Red, Only a Lighter Shade of it.
WHO: Ivan and Emiliana
WHEN: August 30th, early morning
WHERE: The Coffee Shoppe
WHAT: A meeting between kindred spirits. Sort of. Well, maybe not.
Ivan: [The Russian is sitting placidly in an armchair near the large frontal window, sipping his increadibly sweet coffee when the tiny bell over the door rings. He sets his steaming cup down to address the woman with an awry wave, and retrieves his coffee to stand in line with her while she orders.]
Emiliana: [Appearing faintly disheveled from the power walk she had to partake in from her apartment to the coffee shop, the small woman paused briefly at the entrance, eyes lighting up in relief as she spotted the tall Russian attempting to get her attention.] Sorry for the, ah, wait. [She mumbled as soon as he had joined her in line] Though, you don't have to bother with this - I'm sure it won't take longer than ten minutes to get my order.
Ivan: [He shrugs, then feels around his waistline for the hem of his pockets, and slips them in] I don't mind.
Emiliana: [Stifling a yawn with a muttered 'excuse me,' she nods in response, opting to stay quiet as the line continues to move until she, finally, has her own cup of coffee in hand] You were by the window, no?
Ivan: [nods absentmindidly, the awkwardness of standing - towering - beside Emiliana in mute silence wearing off with a gesture of his chin toward the armchair from before; he strides over to the oddly patterned scarlet one and takes a seat with his right leg acrossed over his left] How have you been Emiliana?
Emiliana: [settling down across from him, she grips the cup of coffee briefly before loosening her hold] I've...[she pauses, struggling for a way to properly respond] I've been better. But I, eh, I can't complain. And yourself?
Ivan: [he seems a little taken aback by the question, but the burning cup in his hands quickly reminds him that this is not a session, and rather than getting paid, he lost six dollars and cents on a cup of oddly tasting coffee] I've been... well, I cannot complain either. [he then remedies his awkward reply with a sip of oddly tasting coffee]
Emiliana: [Eyebrow quirking at his reaction, she gives a small, bemused smile as she nods towards his drink] Tastes like crap, no? [She props her chin on top of the palm of her hand, absently musing if she should have gone with a cup of tea instead]
Ivan: I prefer tea. [and he places the half-drank cup onto the table between them, and occupies his hands by folding his arms over his chest] ...Americans are too fond of their sweets. I've never needed whipped cream on my coffee.
Emiliana: I don't mind either, really. I just prefer to make it on my own and without the added source of diabetes. [she takes a drink of her own coffee, nose wrinkling slightly in distaste] But I paid too much for this to go to waste. [she sighs] I prefer whipped cream and hot chocolate together, not coffee. But I think Americans, [she gives a small smile] are more fond of that garbage they call 'fast food' than anything else.
Ivan: [smiles a little at her statement, though it's presented more as a sneer] Never will I understand that... disgusting mutation of beef stuck between expired vegetables and strangely-colored sauces.
Emiliana: [smile still tugging at the corner of her lips, she shrugs] I prefer that more than the crap they try to sell off as "authentic" Mexican food. It's an insult, really.
Ivan: [the smile twists into something more genuine] Russian food here is "Vodka."
Emiliana: [she gives a quiet 'tut' of amusement] Communism and vodka - it fuels the Russian body and mind, no doubt. [she rolls her eyes again] I really don't understand some people.
Ivan: [draws his forefinger around the mouth of the cup] Ignorant is what they are. Foolish, ignorant people who assume that being born in the Soviet Union means I am red as my Uncle Stalin was.
Emiliana: I think just being Russian makes you Communist in this country. [She smiles dryly] It's in your blood, didn't you know? At least, that's what some people like to think.
Ivan: It is in my blood, but just that. The ideals are not in my head. I've lived longer in this country.
Emiliana: Mm, try telling that to those people, though. Lord knows I'm just about ready to give up on trying to talk to them. [She sighs and picks up her cup before pausing] Oh. It's cold. Well, there goes six dollars down the drain. Damn it.
Ivan: I believe the Americans call it "iced coffee". [he snorts a little at his own joke] And I understand your disdain for communicating with them.
Emiliana: [She stares before shaking her head in amusement] Funny. But what can you do? [pushes the cup away with her in disdain] How are things, by the way? With...your sister and whatnot.
Ivan: [his shoulders drop and he visibly relaxes, but not in expression, as he seems uncomfortable] Her birthday just passed. Everything is the same as always with her... nothing will ever change. [he peers up at his comrade] And... your brother? He moved, da?
Emiliana: [she offers a strained yet sympathetic smile] She's...Well, yes. [tensing up slightly at the mention of her brother, she nods slowly] He just up and left to do something stupid. Again. I have yet to tell our parents about it, either. I'm...not exactly looking forward to that conversation.
Ivan: [lowers his head to watch her fingernails scratch at the cardboard slip about the coffee cup] I'm terribly sorry... perhaps he will return to you one day.
Emiliana: Oh, he'll come back. When he's in trouble and needs me to lend him some money, that is. [she rolls her eyes before crossing her arms over her chest]
Ivan: Why do you lend him the money then? [he absentmididly drinks from his cup and wrinkles his nose after the liquid touches his lips]
Emiliana: I don't. But that doesn't stop him from asking. [she shrugs absently] I help him out if I can. But only because he's family.
Ivan: [tucks his stray bangs behind his ear] Understandable...
Emiliana: [she tilts her head to the side] You worked with Bonnefoy, no? I heard he, ah, left town, too.
Ivan: I can only imagine the smug look on his face when he hears that the restaurant almost burned down after his departure...
Emiliana: ...he's a smarmy bastard, what do you expect?
Ivan: [sighs and shucks a hand through his hair] He is not the worst person I know...
Emiliana: I...have to agree, really. He's not as bad as Vargas, anyway.
Ivan: [arches an eyebrow] Roma Vargas?
Emiliana: [she gives him a strained smile] Yes. That bastard.
Ivan: Ah. [rubs at his neck with his thumb] He... happens to be the other employer of my secretary.
Emiliana: He's the bane of my existence at the moment. [she chirps sarcastically] And secretary? [her brow furrows slightly] Do they happen to work at Dos Llamas or for Vargas personally?
Ivan: Personally, as far as my understanding goes. [his brow twitches slightly]
Emiliana: [she raises an eyebrow] Don't like him very much?
Ivan: Something like that... [throws a glance to the window to watch a passerby with an armful of shopping bags]
Emiliana: [leans back against her seat with a sigh] Well, sucks for your secretary. Vargas is a bastard through and through. [she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear] But as the French say, c'est la vie. Or however it goes. [she waves her hand dismissively]
Ivan: [he digs his elbow into the table and nests his cheek in his open palm] Something like that. But I am not as unfortunate as you to find him as a primary source of my problems.
Emiliana: He's my boss. [a cheeky grin followed by a roll of her eyes] He's not the only source of my problems and, really, I like to pretend he doesn't exist unless he drops by. Which, thankfully, isn't that often. [she takes hold of her cold cup of coffee once more, absently squeezing the cup briefly] Though, I'm not going to pry into your own source of problems, either.
Ivan: If memory serves, you and I have... [holds out his hands almost in a shrug while he searches for the right phrase] ...similar problems...
Emiliana: [she stares at him tiredly before propping her chin on top of her hand once more, leaning forward slightly] Do we now?
Ivan: [his smiles widens, turning into something more akin to an alligator's grin] A certain American.
Emiliana: [she grimaced in response] He's like a parasite, that one.
Ivan: [props himself up against the back of the chair and folds his hands in his lap] For lack of a more appropriate term.
Emiliana: Oh, I can think of many. But I'd rather avoid using too much vulgar language in public. [She flashes him a strained grin]
Ivan: He dated your brother, if I remember correctly...
Emiliana: [she stares at him blankly before laughing] Dated? No, no, no. He just slept with him, went to you, and made me look like the bad guy for wanting to protect my brother.
Ivan: Indeed. [fixates his gaze back on her, still with that ever-present smile] He's been doing a lot of that lately.
Emiliana: [fingers tapping against the worn wooden table, she shrugs] He's quite the charmer.
Ivan: Or so he would like to think. [fixes the cuff at the end of his button-down shirt]
Emiliana: He's delusional. [she examines her nails absently and sighs tiredly] I really do think he's going to request me as his Spanish tutor. Now I'm never going to get rid of him.
Ivan: [looks dejectedly over his shoulder at the street] 'Spanish Tutor' is a a title I would chose over 'Boyfriend' any day.
Emiliana: [She looks up as someone bumps into her chair, attempting to squeeze past their table before focusing her attention back on Ivan] You don't seem very fond of him or pleased to even be considered his boyfriend, so excuse me for asking but...why are you even associating yourself with him?
Ivan: [his smile fades and reshapes into something small and barely noticable] It was different back then, but now it's just a game of deception. It's nothing but a formal title we can use in place of names, without the comfort of knowing that right now he isn't with his lips pressed against anothers'.
Emiliana: [she remains quiet for a moment, unsure of how to respond as her eyes flicker to the large window beside them] A bit like mind games, then? [her fingertip drew circles into the table, absently slipping past a small dent there] That doesn't sound particularly healthy, really. [She pauses] But so long as you and Jones know what you're doing, there's nothing for me to say.
Ivan: I wouldn't expect you say anything, Emi. [he grins at her briefly]
Emiliana: I'm sure I could come up with something interesting to say if I had a few drinks in me. [she glances at the coffee] Preferably something stronger. But it's much too early for that.
Ivan: Mm. I highly doubt you would find such drinks in a place like this.
Emiliana: Haha, even if I wanted one, I shouldn't be drinking, anyway.
Ivan: And why's that?
Emiliana: I...[she falters briefly] I just haven't had alcohol since April and I'm not sure if I want to start that up again any time soon. Well. That, and I don't think I want to wake up hungover now that I have class and work every day.
Ivan: That's a shame... we will have to go drinking sometime.
Emiliana: [she grins slightly] Only if you want me to drink you under the table in public.
Ivan: Ah, but I will be the one drinking you under the table, ptenchik.
Emiliana: Do you really believe that, querido? [her grin widens]
Ivan: [folds his hands together and rests his chin upon them, leaning forward, assisted by the armrest] I know so.
Emiliana: I believe some would call that hubris. [she rests her cheek against her palm as she stares at him in amusement] Do you really want me to publically humilate you that badly?
Ivan: I can stomach whatever you throw at me, my dear. [smiles sweetly, almost forcingly so] and now that you've challenged me, we will have to set a date for this, da?
Emiliana: [she scoffs lightly] Don't underestimate me, querido. [she looks at him, smirking slightly] I think we do. [a pause] Perhaps not this week, though. I'd rather not be at a disadvantage just because I'm running a slight fever.
Ivan: Of course. [he rises from his chair and retrieves the half-consumed cup of coffee] You will need all of the advantages you can get.
Emiliana: Aren't you the cocky bastard. [she responds dryly before following suit] Just let me know when you're free, no? But now I do think it's time I make my way to work. [she extends her hand towards the Russian with a small grin] It was a pleasure.
Ivan: [He takes her hand firmly in his and shakes it] The pleasure was all mine, Emiliana. Be sure to get back to me on that little contest of ours~
Emiliana: [her grin widens once more as she takes a step back] Of course, of course. As if I'm going to back down, querido. But if you'll excuse me - [cheeky grin back in place, she turns after offering him a small wave as she makes her way towards the exit]
WHEN: August 30th, early morning
WHERE: The Coffee Shoppe
WHAT: A meeting between kindred spirits. Sort of. Well, maybe not.
Ivan: [The Russian is sitting placidly in an armchair near the large frontal window, sipping his increadibly sweet coffee when the tiny bell over the door rings. He sets his steaming cup down to address the woman with an awry wave, and retrieves his coffee to stand in line with her while she orders.]
Emiliana: [Appearing faintly disheveled from the power walk she had to partake in from her apartment to the coffee shop, the small woman paused briefly at the entrance, eyes lighting up in relief as she spotted the tall Russian attempting to get her attention.] Sorry for the, ah, wait. [She mumbled as soon as he had joined her in line] Though, you don't have to bother with this - I'm sure it won't take longer than ten minutes to get my order.
Ivan: [He shrugs, then feels around his waistline for the hem of his pockets, and slips them in] I don't mind.
Emiliana: [Stifling a yawn with a muttered 'excuse me,' she nods in response, opting to stay quiet as the line continues to move until she, finally, has her own cup of coffee in hand] You were by the window, no?
Ivan: [nods absentmindidly, the awkwardness of standing - towering - beside Emiliana in mute silence wearing off with a gesture of his chin toward the armchair from before; he strides over to the oddly patterned scarlet one and takes a seat with his right leg acrossed over his left] How have you been Emiliana?
Emiliana: [settling down across from him, she grips the cup of coffee briefly before loosening her hold] I've...[she pauses, struggling for a way to properly respond] I've been better. But I, eh, I can't complain. And yourself?
Ivan: [he seems a little taken aback by the question, but the burning cup in his hands quickly reminds him that this is not a session, and rather than getting paid, he lost six dollars and cents on a cup of oddly tasting coffee] I've been... well, I cannot complain either. [he then remedies his awkward reply with a sip of oddly tasting coffee]
Emiliana: [Eyebrow quirking at his reaction, she gives a small, bemused smile as she nods towards his drink] Tastes like crap, no? [She props her chin on top of the palm of her hand, absently musing if she should have gone with a cup of tea instead]
Ivan: I prefer tea. [and he places the half-drank cup onto the table between them, and occupies his hands by folding his arms over his chest] ...Americans are too fond of their sweets. I've never needed whipped cream on my coffee.
Emiliana: I don't mind either, really. I just prefer to make it on my own and without the added source of diabetes. [she takes a drink of her own coffee, nose wrinkling slightly in distaste] But I paid too much for this to go to waste. [she sighs] I prefer whipped cream and hot chocolate together, not coffee. But I think Americans, [she gives a small smile] are more fond of that garbage they call 'fast food' than anything else.
Ivan: [smiles a little at her statement, though it's presented more as a sneer] Never will I understand that... disgusting mutation of beef stuck between expired vegetables and strangely-colored sauces.
Emiliana: [smile still tugging at the corner of her lips, she shrugs] I prefer that more than the crap they try to sell off as "authentic" Mexican food. It's an insult, really.
Ivan: [the smile twists into something more genuine] Russian food here is "Vodka."
Emiliana: [she gives a quiet 'tut' of amusement] Communism and vodka - it fuels the Russian body and mind, no doubt. [she rolls her eyes again] I really don't understand some people.
Ivan: [draws his forefinger around the mouth of the cup] Ignorant is what they are. Foolish, ignorant people who assume that being born in the Soviet Union means I am red as my Uncle Stalin was.
Emiliana: I think just being Russian makes you Communist in this country. [She smiles dryly] It's in your blood, didn't you know? At least, that's what some people like to think.
Ivan: It is in my blood, but just that. The ideals are not in my head. I've lived longer in this country.
Emiliana: Mm, try telling that to those people, though. Lord knows I'm just about ready to give up on trying to talk to them. [She sighs and picks up her cup before pausing] Oh. It's cold. Well, there goes six dollars down the drain. Damn it.
Ivan: I believe the Americans call it "iced coffee". [he snorts a little at his own joke] And I understand your disdain for communicating with them.
Emiliana: [She stares before shaking her head in amusement] Funny. But what can you do? [pushes the cup away with her in disdain] How are things, by the way? With...your sister and whatnot.
Ivan: [his shoulders drop and he visibly relaxes, but not in expression, as he seems uncomfortable] Her birthday just passed. Everything is the same as always with her... nothing will ever change. [he peers up at his comrade] And... your brother? He moved, da?
Emiliana: [she offers a strained yet sympathetic smile] She's...Well, yes. [tensing up slightly at the mention of her brother, she nods slowly] He just up and left to do something stupid. Again. I have yet to tell our parents about it, either. I'm...not exactly looking forward to that conversation.
Ivan: [lowers his head to watch her fingernails scratch at the cardboard slip about the coffee cup] I'm terribly sorry... perhaps he will return to you one day.
Emiliana: Oh, he'll come back. When he's in trouble and needs me to lend him some money, that is. [she rolls her eyes before crossing her arms over her chest]
Ivan: Why do you lend him the money then? [he absentmididly drinks from his cup and wrinkles his nose after the liquid touches his lips]
Emiliana: I don't. But that doesn't stop him from asking. [she shrugs absently] I help him out if I can. But only because he's family.
Ivan: [tucks his stray bangs behind his ear] Understandable...
Emiliana: [she tilts her head to the side] You worked with Bonnefoy, no? I heard he, ah, left town, too.
Ivan: I can only imagine the smug look on his face when he hears that the restaurant almost burned down after his departure...
Emiliana: ...he's a smarmy bastard, what do you expect?
Ivan: [sighs and shucks a hand through his hair] He is not the worst person I know...
Emiliana: I...have to agree, really. He's not as bad as Vargas, anyway.
Ivan: [arches an eyebrow] Roma Vargas?
Emiliana: [she gives him a strained smile] Yes. That bastard.
Ivan: Ah. [rubs at his neck with his thumb] He... happens to be the other employer of my secretary.
Emiliana: He's the bane of my existence at the moment. [she chirps sarcastically] And secretary? [her brow furrows slightly] Do they happen to work at Dos Llamas or for Vargas personally?
Ivan: Personally, as far as my understanding goes. [his brow twitches slightly]
Emiliana: [she raises an eyebrow] Don't like him very much?
Ivan: Something like that... [throws a glance to the window to watch a passerby with an armful of shopping bags]
Emiliana: [leans back against her seat with a sigh] Well, sucks for your secretary. Vargas is a bastard through and through. [she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear] But as the French say, c'est la vie. Or however it goes. [she waves her hand dismissively]
Ivan: [he digs his elbow into the table and nests his cheek in his open palm] Something like that. But I am not as unfortunate as you to find him as a primary source of my problems.
Emiliana: He's my boss. [a cheeky grin followed by a roll of her eyes] He's not the only source of my problems and, really, I like to pretend he doesn't exist unless he drops by. Which, thankfully, isn't that often. [she takes hold of her cold cup of coffee once more, absently squeezing the cup briefly] Though, I'm not going to pry into your own source of problems, either.
Ivan: If memory serves, you and I have... [holds out his hands almost in a shrug while he searches for the right phrase] ...similar problems...
Emiliana: [she stares at him tiredly before propping her chin on top of her hand once more, leaning forward slightly] Do we now?
Ivan: [his smiles widens, turning into something more akin to an alligator's grin] A certain American.
Emiliana: [she grimaced in response] He's like a parasite, that one.
Ivan: [props himself up against the back of the chair and folds his hands in his lap] For lack of a more appropriate term.
Emiliana: Oh, I can think of many. But I'd rather avoid using too much vulgar language in public. [She flashes him a strained grin]
Ivan: He dated your brother, if I remember correctly...
Emiliana: [she stares at him blankly before laughing] Dated? No, no, no. He just slept with him, went to you, and made me look like the bad guy for wanting to protect my brother.
Ivan: Indeed. [fixates his gaze back on her, still with that ever-present smile] He's been doing a lot of that lately.
Emiliana: [fingers tapping against the worn wooden table, she shrugs] He's quite the charmer.
Ivan: Or so he would like to think. [fixes the cuff at the end of his button-down shirt]
Emiliana: He's delusional. [she examines her nails absently and sighs tiredly] I really do think he's going to request me as his Spanish tutor. Now I'm never going to get rid of him.
Ivan: [looks dejectedly over his shoulder at the street] 'Spanish Tutor' is a a title I would chose over 'Boyfriend' any day.
Emiliana: [She looks up as someone bumps into her chair, attempting to squeeze past their table before focusing her attention back on Ivan] You don't seem very fond of him or pleased to even be considered his boyfriend, so excuse me for asking but...why are you even associating yourself with him?
Ivan: [his smile fades and reshapes into something small and barely noticable] It was different back then, but now it's just a game of deception. It's nothing but a formal title we can use in place of names, without the comfort of knowing that right now he isn't with his lips pressed against anothers'.
Emiliana: [she remains quiet for a moment, unsure of how to respond as her eyes flicker to the large window beside them] A bit like mind games, then? [her fingertip drew circles into the table, absently slipping past a small dent there] That doesn't sound particularly healthy, really. [She pauses] But so long as you and Jones know what you're doing, there's nothing for me to say.
Ivan: I wouldn't expect you say anything, Emi. [he grins at her briefly]
Emiliana: I'm sure I could come up with something interesting to say if I had a few drinks in me. [she glances at the coffee] Preferably something stronger. But it's much too early for that.
Ivan: Mm. I highly doubt you would find such drinks in a place like this.
Emiliana: Haha, even if I wanted one, I shouldn't be drinking, anyway.
Ivan: And why's that?
Emiliana: I...[she falters briefly] I just haven't had alcohol since April and I'm not sure if I want to start that up again any time soon. Well. That, and I don't think I want to wake up hungover now that I have class and work every day.
Ivan: That's a shame... we will have to go drinking sometime.
Emiliana: [she grins slightly] Only if you want me to drink you under the table in public.
Ivan: Ah, but I will be the one drinking you under the table, ptenchik.
Emiliana: Do you really believe that, querido? [her grin widens]
Ivan: [folds his hands together and rests his chin upon them, leaning forward, assisted by the armrest] I know so.
Emiliana: I believe some would call that hubris. [she rests her cheek against her palm as she stares at him in amusement] Do you really want me to publically humilate you that badly?
Ivan: I can stomach whatever you throw at me, my dear. [smiles sweetly, almost forcingly so] and now that you've challenged me, we will have to set a date for this, da?
Emiliana: [she scoffs lightly] Don't underestimate me, querido. [she looks at him, smirking slightly] I think we do. [a pause] Perhaps not this week, though. I'd rather not be at a disadvantage just because I'm running a slight fever.
Ivan: Of course. [he rises from his chair and retrieves the half-consumed cup of coffee] You will need all of the advantages you can get.
Emiliana: Aren't you the cocky bastard. [she responds dryly before following suit] Just let me know when you're free, no? But now I do think it's time I make my way to work. [she extends her hand towards the Russian with a small grin] It was a pleasure.
Ivan: [He takes her hand firmly in his and shakes it] The pleasure was all mine, Emiliana. Be sure to get back to me on that little contest of ours~
Emiliana: [her grin widens once more as she takes a step back] Of course, of course. As if I'm going to back down, querido. But if you'll excuse me - [cheeky grin back in place, she turns after offering him a small wave as she makes her way towards the exit]