thanks so much!angledtwat777June 17 2009, 23:16:41 UTC
Chekov, was, in fact, actually in front of the biggest police station in all of London. The Metropolitan.
He was quite fortunate, actually, that Nicholas had decided to head on out after talking to a whack job with a love for italics. He didn't know who he was looking for, but he figured he would stand out, since the...he didn't even know his name. The...boy. Yes. The boy would recognize who he was.
He stood outside in a white polo and black slacks, looking about as though he was a lost tourist.
He'd thought highly of this kid right off the bat, actually. He seemed to be the most sane of all of them. And considering he knew very little about Star Trek, he had no material to judge him on.
"In a puff of smoke," Nicholas repeated in disbelief, face growing stern as though he was interviewing a suspect or chasing a criminal down the road. But, really, it was his usual face. The man was serious beyond comparison and really didn't know how to let loose or properly appreciate a joke.
Which Janine faulted him for.
He pulled out his keys to a rather posh apartment, beckoning the young man to enter in.
“That is what I said,” Chekov said, taking the other’s serious demeanor in stride. He did regularly speak with McCoy and Spock after all, this was nothing he couldn’t handle. “Poof, blue smoke. Even if she is not a goddess, she still must be very powerful.”
Chekov moved inside, lingering near the door for Nicholas to finish up and instruct him on where to go. It was a nice place, he noted, looking the apartment over. It was like something from a history class. Not that Chekov had ever been particularly good at history, but he could remember the pictures well enough.
Nicholas' flat was impeccably clean and organized. The television was a large plasma screen kind that didn't look like it got used very often. Next to it was a rack of very few DVDs that didn't look particularly used, either. There was a nice, red couch against the wall and a beige armchair, a coffee table with a a few magazines neatly stacked on it, and a stand next to the armchair with doilies placed on it.
Nicholas moved into the apartment, placing his keys on a little hook hanging next to the door, and immediately opened the window's blinds, flooding the room with light. He flicked on two lamps and stood inside, looking around.
"This is my place," he said flatly. "Are you hungry?"
Chekov raised a brow at the tone, not entirely sure what to make of it. Cultural differences, he supposed, but shouldn’t one be proud of where they live? Maybe even a little excited?
“Niet, thank you, I am fine,” he chirped, smiling at the offer. He stepped further in, still not sure what to do with himself bet refusing to linger near the door like he was ready to bolt. The light from the window was warm. Sunshine, not artificial light. For all he loved the Enterprise, there was nothing like real sunshine.
"A drink?" he offered, trying again. "Nice?" he asked after a moment, looking at the kid as if he had sprouted two heads. Nice? "My fiance doesn't particularly like it, but we both work for the service and, well, there's not all that much money it. It's all we can afford at this juncture."
He sighed, running a hand through what little hair he had. "Kermit the Frog, right," he mumbled, going to the DVD rack. He looked them over, tossing the boy another glance. "What's a starship like? To live on, I mean."
Chekov tried not to smile at the baffled look. He really, really tried, but it was mostly in vain. “She should see the Academy’s dorms, then she would think this much more than nice too,” he informed brightly. Chekov bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. Keeping still had always been a bit of a problem when he wasn’t focused on work. “The service? You mean she is a police officer as well?”
Chekov watched Nicholas move about, biting his lip in contemplation when he was asked about the starship.
“Interesting,” was his immediate response, but his brow furrowed enough that is was clear he was rolling a longer answer around in his head. “Quiet,” he added, “and…peaceful, I think. Still very much like the Academy, but less stressful.”
Well, damn. Here he was, trying to play the part of a host, and the boy didn't want anything. He wasn't about to ask again, either. Nicholas listened, he got his answers, he got the facts, he went to the next point. "She's not a police officer," he replied after a moment, bringing up the set of DVDs to hand to the Russian. "She's a CSI. Forensic investigator. They deal with finding fingerprints, tire tracks, doing things in the lab. Scientific work. You need an excellent mind for it."
He stood there. Awkwardly. It wasn't often he was social. It wasn't often he was just speaking to another person in a social setting.
“I suppose you would, yes,” Chekov agreed easily. He took the DVD set with a nod of thanks, muttering a soft “Spasiba,” followed immediately by the English equivalent. The bright characters on the front of the box in his hands seemed a sharp contrast to Nicholas’ behavior. It was interesting.
“Oh! Sorry, the Starfleet Academy.” Chekov grinned, no less awkward but more than willing to make up for it with his enthusiasm. The tactic had served him well so far. “You must graduate before you are allowed on a starship. They want only the best.”
"Police officers have an academy as well," he said, lifting an eyebrow. "Riot control, pacification acts, field exercises...lots of testing to get through, written exams, books to read..." He trailed off, thinking of the old days when he was just a little kid on Uncle Derek's pedal car, riding around the neighbourhood and getting smashed into pieces for arresting kids twice his size and age.
"What sort of processes did you have to go through? What, exactly, is it that you do, Pavel?"
Nicholas’ classes certainly sounded far more adventurous than any of Chekov’s classes had. Transporter Theory was only exciting if you were speaking with someone who understood what all those numbers and signs translated to in real life. Not many people did, as Chekov had learned.
“There were still many books, and tests, but many more simulations. Theoretical navigation, stellar cartography, advance theoretical physics, and lots of general courses. Starfleet wants everyone well rounded.” He shrugged. “I am the ship’s navigator.”
"You're a pilot, then? Or do you give and read charts for directions?" he asked, actually curious this time around. He may as well make an effort to be pleasant to the boy. After all, he had a feeling hops might not have been the most happy of experiences. But that was just a hunch.
Curiosity was like blood in the water. Chekov didn't always know what to say, but as long as someone was willing to listen the he was usually willing to talk.
“Sulu is the pilot. I merely chart our course so Sulu does not get us caught in some star’s gravitational pull. Not that he would, but it is better if he focuses on one thing, yes? The captain chooses all our destinations though.”
Chekov tried to make a gesture to match the last bit of his sentence, but was hindered by the box set. “But I also chart planets and stars in previously unexplored parts of space. It is not quite running down criminals, but I enjoy it."
Nicholas listened, trying to understand what this kid was talking about...physics, cartography, maps, stars, gravitational pulls, all sorts of scientific things Janine would probably understand much more easily than Nicholas ever would.
Not that he was incapable of understanding this, just that it was all so overwhelming. Starship, Star Trek, looking like some other man, science, things he wasn't all that great at. He was more into social science than anything else.
"You must be very intelligent then," he said after a moment. It wasn't meant to be a compliment, though that's what it was most likely going to be taken as. It was more of a fact than anything else. This kid had to have a good head on his shoulders to ever deal with anything scientific to that degree. At least, in Nicholas' mind, he had to.
He was quite fortunate, actually, that Nicholas had decided to head on out after talking to a whack job with a love for italics. He didn't know who he was looking for, but he figured he would stand out, since the...he didn't even know his name. The...boy. Yes. The boy would recognize who he was.
He stood outside in a white polo and black slacks, looking about as though he was a lost tourist.
He'd thought highly of this kid right off the bat, actually. He seemed to be the most sane of all of them. And considering he knew very little about Star Trek, he had no material to judge him on.
Refreshing.
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Which Janine faulted him for.
He pulled out his keys to a rather posh apartment, beckoning the young man to enter in.
Reply
Chekov moved inside, lingering near the door for Nicholas to finish up and instruct him on where to go. It was a nice place, he noted, looking the apartment over. It was like something from a history class. Not that Chekov had ever been particularly good at history, but he could remember the pictures well enough.
Reply
Nicholas moved into the apartment, placing his keys on a little hook hanging next to the door, and immediately opened the window's blinds, flooding the room with light. He flicked on two lamps and stood inside, looking around.
"This is my place," he said flatly. "Are you hungry?"
Reply
“Niet, thank you, I am fine,” he chirped, smiling at the offer. He stepped further in, still not sure what to do with himself bet refusing to linger near the door like he was ready to bolt. The light from the window was warm. Sunshine, not artificial light. For all he loved the Enterprise, there was nothing like real sunshine.
“It is nice. Have you lived here long?”
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He sighed, running a hand through what little hair he had. "Kermit the Frog, right," he mumbled, going to the DVD rack. He looked them over, tossing the boy another glance. "What's a starship like? To live on, I mean."
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Chekov tried not to smile at the baffled look. He really, really tried, but it was mostly in vain. “She should see the Academy’s dorms, then she would think this much more than nice too,” he informed brightly. Chekov bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. Keeping still had always been a bit of a problem when he wasn’t focused on work. “The service? You mean she is a police officer as well?”
Chekov watched Nicholas move about, biting his lip in contemplation when he was asked about the starship.
“Interesting,” was his immediate response, but his brow furrowed enough that is was clear he was rolling a longer answer around in his head. “Quiet,” he added, “and…peaceful, I think. Still very much like the Academy, but less stressful.”
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He stood there. Awkwardly. It wasn't often he was social. It wasn't often he was just speaking to another person in a social setting.
"The Academy?"
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“Oh! Sorry, the Starfleet Academy.” Chekov grinned, no less awkward but more than willing to make up for it with his enthusiasm. The tactic had served him well so far. “You must graduate before you are allowed on a starship. They want only the best.”
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"What sort of processes did you have to go through? What, exactly, is it that you do, Pavel?"
Reply
“There were still many books, and tests, but many more simulations. Theoretical navigation, stellar cartography, advance theoretical physics, and lots of general courses. Starfleet wants everyone well rounded.” He shrugged. “I am the ship’s navigator.”
Reply
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“Sulu is the pilot. I merely chart our course so Sulu does not get us caught in some star’s gravitational pull. Not that he would, but it is better if he focuses on one thing, yes? The captain chooses all our destinations though.”
Chekov tried to make a gesture to match the last bit of his sentence, but was hindered by the box set. “But I also chart planets and stars in previously unexplored parts of space. It is not quite running down criminals, but I enjoy it."
Reply
Not that he was incapable of understanding this, just that it was all so overwhelming. Starship, Star Trek, looking like some other man, science, things he wasn't all that great at. He was more into social science than anything else.
"You must be very intelligent then," he said after a moment. It wasn't meant to be a compliment, though that's what it was most likely going to be taken as. It was more of a fact than anything else. This kid had to have a good head on his shoulders to ever deal with anything scientific to that degree. At least, in Nicholas' mind, he had to.
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