So here's what you missed on Glee:
Puck and Santana have been stranded on an island that kind of reminds them of Lost, except without the cool polar bears and the smoke monster, and both of them are missing home and feeling way out of their league, even if neither will admit to it. (
"Not your type of party, is it?" "If I say no, you're going to
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Or so Kurt hoped. The entire situation would lose much of its magic if the singing which characters were capable of in musicals didn't extend to the flesh and blood which stood in front of him right then. It was his mind- surely, it'd be kind enough to go with his whims?
"Oh, I do, I used to follow your, ah, competitions," Kurt replied in an equally bright tone, stretching the truth a little. But it was true, after all, that he'd watched Anatoly sit down for a match on multiple occasions.
That they were performances of a musical... seemed to matter a little less.
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"You did? I am honored to hear this," he said, putting a hand to his heart. "I cannot imagine it was easy to do this considering the... feelings between our countries."
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"Well, I didn't watch them at the time," Kurt clarified with a tilt of his head. "I was a little young back in the Cold War days to really process chess, but even decades later there was still, ah, coverage that people could watch at will."
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"I suppose Trumper's games are studied as well, as perhaps as a sort of how not to behave?"
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All he could see himself doing was sidestepping the matter, then hoping that Anatoly wouldn't pry too far.
"Well... I mean, conduct is something that each person judges for his or herself," Kurt offered with a nervous smile and a shrug. "But you can't deny that he's still a pretty good chess player, right?"
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"He might have occasional flashes of brilliance," he railed on, gesticulating wildly. "I will even admit that he is a challenge for me at times. But chess... it is more than just a board of sixty-four squares and pieces facing down each other. It has a life, a history of its own and to fling all of that aside just for money as he has done is a disgrace - a complete and utter disgrace."
He stopped for a moment and ducked his head, feeling a little embarrassed. "Please forgive me, I did not not mean to go on so. You have studied my games then you know my... relationship with Trumper has not exactly been an easy one."
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"Ah... yes," he slowly nodded, pressing his lips together, slightly nervous as he tried to determine what he was supposed to say next. "Yes, I'm definitely familiar with the long-time rivalry, although of course I suppose I wear the lenses of someone a bit more removed. Someone in the audience, as it were. Though I think you'll find that in just about any field, there are those people whose primary aim is money. In principle, rather disappointing, but I can't say that they haven't each added their own little push to the world in turn."
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"Forgive me," Anatoly said humbly. "I did not mean to - what is that word? Vent. I did not mean to vent at you. He and I... the history has been difficult as you know. He is here as well, you see."
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If only because, well, it would be pretty hard to be angry with Adam Pascal's face, if any middlemanning was required.
"It's fine," he shook his head, waving a hand dismissively. "Trust me, I'm still in high school, the whole venting thing happens everywhere you turn and you kind of get used to it. And, for anyone who doesn't want to bend over at every negative emotion, you learn how to employ it as well. I know how cathartic it can be."
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