Participants:
| Scene Title | The Other Shoe |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Sex and the City, Russian style. |
| Date | Nov 25, 2009 (wee hours of the morning NYC time) |
Tea House
As they leave the house, Liz now dressed in the sturdy clothes she got for the Russian winter, the two young women find themselves alone. "Now that we're out of range of Katarina and Ivan…. tell me what you guys have dug up? I feel entirely useless out here so far," Elisabeth grins a bit as they walk. "It sounds like Cat and Teo might have some leads on what we're doing, but that briefing was not a bit helpful."
Back from the ironworks, Abigail settles in beside liz, feet crunching in the snow quietly. "The factory is still open, this factory that belongs to the family of a Grigor? Something like that. Anyways, he was one of the upper folks of Vanguard and he ran the russian division" Her hands are sunk in her pockets, pink hair flowing in waves of curls beneath the creamy knit touque. "He went from making beautiful pieces of armor, Teo said, to suddenly making just functional things. He just, at some point, joined the cause. We went out to the ironworks but didn't see much of anything. Except this memorial"
Elisabeth nods slightly. "Usually a shift like that is due to a crisis of faith. At best guess — and it's merely a guess at this point — the guy lost someone to an Evo, maybe? What was Vanguard's original charter. Were they actually anti-Evo or were they something else? It might be helpful to know that… if we don't already." She's sort of only been on the fringes of the information sharing thus far, though now that the shell-shock of being hauled halfway around the world is passing, Liz is getting down to business. "Is the memorial old enough to be what caused the guy's shift?"
"No" Most certainly not. "NO, it was only maybe a week at most? There weren't dead flowers anywhere. There were fresh flowers and there hadn't been too much snow on it. And the man who walked up to it, he…" Abigail shrugs her shoulders. "Whatever his relation to her, it was still on his face, the grief. He was shocked when I kneeled down and said a prayer for the woman. I'm hoping we can find out who the woman was. I think the man lived nearby too, cause he walked. There wasn't a car, we didn't see one. I feel sorry for him though, if it's a family member" She does. Saddens her to think of anyone loosing someone.
Looking thoughtful, Elisabeth says quietly, "I'm sure finding out who she was will be as simple as asking around, if it's that recent. That'll probably lead us right to your guy." It's basic police work in that regard. "It'll require someone who reads Russian to read the papers … or maybe Ivan or Katarina will know right off." She looks around as they walk through the town now, pointing toward a tea house. "Let's grab something warm to drink. I know Teo and Cat and Francois have been gathering information, so without knowing what all they have yet, I had a thought about the matter. They sent us here to look for one of the older strongholds, right? Are we thinking it's the ironworks plant, or do you know?" As the two woman walk toward the tea house, a group of older women, heads wrapped in scarves to protect from the wind, open the door ahead of them to also go into the establishment. They are all chuckling and chatting in Russian easily together. Coffee klatch anyone?
"Maybe, it's a foundry. But if it was, there'd be more than a guard with a big dog guarding it and an electrified fence" she points out. But yes, Liz and Abby are at the disadvantage for gathering information thanks to their inability to speak or read the language or cyrillic. "Tea'd be good" She's still walking stiffly, getting onto her knee's earlier at the memorial had only made her knee's protest. "The aching can go away any time. The third day is always the worst though" She assures herself. "Momma'd love to visit Russia I'm sure. Maybe if things go well and we're still here, we'll have time to sight see. St. petersburg and everything"
Elisabeth grins. "I'm taking advantage mostly of just walking around and getting the lay of the land. Since I can't help with the research much. And yeah, I wouldn't expect the foundry to be the place we're looking for, really — but hey, a girl can HOPE it would be that simple, right?" She grins cheekily at Abby, and walks in behind the grandmamas, holding the door for Abby. It is only as they get inside and pull their hats off that they once more get a lot of attention. Abby's hair has the babushkas all staring. The hostess stares too! And Elisabeth hovers uncertainly next to her friend. "Wow," she murmurs. "They're….. kinda obvious, aren't they?"
There's suddenly a slew of tongue clucking and tsking and Russian commentary going on around them as the older woman scold and surround them — it's a gentle kind of scolding, and if they were speaking English, Abby'd expect to be hearing 'oh what would your mama think of pink hair?' as they touch Abigail's colorful hair. The older women herd the two VERY OBVIOUS tourists toward their own set of tables — they are clearly regulars — and shuffle them into chairs. As if they are wayward children in need of mothering.
Maybe that dislike of touching isn't all that gone. Abigail's looking decidedly uncomfortable, uneasy and flinching when little old lady hands reach out to touch the pink locks. That she doesn't run away right this moment is because Liz is there and because her mother gave her the manners to not leave when obviously, they're being shown a kindness. "Liz"
Elisabeth is not terribly comfortable with this kind of overt mothering either, and she murmurs to Abby, "Hang in there. Wanna excuse ourselves?" She glances at her friend and grins slightly. "Maybe we ought to take you back to red or blonde for the duration here." She's not sure how to extricate them from the attention, looking wary as they're nudged this way and that. "Man… it's sorta like the Jewish grandmamas in New York," she murmurs.
Abigail's line of work doesn't put her into contact with Jewish mama's much either. "Maybe" is the quite murmured agreement as someone's hand hefts a curl and more clucking ensue's, pointing and shaking of head. She could use a rescue. Felix, Teo, Cat, Francois, anyone who knows Russian and how to say don't touch. But then again, that's what a dictionary is for and the candy haired woman is quickly sat in a seat while she digs out her dictionary to look up no touching please. "Just.. just have tea Liz, lets just have tea and get this over with" She'd rather be neck deep in vanguard with guns right now instead of neck deep in babushka's
"Yeah… tea. Sure." Elisabeth looks around a bit and since they're sitting with the older women, tea and cakes and assorted things are rapidly forthcoming! Hey, at least we don't have to work out how to order. She smiles her thanks, and although the women may seem a little overbearing, they do seem to understand they're making Abby uncomfortable. Once they're all settled at a table, they stop touching her quite as much, after a couple more grandmotherly pats and reassuring prattle on a couple of their parts. Then the discussion between the older women heats up — they are clearly a close-knit group. It's kind of amusing to watch.
What do you think they're talking about?" Abigail leans close to Liz, keeping her own voice low as she watches the russian version of old lady sex in the city happening before their eyes. Which one is the writer, which one is the nympho, etc etc. Abigail gives up on translation pages and just sits with her hands in her lap to let someone else serve the tea up. "Felix would be laughing right now. you know this right?"
Elisabeth giggles suddenly at that comment. "Yeah… he'd be sitting here having an absolute snicker-fit in the corner, I'm sure." She glances at Abby and comments softly, "I'm worried about him. A lot." She grimaces. "His… significant other sort of… gave him an ultimatum. Don't go to Russia or I'm gone." She looks at the other woman and sighs quietly, "I don't know how to comfort him more than I already am."
That's not good news. That was why she herself took the chicken shit way out and left a letter. She could see Flint doing that. Cups are making their way to in front of the women and all sorts of food shoved under their noses with chiding comments - in Russian of course - to the two women to eat, that they are far too skinny. Winter hardened hands pushing plates, making motions to eat at the both of them. Abigail follows, getting the gist of what is demanded and shoving a piece of pastry into her mouth and chewing furiously. "Just keep doing what you're doing and maybe.. maybe things will work out when he gets home"
"I hope so," Elisabeth says on a grimace. And then she's being pressed with tea and pastry and yummies. "Gawd, I love the blinis. Felix was right. This is amazing." She smiles at the woman across from her, and she watches their interactions intently. Because all in all, it's sort of comforting to see that some things are universal. Feminine friendships, anyone? She takes hold of one of the ladies' hands and squeezes, "Spaciba." Which brings a round of patting and chuckling to Elisabeth along with a rattling of Russian … what she can only assume is reassurance, and then they allow her once more to eat. Liz glances at Abby and murmurs, "So uhm…. Richard said the L word."
The L word. She's figured out what word that is. "Like, tacked onto the end of a sentance or by itself?" Abigail peers.
Glancing at her friend, Elisabeth admits sort of hesitantly, "Like…. by itself. As in … told me to be careful. He loves me. Talk to me later. And hung up on me before I could get my wits about me!" There's … confusion. A lot of it.
"About time" Muttered from Abigail before she takes another pastry under the watchful eyes of their hosts. She's eating, yes, she's too skinny, but she's eating and she's drinking the tea straight up with nothing else in it. "He loves you, anyone else can see it Liz. Accept it. He said it first, now you have to decide whether you say it back"
There's a soft laugh at that. "Well… I already all BUT told him," Elisabeth says quietly as she eats gratefully. The older women clearly can tell they're having some kind of talk about men or something because there are some knowing looks coming their way — and after all 'Felix' and 'Richard' are not exactly subtle. The older women natter among themselves, watching the two English-speakers with amused looks. Definitely too thin, one woman clearly thinks. When she realizes Liz likes the blinis, she piles more on the plate in front of the blonde. Elisabeth laughs and thanks her again, then saying to Abby more seriously, "It still doesn't mean what you think it means. And I have this… weird feeling in the pit of my stomach about it. Just… waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know? He loves me so it's bound to go poorly, right?" And therein lies the terror.
"Pessimist" That's the only word Liz is going to get in regards to it all. Sure, Abby waits for the other shoe to fall as well. All the time, but still. "You won't know unless you try Liz" SHe's pushing the blini's towards the other woman too, her own plate included as she's reaching for her wallet and trying to pick out the appropriate colored bills and offer it up to the nearest babushka.
There is another rounds of verbose tsking and tongue clucking as the women shove Abigail's money back to her, much discussion among them, and shooing motions. Elisabeth herself will finish everything on the plate in front of her and then she smiles at the women, patting her belly. "Spaciba, spaciba, babushka." She's learned enough to know that it will be taken, from her - a foreigner - as a gesture of respect at least. With a last swallow of her tea, she moves to stand with Abby so they can go back to walking. "Not a pessimist…. just…. boggled that he said it," Elisabeth admits as they step out of the storefront. "And who said I wouldn't try it? Damn, Abby… I think I made that decision…… back when I gave Richard a key and asked Norton to knock before he came into the apartment anymore." That was months ago now.
Not that Abigail had expected them to take it, but she had to try. She tucks away her money, gathering up her toque and with a bobbing of her head in a series of nods to the women and back out the door back to the cold air. "So then what's the issue? He said it. I don't know about you, but I was told that this might be a one way trip. So that means, that Richard probably knows and he's making sure that you know"
"Yeah… see?" Elisabeth grimaces slightly. "It feels…. like he's saying goodbye. And you wonder why I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop." She looks at Abby and says quietly, "I knew what this might cost me. If they'd asked me to go — if Cat had asked me to go… whatever, I would have volunteered. So it doesn't matter that they chucked me on a plane in cuffs, Abby. I was already here. So let's kick some serious ass out here, yeah?"