the fact that they grew, but in his mind, none could ever compare to his heliotropic darlings.
(Someday, through sunflowers, he would unite the world in one big family of peace and warmth. It was his Dream, and though there were many things Ivan could disparage about the people whose country he had moved to, their ability to dream big and try for said dreams was not one of them.)
With the amount of time this man had been standing at his window, looking from his little price list to the explosion of sunflowers inside, and then back again, Ivan decided that the man must be one of the desperate. Regretful, for it probably meant one less in the crusade for happiness, but it was very entertaining in the meanwhile.
Closing time was soon, however, so perhaps it was about time to offer help.
He placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "I can assist you, yes? Before we close, even."
"Gah! Christ, I didn't even hear you! Are you like part-ninja or something?"
Ivan amended his earlier opinion. Desperate and foolish. "I am Russian, not a ninja."
"You can be both! ...or not, y'know." The man shrugged, taking a step back at the same time. It took willpower for him not to follow. "So what were you saying? Oh, some help, sure! But only because you offered and it'd be faster, not because I actually need it, you understand."
Ivan had many things he wished to say to that last statement, but in the end he kept silent, pasting on his best salesman smile - that too had been advice from Katyusha - as he waited for the man to elaborate.
The silence stretched. And stretched. And stretched.
"Umm..." The man shuffled, adjusting his collar with an awkward smile.
And perhaps he should take pity on this American. "Women usually like roses?" he offered.
"Oh! Right, I'll keep that in mind. Uhh, actually, I need flowers for a lady whose husband just, well... passed away. That says, 'Sorry he had to die,' or something, maybe." Fidgeting, and then blue eyes peered owlishly over glasses. "There are flowers like that, right? I mean, I didn't like the dude or anything, but his wife didn't seem all that bad. Anyways, a hero should always be considerate! ...Unless being considerate meant letting wrongs go un-righted."
"Are you trying to convince me?" he asked.
The man sputtered. "I- of course I'm a hero!"
At least the man calmed down when, in humouring him, he agreed. "Perhaps I could also say I am saving the world," he included as well, and if the man were a dog, Ivan suspected both ears would have been pricked with curiosity.
"Really? Are you a florist by day, and a secret agent of justice by night?"
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"Oh yeah! Those look great. I'm Alfred, by the way. But don't put it on the card or anything; I don't think that'd go over well. Just wrap the flowers and I'll pay for them."
"Twenty five dollars."
He watched as Alfred danced around before finding and pulling out a battered old wallet. "Aaaand ten, twenty, twenty five! Here ya go." Alfred offered him the cash and an idiot smile. "So tell me about these plans of yours..." Leaned in, peered closely at his nametag. "Ivan!"
"Ah-"
"Wait, you're closing though, right? Listen, I want to hear what you have to say. How 'bout I drop by earlier tomorrow, and you can tell me about it? Who knows, I might even be able to help."
Alfred must have taken his silence as agreement, because the blonde happily grasped his hands and shook them. "Great, it's a date!" the man called, and then left in a whirlwind that left him just a little bit dazed.
A date? Ah. Hmm. Ivan aborted his belated wave goodbye, staring at his hand before pressing it against his chest. Beneath his palm, his heart thumped surprisingly fast.
He shook his head. His body's sudden strange symptoms were not important. It was time to go home to his sisters.
------
Honda Kiku barely even tensed when his apartment door slammed open any more. It was curious the things one could get used to, even such things as an old acquaintance turned friendly rival intruding upon his home. With a sigh, he removed his headphones and rested them next to his mouse; only when he shifted his gaze from the screen now did he realise how strained his eyes felt.
In the meanwhile, judging by the noises, Yongsu-san was invading his kitchen.
"Heeeey, you crazy hermit, guess what?" Cupboards squeaked open and banged shut in rapid succession. "Also, are you living off instant noodles again? I know they're delicious - they were invented in Korea, after all! - but that's really not good for you. Luckily," clinking sounds, and then the smell of something divine drifted over, "I brought food."
"You went over to Yao-san's," he stated.
Yongsu-san shrugged as he materialised in the entryway, balancing platters of Chinese and a notebook in his arms. "Well, you like his food, and yet you still can't bring yourself to visit him. I tell you, Wang Yao-hyung would forgive you if you'd just apologise. I'm pretty sure he already knows whenever I order this much that I'm visiting you, anyway."
"Your sister wouldn't forgive me," he pointed out. He stood to help carry the plates, and together they settled around his small coffee table.
"Did you actually apologise to her?" Yongsu-san jabbed a pair of chopsticks in his direction. "Either way, you hurt Yongminnie in far different ways than you did Wang Yao-hyung, and both bad. Don't try to moderate either transgression. Anyway, I know you regret it, but they don't. And like hell I'm telling them. I don't like you that much."
His words seemed choked in his throat. "Just... not yet."
"Not yet what?" Yongsu-san blinked.
"I'll visit him some day. But not yet."
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He let his silence answer for him. With pointed disinterest, he focused on his noodles, taking them strand by strand. Yongsu-san tended to answer faster when he didn't play the other man's games.
"...All right, fine, you stick in the mud. So! I'll tell you, because you are my buddy and esteemed coworker. Almost as esteemed as yours truly, in fact. Now, anyone who's not an idiot will already know that our old boss is dead. But I! Got to meet our new boss today. And I," Yongsu-san tapped at the notebook, "have notes."
Well, that was more interesting than he'd expected. He set aside his food to take the spiral, and turning to the latest marked page, he blinked at the sketch that greeted him. Given Yongsu-san's talent for art, it was probably fairly accurate. Underneath had been scrawled the name 'Alfred F. Jones.'
"He is... not from any of the other Families around here."
"Nope," Yongsu-san confirmed. "Totally new to the field. He seems decent though. But..."
Kiku sighed, knowing he would give in eventually, if he didn't now. "Very well, I will do a background check."
"Yes!" Yongsu-san fistpumped, then scooted over to his side of the table and threw an arm around his shoulder. "Now let me tell you about what he said today..."
Reply
alfred seems to have everything so...together, like he has no doubts about anything going wrong. it's great. you're great.
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I doubt I'm abandoning it any time soon. (I have like. parts of it written up to after the big reveal and all; I just wish my brain would give me inspiration for this thing in ORDER. orz)
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