(no subject)

[requirethree]

[Antonin's face is scarred, his frame still that of a large man who spent years malnourished. The ease he wears is superficial, and probably makes most observant people uneasy. His smile is roguish - almost charming, if you don't pay too much attention. His Russian accent is pronounced.]

So, my friends. Say you are given shore leave after very, very long time at sea. What do you do first?

Comments

[orionis]

I know what I would do first. I imagine you finally open the good vodka.

[requirethree]

Do you imply that I sometimes drink bad vodka?

[orionis]

On rare occasion. [ He must, right? ] If there is truly no other option. Such as on a long voyage perhaps?

[requirethree]

[The smile is sharp enough to draw blood.] Some bastard failed to bring any along. Made for thirsty trip.

[orionis]

I can only imagine. You have my sympathies.

[ Let's pretend for a moment that Bellatrix is capable of proper sympathy. ]

[requirethree]

Past now. [A verbal shrug.] What is it, that you do first?

[orionis]

Set something on fire.

[ Obviously. ]

[requirethree]

See, this is also good plan. If you ever want help...

[peratic]

[ Russians with wolf smiles and something unkind under the surface. Doesn't that bring back old memories. Gisela isn't going to show any unease, but she's briefly all-too aware of her own body language. ]

I've heard that sailors [ she doesn't think this dude is actually a sailor, of course ] tend to dream of what they miss most, while they're away. I guess I'd start there.

And maybe find some entertainment.

[requirethree]

A fine thought, but I tend to the bad dreams. Entertainment, though - this is good thought. What do you favor?

[peratic]

Music. [ Also literary pursuits, but music seems more immediately gratifying. ]

Something social, with new people. If you're the social sort, that is.

[requirethree]

I was. I liked parties. Pretty girls.

[It's idle; a tease, nothing more.]

I have lost the... [a vague gesture] I am not so easy at it, now.

[peratic]

[ Gisela doesn't take it as anything (she seldom does), inclining her head in understanding. ]

How long has it been? That is, if you don't mind my asking.

[ She has her suspicions about what 'at sea' might mean. But you never know, she isn't reading minds. ]

[requirethree]

[A grin.]

Long enough to stop counting.

[It's delivered like a joke, but he's a bit too unbalanced for it to entirely land that way.]

[peratic]

[ Something about that concerning, unbalanced note makes her — perhaps inexplicably — a touch sympathetic, if also more prone to careful observation. Despite his origin, which is not actually the guy's fault, she's sensitive to the difficulty of confinement. ]

And is this a temporary reprieve, or are you free for good? [ Or...not good, as his bearing sort of indicates. ]

[requirethree]

[The longer they talk, they more they've effectively abandoned the polite fiction of a 'voyage.' He shrugs.]

Not entirely up to me. I do not mean to go back.

[Then again, he'd meant to die before being taken in the first place.]

[peratic]

No, of course not.

I suppose you could do the sensible thing. Nest up, find a place to stay, a routine.

[requirethree]

That would, is true, be a different thing. [No one would be looking for Antonin to act sensibly.]

A place to stay, this is not so bad. I am not best, though, with routine.

[peratic]

No — and don't take this the wrong way, but you don't have the 'routine' sort of vibe.

[requirethree]

[He barks a laugh.]

No - no, not very. Even before. I am restless, I think, when I can see what comes next.