Defection AU log 2

itsAlana08/16/2018
Pavel catches the look, and laughs, letting go of the pump handle with one hand to ruffle Artyom's hair. "Don't flatter him too much, blin, or he might follow you home like a puppy," he jokes to the women, and they laugh too.

"If he keeps playing like that, he's welcome to," the more talkative woman says, and gives Artyom a wink, earning herself a smack on the arm from gun-laden Katya. "Will we be seeing you in Theatre after this?"

Pavel's smile freezes up for a moment, and then he chuckles, trying very hard not to think about what happened last time they were in Theater. "You think he has the talent to get up onstage? What do you think, priyatel, you ready for stardom?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/16/2018
Artyom only grins further at the teasing and the ruffle to his hair, earning Pavel a soft chuckle in reply. But then he receives an entire flort from one of the ladies, earning *her* a soft blush, his pale olive cheeks turning a bit pink as Artyom bashfully turns his eyes away, rubbing at the back of his neck, and trying not to think of the fact that there's already a woman he's married to and fathered a child with.

But then she brings up Theatre, the idea of Artyom going on stage, and he freezes- and he notices the way Pavel does, too, if only for a second or two, before he easily keeps up the banter like it's nothing- but even Pavel knows it's not nothing. Artyom, with a clutch of cold hurt and guilt both curling around his core, laughs a little nervously, and tries to put the old aches aside- tries to disassociate the wonderful Bolshoi from betrayal and pain, and instead take the compliments and the suggestion of trying to be the on onstage, rather than only watching. He blushes further, and makes sheepishly noncommittal noises, strumming a little at his guitar.

Honestly, if he could get over what Theatre now represents to him, it would be an amazing opportunity to be allowed to play for a real audience, on a real stage, rather than just a ragtag group of people at his home station around a barrel fire, or a gaggle of rangers in the mess hall. He looks back at Pavel with a small smile, only slightly forced and with a mess of complicated emotions behind it. Hurt and ache, hope and longing, exhaustion and tired acceptance, guilt and anger, seeking approval and recompense all at once.

itsAlana08/16/2018
Pavel gives Artyom a complicated little smile back, the new crease between his eyebrows deepening, and tells the women, "If he ends up hitting it big, I'll make sure to get you two tickets, yeah?" with a bright tone and a big wink. The conversation settles after that, and it's only a few more rotations of laboring over the handcart's lever before they start slowing at the next station, Katya already gathering her things and hopping out of the car before it stops.

"You've been good company," the talkative woman says, warmly, "if you're ever in the station, you should come by for drinks, yeah? Both of you."

"Ahh, blin, we'll see, yeah? An officer's work is never done," Pavel says in reply. "But maybe Artyom can come visit sometime! I wouldn't want to hog all his musical talent, haha..."

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/16/2018
Maybe someday Artyom can think of or do these things without also thinking of the pains that go with them. Maybe. Maybe with a lot of denial and alcohol, or maybe even the dulling of time if he's really lucky. But wasn't he just escaping from a pit of denial? Or maybe it's different when it's trying to get over the hurts Pavel made, added with the disgust and self-hatred of his own treason.

The nice women set about to leave at their stop, and Artyom gives them a genuinely friendly wave farewell, and a small smile. Maybe he could play more often at least, he thinks, sooth his own aches with the salve of music, and provide it to those around him in turn. Wouldn't that be nice? Ahhh, but now Artyom has no excuse to not take a turn at the handcart when it's time for them to take off once more. With a sigh, he sets aside his guitar, motioning for Pavel to take a break so Artyom can take over once they're ready to go. He doesn't try to meet his friend's eyes at the moment.

itsAlana08/16/2018
He slides aside, and picks up the guitar, because it's there, something to play with while Artyom takes his turn; he doesn't know how to play, but he can pluck strings, and put his fingers on the frets, and fail to make anything particularly musical-- but it's something to fill the air, even if he admits, a few minutes down the dark tunnel and in the light of the handcar's lamp, "Blyat, I don't know how to play this thing. You really are talented, Artyom."

His voice is soft, and he glances up at Artyom , pale eyes catching the light, the two of them alone for the time being. He doesn't mention the Theater, or what happened there... just... tells Artyom he's talented. Which is true!

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/16/2018
Artyom finally lifts his eyes to Pavel to give him a slightly wary look- play with his guitar, fine, but treat it nicely, dammit- as he pumps the lever, and otherwise leaves it be as Pavel plinks experimentally away. The comment, though, earns a breath of a half-laugh from Artyom, and brings a slight pinkness to his cheeks (aside from the growing pink of exertion). He glances to Pavel again as he works, keeping his breathing even and deep for the exercise, and despite the mild distraction of powering the handcart, he looks bashful and flattered.

itsAlana08/17/2018
Pavel answers the laugh with a smile, and relaxes a little, idly strumming at the strings. "Maybe you could teach me a little, yeah? We could, we could-- we could hang out when we're not working, and you could show me how to play music-- I mean, on something other than a tape deck..." He'd like that, he thinks, he'd like to mend bridges with Artyom and spend time with him and learn how to play guitar-- carry something new from Artyom into his life, something that's better than the awful things he'd done before, something that they can share without hurt.

He'd like them to be friends, again, for real, without betrayal lurking in their future, even if it'll always be in their past. It's the least he can do, for this guy he liked and hurt anyways, who saved him over and over, even when he didn't know it...

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/17/2018
Artyom falters on the lever for a moment, and then... lets out a sheepish chuckle, his face feeling warm. He... He would like that, he thinks. That same swirling sense of disgust, at wondering what is wrong with him, sears his insides, because aside it he feels so much warmth at Pavel's suggestion, his first response such a rush of hope and excitement and desire and joy. What is wrong with him, why is he like this? Why is he so obsessed, so desperate for Pavel's company and affection, that the mere prospect of it fills him with such utter joy, displacing the anger and wariness he should rightfully be feeling, but really isn't?

But maybe, the hopeful, desperate, eager, longing part of him says, maybe this is just how Pavel tries to work through wrongs, maybe through kindness and bonding is how he replaces and fixes the hurts between them. It's plausible. But so is the idea that Pavel just wants to sweep it under the rug entirely. But Artyom... wants to hope Pavel is better than that. Can't he let himself hope, when all else he has left is guilt and despair?

He smiles at Pavel as he returns to his rhythm for the handcart, and nods, face warm. He'd like that, he really would. He'd be happy to teach Pavel to play guitar, and anything else.

itsAlana08/17/2018
Pavel lets the conversation drop for a while, lets the bad moment where the woman in all innocence mentioned the Theater pass, filling the air with tuneless guitar plucking; then he waves for Artyom to sit down, and takes his place at the lever, and starts up a chatter, about the other officers they'll be meeting--  he passes on friendly gossip, and not coincidentally lets Artyom know their names, how stuffy or relaxed they're likely to be, and who he should watch out for. "None of them will recognize your name or face," he mentions in there, which probably will let Artyom know, too, that Pavel hasn't been... warning people about this sneaky Ranger he'd sold out, that knowledge of Artyom's actions against the Red Line might well have died with Moskvin and Korbut.

It's, again, a few rotations of working the hand cart before they reach Lubyanka, which seems to have a little stricter security until Pavel waves his credentials and officer's pips, and he apologizes to Artyom, "It's on foot between here and Armory, I'm afraid, but it's not that long a walk at least-- we've had worse walks together, yeah?" as he shoulders half of Artyom's packs. "You wanna stop for a bite to eat and drink, or just keep going?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/17/2018
Artyom could have gone a while longer, really, even if his body is still full of exhaustion from his long, laden trip from Exhibition, and wearier still from his poor existence before that, despite the two bouts of sleep and three meals he's already had. He's only had one turn at the lever, and Pavel already several- but, well, he'll take his break, just a bit reluctantly out of pride, and takes his seat again.

He takes up his guitar once more as Pavel chatters, strumming a mostly aimless, quiet tune in place of Pavel's exploratory plucking as the other man fills the rest of the air with talk. He appreciates Pavel's careful and clever slippage of the officers names and personalities- Pavel is always smarter than he lets on, isn't he, and Artyom hadn't figured that out quite quickly enough before. He's so unassuming, that friendly and goofy personality as real as it is a cover for his more subtle thoughts and workings. It's useful when it's on his side, and easy to respect Pavel for his smarts and cleverness, a kind Artyom could never pull off. But he's known what it's like when it's not, too.

He nods thankfully, though, at Pavel reassuring him that he probably won't be recognized, at least not by these officers, and the more subtle reassurance that Pavel hasn't likely been spreading dirt about him. They trade places a few more times before finally arriving at their stop- Lubyanka, the station connected to Armory next door, a place Artyom knows well enough, though it's been the better part of two years now. While Pavel waves his authority around, Artyom fastens his guitar to his backpack again, pulling it onto his shoulders with a grunt and tugging his other bags onto the platform.

"Mh." He replies, thankfully, as Pavel takes up the other half of the luggage, and sends a weary halfsmile to Pavel, shaking his head. Nah, he'd rather just get this leg of the journey over with, and meet with Pavel's fellow officers. Though, despite Pavel's reassurances, the prospect has him slightly nervous. What if they wonder too much, ask too many questions...? But Pavel is a fast thinker, he's learned, with a mind ready with excuses and stories and an unflappable charm and easygoingness that makes you think nothing could be wrong.

itsAlana08/17/2018
Pavel doesn't let his own concerns slip through, not in the station, but inside his head he's already planning how things should, maybe, go-- he can tell the officers that Artyom's a loyal contact, he's saved Pavel's life more times than Pavel can count, things finally got too hot for him and he's come to join his friends, and all of that's true enough to stay unquestioned, he hopes. He might even let them know that he's planning on having Artyom help him with his paperwork-- the ones who've had to deal with him being bad at it will love that, he's sure, it'll make it easy for them to accept Artyom as someone that'll make *their* lives easier, too...

The walk through Lubyanka is short, just a few minutes, and then they're slipping back out into the tunnels, the soldiers stationed on the other end giving Artyom and Pavel helmets with headlamps and a quiet warning that there's been some spider problems along the way. "Sukaaa, I hate those motherfuckers," Pavel complains as they walk away from the closing gate behind them, and nudges Artyom's side. "You remember how to get them to fuck off, right, Tyomik?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/17/2018
Artyom goes quiet through their short trip through Lubyanka station, not that he'd have much to say otherwise. But his mind is a bit busy with possibilities, a small part of him cursing himself out for laying all his trust on Pavel once again, fully depending on him to keep Artyom safe, give him a place, keep others from figuring out who he is, who he's been. Pavel is quiet too, though, and Artyom has a feeling he's thinking of similar things.

They're through pretty quickly, though, and given a pair of old dinged up helmets with lamps. He'd had a headlight of his own, actually, but it was in one of the zipped up pockets of his bag, so he's thankful. Artyom is hardly wasting any time hooking his up to his hand-battery he keeps on hand, reachable from his pack, giving the lever a few pumps to make his light shine bright. He smiles knowingly up at Pavel- yes, of course he remembers. How could he forget? The battery and its wires are returned to their place, and instead, Artyom's reaching into his clothing- pulling out a previously hidden handgun, and an all-too-familiar trench knife. He nods, ready to continue.

itsAlana08/17/2018
Pavel smiles back, and says, "Good, good, let's give those fuckers some hell if we see them--" as Artyom powers up his headlamp, and then his eyes catch on the trench knife. Is that--?

No, that's a silly thing to wonder, why would Artyom keep a memento from the man who betrayed him, after all these months? It's not like trench knives are hard to find in the Metro, or the design of that one uncommon... he slips his mind past it, and pats Artyom's shoulder, getting his own gun out as they leave behind the light of the station. "-- I'm not, blyat, not real interested in being someone's lunch today, you know?" he continues, as if he'd never paused, and laughs, lowly, taking the lead as they pass through the tunnel.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/17/2018
Artyom replies with a chuckle and full agreement, not really noticing that pause Pavel had taken- honestly, it often slips his mind that the knife he carries is one that Pavel had given him, until he thinks on it purposefully, so it doesn't even occur to him that Pavel might notice. Maybe it could be brought up later. Instead, he follows Pavel closely, often checking behind them, waving his light around in case something is trying to sneaky skitter in the dark.

If they come across any webs, Artyom, just like before if Pavel ever noticed, makes a point of flicking out his bullet lighter to burn them away, usually with a crinkle to his nose and a sneer of disgust. SOMEone doesn't like spiderbugs!! But hey, these two stations are closely connected, it shouldn't be a long trip, and maybe it'll be an uneventful one. Or maybe they'll be ambushed by six spiderbugs at the last couple yards and have to save each other like old times, who knows.

itsAlana08/17/2018
Or maybe just one-- it's almost pathetic, a half-grown bug skittering into the tunnel from a web-clogged crack in the wall and hissing in surprise when it encounters light, skittering back into the darkness ahead of them as Pavel points his headlamp at it. "Artyom," he says, raising his pistol to take aim at the bug ahead of them, "you wanna try setting that hole in the wall on fire? I bet that's how they've been getting in--" and he takes a shot, the bullet slicing into the bug's carapace and making it hiss with anger, almost rushing into the light of his headlamp before skittering back again.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/17/2018
Artyom almost wants to let the thing go, almost feeling bad for the adolescent creature, clearly as afraid of them as they are of it. But only almost- he knows full well pity and kindness would be lost on that kind of creature, and it'll happily grow into a big spiderbug eager to eat humans and breed and make more spiderbugs willing to do the same. They're just big, awful bugs. And then he almost wants to rush ahead, finish it himself, but Pavel has a better idea.

Flicking out his lighter once more, Artyom trains his lamp on the hole in the wall, coated in webs, in case some more decide to come through and make their day. Pavel doesn't have to tell him 'set fire to spiderwebs' twice, the eager little pyro happily doing so, the flame spreading along the fuse of web deep into the hole, and hopefully to any nests, where it might end this problem, at least for now.

That done, he backs off from the hole, keeping his light on it a moment longer, before heading back to Pavel- is he done, or would he like a little help?

itsAlana08/17/2018
Pavel seems to be doing just fine, and by the time Artyom's indulged his pyromania productively, has the spiderbug flipped on its back and its belly full of bullets. "Easy as shooting rats in a latrine," he says, cheerfully, and grins at Artyom, kicking the twitching body of the spiderbug aside. "If only all our problems were so easily solved, eh?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/17/2018
"Eugh." Artyom says, crinkling his nose at the imagery. Great, now he's gonna have nightmares, *again*, about rats being in the toilet and biting his butt. Ugh! Still, though, he huffs through his nose, rubbing it with his thumb as he looks disdainfully at the bug and nods. Yeah, if only all his problems could be solved with a few bullets and some fire.

Well, to be honest, all his problems could be solved with one bullet. But he's not quite fallen that far yet, not with Pavel still here.

Well, that's all done, then, it seems, and Artyom sweeps over the area with his headlight, before turning to make their way forward again, with only a brief glance at Pavel.

itsAlana08/17/2018
That's the only spiderbug they see, aside from the little web-living ones that are hard to avoid, and the rest of the walk to Armory is easy and eventless, though Pavel keeps his gun out, just in case, even as he chatters to Artyom, the topics wide-ranging and mostly meaningless-- apparently he'd gotten in what he'd wanted to, earlier, telling Artyom about the officers, and now he's just filling the air with noise.

The guards on this side of Armory wave them through, apparently recognizing Pavel, and one of them tells them that the officers just finished inspecting the weapons factory, and are probably at the bar now. "Excellent!" Pavel says, cheerfully, and unloads Artyom's pack onto the guard, "take our stuff to wherever the officers are sleeping, eh? And here's a couple bullets, maybe you can come drinking with us once your shifts over." He motions for Artyom to unload his stuff on the next guard over. "We had a go at the spider bug problem on the way over here, by the way-- my friend here found a hole they were coming through, and set it on fire for us, isn't that clever? Might wanna stick a flamethrower in it later, just to make sure, but hopefully that'll help."

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/17/2018
Artyom appreciates Pavel's noise, though- he always had. He always liked that about Pavel, happy to fill the silence Artyom leaves with his muteness, without ever bothering Artyom on it. It's comfortable, and it puts him at ease. As they approach the gates, Artyom hastily returns his weaponry to their hiding places, hoping not to let them be any kind of problem. He takes off the borrowed helmet, too, happy to return it to the Reds, not wanting to be much of a burden and take too much.

As Pavel and the guards make chatter, Artyom does as directed, giving the guard an apologetic smile as he unloads his pack on the man- save for his guitar, he claims that, slinging it around his torso to hang off his back. Just in case Pavel or his fellow officers are thirsty for more music, as Artyom's fingers are still a little hungry for the strings.

He gives a soft chuckle at the mention of his mild pyromania, his cheeks coloring as he scoots to Pavel's side once more, letting Pavel cover the conversation for both of them.

itsAlana08/17/2018
"Ahh, I fucking love using the flamethrower," one of the guards sighs, and grins at Pavel, hoisting a pack onto his back. "I'll let my commander know, sir. Have a good time at the bar!"

Pavel grins back and drops off his own helmet, reseating his officer's cap before he slings an arm across Artyom's shoulders, careful of his guitar. "Now let's go get something to drink, eh, priyatel?" he says, cheerfully, and pulls Artyom along with him towards the bar. Booze! Soon: the booze! He can hardly wait!

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/17/2018
Ahh, yes, booze. He was thinking they'd probably just have a normal rest and a bunch of awkward and nervewracking, to Artyom, talk with Pavel's officers, maybe a meal. But booze! That certainly makes prospects a bit lighter. Maybe he can drink through the introductionary talk, drink himself to unconsciousness, so he can sleep through Pavel justifying his existence, and avoiding thinking about his sorry, pathetic, treasonous lot in life.

He smiles a little, gladly letting himself be pulled along and giving Pavel a little pat on the back, always eager for a trip to the bar. Booze!

itsAlana08/17/2018
It'll make it easier for Artyom to be introduced, certainly, and Pavel makes a happy humming noise when they approach the bar; his comrades are already deep in their cups, it looks like, and he grabs a stool from a nearby table, pushing it into theirs. "Comrades! I made it back to you!" he announces, jovially, "and I brought a drinking buddy with me!"

"Ahh, shit," one of the officers says, his pocked face flush with drink and his hands unsteady as he lifts his cup, "and here I was hoping we'd ditched you for good, eh, Comrade Morozov?"

"Fuck you, Petya," Pavel says, and punches the man in the shoulder, with a cheery laugh. "Everyone, this is Artyom-- he's an old contact of mine, saved my bacon, ahh, shit, at least five or six times, yeah? He's a great kid." He ruffles Artyom's hair, and introduces around the table, "Tyomik, this fucker is Pyotr, he thinks that he still outranks me--" The man has a single star on his striped insignia, marking him as a major-- "and these are Colonel Nikolai Vasiliev and Major Sergei Popov." Pyotr, Artyom might remember, is the guy Pavel spoke most fondly and frendily of, and recounted some funny gossip of, on their ride over; Nikolai, he mentioned, was stuffy but good-hearted, and no one liked Sergei very much but he was efficient as hell, and every time he got drunk he told a different story of how he lost his eye and where he got his truly magnificent metal-plated leather eyepatch.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/17/2018
Pavel's introduction of Artyom has him blushing, chuckling bashfully at the ruffle to his hair, smoothing it back out (fruitless effort) as he sits down with Pavel's fellows at the table, stealing a chair of his own.

He gives a little wave to the officers as they're introduced, awkwardly friendly and looking pretty tired. Artyom has liked some pretty unsavory people before (namely Bourbon, though he still pretends it wasn't that he liked the guy-), so maybe for the sake of a story about losing an eye and gaining a wicked eyepatch, Artyom can put up with Sergei. He gives the man glance, as if hoping, with all the drinking happening, he might get it any minute now. Ah, but he distracts himself with looking where he might be able to grab a drink for himself- is he gonna have to spend some bullets on the bartender, or is anyone willing to share? Communism is about sharing, right? Share the hooch! The boy wants to drink, and he gestures as much to the cups the men are drinking from.

itsAlana08/17/2018
Pavel just steals Petya's cup out of his hand, and passes it to Artyom, getting a laughing "Hey!" from his friend. "I'll get you another one, Petya," he says, with a grin, and tells them, "I'm getting another bottle, since it looks like that one's about out-- be nice to the kid, yeah?"

"Of course," Nikolai says, and gives Artyom a solemn nod, and Pyotr says, "No promises to you, drink-thief," with a laugh, and Sergei says, "Get us the good shit," his voice a deep rumble.

Then Artyom's alone with the strange Red officers, and they all look him over for a moment, considering Pavel's friend, before Sergei says, "You one of Pavel's little pet spies? I didn't know he had any left out there, after last year."

"Spies do good work for the red line," Nikolai murmurs, and takes a sip of his vodka. "Nothing wrong if he is."

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/17/2018
Artyom laughs as well, and gladly takes a generous gulp from the pilfered drink- ahh, booze. His truest friend. The greatest and most understanding friend of any in the Metro. It only hits him when Pavel is turning away that getting another bottle means leaving Artyom, however briefly, alone with the strange Red officers he only just met, and he chokes slightly on his second sip- just in time for Sergei to prove why no one really likes him too much.

Artyom coughs a little at his comment, and turns his eyes down, brow furrowing. It's not like that at all, he would never be a spy, even if he's turned traitor and defected to the Red Line. But he can't exactly say so, can he? Not if that's the most reliable cover story Pavel wants to give him. The whole thing leaves him feeling rotten to the core, and he looks downright miserable before he decides to wash away the sour taste in his mouth with more burning booze. What Nikolai has to say doesn't really make him feel much better. Defended, yes, but not any better.

itsAlana08/19/2018
"Look at this kid, he's like, twelve," Pyotr says, "are we getting spies out of the fucking cradle now?" He pats Artyom's shoulder, and then steals his vodka back. "Just because Pavel's a spy doesn't mean all his friends are, too."

Sergei snorts, and leans towards Artyom, and says, rather gruffly, "You want to know where I got this eyepatch from?"

Nicolai sets down his cup, and sets his chin in his palm, looking at Sergei rather expectantly; Pavel reappears with cups and a new bottle, and slots in next to Artyom, grinning. "Ahh, is it storytime already?" he asks, pouring vodka for everyone (starting with Artyom).

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
Hey! Artyom is almost twenty-two, he'll have you know! The crack about his age doesn't do much for Artyom's mood, though the pat to his shoulder, and the almost mind-reading suggestion that not all of Pavel's friends are spies... That does help, and Artyom offers Pyotr a small smile and no argument as the man steals his cup back.

And just in time for Sergei to redeem himself by offering to tell Artyom one of his eye stories! This certainly piques his interest, raising his eyebrows and leaning close conspiratorially, eager for a story- ah, and a drink, thank you Pavel, sipping from his fresh cup and looking over the rim at Sergei with tired yet interested eyes.

itsAlana08/19/2018
"I tore the skin off the Nazi spy who took my eye," Sergei says, voice low and dark, "with the same fork he'd used on me, and melted the fork down to make the plates after I'd tanned his skin to leather."

"Sergei," Pavel says, voice scolding but laughing, "are you trying to scare Artyom? You don't even know him yet!"

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
Artyom snorts at Pavel and elbows him- oh, please, you think that scares him? Ahh, but these guys don't know the things Artyom has seen, has done. Don't know that within their own Line are men whispering horror stories of Artyom's deeds like a monster in the dark.

Still, he crinkles his nose and chuckles, looking both grossed out and mildly entertained, before taking another drink- and swaying slightly as he sets his cup down. That's our Artyom, already growing drunk from only a few gulps.

itsAlana08/19/2018
Sergei looks a little grumpy that Artyom doesn't seem even a little spooked, and settles back in his chair. "It's true," he says, solidly, and slams back his cup of vodka.

"I think the version with the giant mutant mosquito is still the best," Nikolai says, and sips his own drink. "Where it was trying to suck out your brains? That was a good story."

Pavel laughs, and places a steadying hand on Artyom's shoulder, and murmurs to him, "Hey, slow down, Tyomik, you'll pass out on the table, eh?"

Across them, Pyotr is joking about how that mosquito must have gotten further than Sergei claimed.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
You fool! Passing out the table is a favorable possibility for Artyom! He snorts dismissively and drinks again, leaning just a little closer to Pavel, into that hand on his shoulder, as he listens to the other men joke and tease.

Ahh, he kinda wants to share some of his stories now, and one of his hands fiddles a bit at his jacket, heading for his clipboard, only to change his mind and set the hand down on the table again. He only just met these men. Let there be a little more of a buffer before he embarrasses himself with his muteness and written language.

itsAlana08/19/2018
Pavel rolls his eyes at Artyom, but gives him a fond smile, too, and tops off his cup before engaging in conversation with his friend and comrades, joking with his buddy Pyotr and chatting amiably with the other two, and-- if Artyom's not too drunk to notice-- slipping in casual little comments about how great Artyom is, mentioning things like "after that time Artyom cut me down from a noose," generally just talking him up to these officers-- slipping Artyom into trustworthiness with all the cleverness he used to tell Artyom about these officers.

He's also drinking, though, and as he drinks he laughs louder and wraps his arm around Artyom's shoulders, supporting him as he gets more wobbly... he's also leaning into his friend Petya, though, so there's clearly nothing to read into it.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
Artyom does notice, even through the growing haze of alcohol, and he acts properly modest and bashful about it. Shrugging and smiling sheepishly and his cheeks tinting pink- aside from the flush of alcohol, of course. He realizes what Pavel is doing, too. Giving them a good impression of him, the same way he gave Artyom an impression of these men and who to be wary of. He wonders, as he looks down into his cup during another drink, how often Pavel had been saying more than he really said, thinking beyond his words, back when they first met, and when Artyom had only known him as a charming, talented, somewhat heroic, if slightly bumbling Red, before he realized how clever Pavel actually was.

It can be excused as the flush of a drunk when Artyom, already swaying with drooping eyelids, goes a bit red in the face as Pavel's arm slings around his shoulder. There's nothing to read into it, but that doesn't stop Artyom from coughing into his cup as his heart beats harder, his stomach fluttering, his fuzzy mind racing. What is wrong with him?? Why does he get like this when Pavel shows him affection? That is something that can be read into, and he barely dips his toes in it before recoiling away, refusing to read deeper and realize just how fucked up he actually is.

"Mngh." Artyom slumps into Pavel, even as his heart thumps against his ribs and his breathing feels a little faster to match, but he's drunk and only half conscious, his inhibitions unable to hold back his need for closeness with the other man, even as his mind wonders what the hell is wrong with him. It's at least easily excusable as him just being a sleepy and affectionate drunk.

itsAlana08/19/2018
When Artyom starts to slump into Pavel, Pyotr jokes, "Pashenka, why'd you give the twelve-year-old vodka? You should have started him on mushroom beer, yeah?"

Pavel laughs, and ruffles his hand through Artyom's hair, and says, "I, ah, I thought we were turning over a new leaf, Petya-- is torture back in vogue? Shit, no one tells me anything!" He rests his hand on the back of Artyom's neck, leaning into Pyotr in turn, and asks his young and very drunk friend, "You wanna drink yourself under the table, Artyom? Or go find a soft place to fall over?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
Artyom makes a disgruntled noise and crinkles his nose at the twelve-year-old comment, but even more at mushroom beer, because that shit is even nastier than shitty Metro vodka. And anyways, you'd think the fact that his face is even scruffier than usual would offset the age commentary! Jeeze! Just wait until Artyom has had a chance to shave. THEN call him a baby.

What Pavel has to say catches his attention a bit, though- a new leaf, with torture out of vogue, huh? Hm. Ah, but he hardly has time to think on that when his mind is turning to mush under Pavel's hand in his hair, sending wild flutters through his belly and a shiver down his spine, coaxing his eyes shut as he lets his face fall against Pavel's shoulder... He at least deigns to answer Pavel's question, though it's by holding up a flat hand and wiggling it back and forth in a "meh" kinda way. Either or, is good for him. It wouldn't be the first time he's drunk himself under the table and wouldn't be the last, and ditto to being carted to someplace softer for falling over on. (Though, Pavel is pretty soft...)

itsAlana08/19/2018
Pavel hmms, and muses, "Sukaaaa, it'd probably make a bad impression if you vomited on four red officers right after joining the line... let's find you someplace to lay down, eh, priyatel? And maybe some gruel to soak up that vodka, what do you say?" He knows Artyom can't say much of anything, but he's sure Artyom can make himself clear, and anyways it's not really much of a question, Pavel flashing a smile at the other officers as he nudges Artyom to his feet, hand sliding down past his guitar and slotting his arm between the guitar and Artyom's back.

"You really must have saved his life, Artyom," Nikolai says, face pink with drink but very serious, "he never carries me home after I've drunk too much."

"You haven't earned it yet," Pavel laughs, "and Artyom has, five times over. Come on, my-- my-- my inebriated friend."

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
Artyom snorts and chuckles into Pavel's shoulder. C'mon, he doesn't vomit that often at least, he usually just passes out... Ah, but that sounds nice, and he nods with a grunt, even if it wasn't a real question. He lets himself be nudged to his feet, which are very, very wobbly, but Pavel's arm around his back and Artyom leaning heavily against him really helps.

Nikolai's comment makes him pause, though, his own face quite pink, and he clears his throat sheepishly. Although, to be fair, Artyom weighs as much as like, a gallon of milk, compared to most other grown men (Nikolai likely included). But still, the significance of Nikolai's words and expression aren't lost on the very drunk boy, and he glances up at Pavel's face... "Mh."

itsAlana08/19/2018
"Don't embarrass the teenager," Pyotr tells Nikolai, as Sergei glowers drunkenly at everyone around him, and Pavel laughs as he pulls Artyom away from the table-- then turns back around and says, "Aaah, blyat, chuvak, where are we staying? I told the guard to take our stuff there, but I didn't ask where it was..."

"Pashenka can't even find his way home drunk!" Pyotr crows, and bounces to his feet, face crinkled in a grin. "Come on, come on, I'll show you the way-- ey, Artyom, you need another shoulder to lean on, or can you still move your feet?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
Artyom has started giggling quietly against Pavel's shoulder as he leans into it as Pavel had turned to go, turned back, gets laughed at for not even knowing where to go- the lot of drunkards they are! They must be a spectacle, and Artyom in his half-conscious state is finding this hilarious.

Ah, but Pyotr, a good man, Artyom has decided, is coming to their rescue. He experimentally shuffles on his feet, and decides he doesn't trust them, holding out his other arm- his first, of course, is slung around Pavel for support. He absolutely will not mind another friend to help him to someplace to safely pass out, and he smiles drunkenly at Pyotr.

Being drunk is so much nicer than being sober. He makes friends so much easier, and half the time his worries melt away, temporarily lost to the bottom of the bottle.

itsAlana08/19/2018
Amazing, how pleasant being carried between two cheerful, playful men makes Artyom feel so good! Pyotr's arm is steady across Artyom's back, just above Pavel's, and they shuffle along at a pretty good pace, Pyotr and Pavel joking over Artyom's duckfluff hair, teasing and mocking each other-- clearly birds of a feather, Pavel relaxed and cheery in his friends' presences.

It's not long before Pyotr pushes open a door for the three of them, and untangles himself from Artyom, grinning at Pavel. "You gonna come back and drink the rest of the vodka with us, Pasha?" he asks.

Pavel pretends to consider this, and decided, "Ahh, no, comrade-- if I'm lucky, the three of you will drink yourselves sick on my share, and I'll get an extra day off while you recover, yeah? You can go back, though, Petya!"

Laughing delightedly, Pyotr smacks Pavel's shoulder and claims, "You're a cruel man! But you're right that we might." Chuckling, he departs with a wave, and a friendly, "I'll see you around, Artyom!" as Pavel guides his defected friend into the room-- where, indeed, his bags are piled in a corner, and there's a couch with a coffee table, a few clean-ish cots, and a little stove with its grill open to let the charcoal warm the room. "Ahhh, luxury," Pavel says, "sleeping in the same room as four other guys, yeah?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
Artyom is all chuckles and giggles and fumbling legs between them as the two men cart him to where they're all staying. He's pretty drunk, but it's still pretty clear to him that Pavel and Pyotr must be pretty good friends- all that Petya and Pasha and even Pashenka between them. So this is one of Pavel's real friends, someone who actually knows him. Someone who isn't just some kid he ran with for a little while before stabbing in the back.

He laughs as Pavel eases him into the room after Pyotr leaves, and there's a bitterness in it this time. Of course Pavel has real friends, besides Artyom. Of course he's not alone. Artyom isn't quite sure if he expected Pavel to be as friendless as he is, to hold what they had so close to his heart like Artyom did (discounting Artyom's strange obsession), but it seems he might have, and he's not sure why. Damn him, what is he doing here? Pavel doesn't need him here, doesn't need Artyom, especially not near as much as Artyom needs him. He already has his friends, his life. He doesn't need this lost acquaintance on his doorstep. But it's too late now, isn't it?

He grunts, tugging himself from Pavel so that he can stumble towards the couch- he promptly loses his footing, but it's okay, he expected that, and he falls forward almost gracefully to land face-first full-bodied on the couch, one leg dangling off. He groans into the old cushions- yeah, luxury, he thinks, and not as sarcastically as Pavel seems to. It's got an entire couch, and a coffee table, and cots, and even a hot stove to warm the place. Better than a lot of places he's seen, so long as you don't mind a lack of privacy. "Mmffg."

itsAlana08/19/2018
Laughing softly as Artyom staggers over and plops on his front, Pavel follows behind, sitting on the coffee table and casually strumming the guitar where it lays across Artyom's back. "You gonna sleep like that, d'Artagnan?" he asks, and plucks each string from lowest to highest. "Not that I'll stop you, but it doesn't look too comfortable, my musketeer."

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
"Mff." He actually forgot his guitar was still there- that could've been bad. He lets Pavel play with the strings for a minute, before finding the strength in his drunkenness to push himself up- enough to tug the guitar strap off so he can set the instrument down on the ground beside the couch. And then he plops RIGHT back into the couch, face returned to the cushions, muffling his further grunting.

The good mood part of drunkenness has left him. Now all he's left with is unhappy thoughts in a hazy mind and a brain full of sleepy. But he doesn't sleep yet, too busy being miserable into the couch, quickly noticing a weird sort of jealousy festering in his gut and being unhappy about it. Artyom finally takes his face out of the cushion, mostly to breathe, turning his head and looking at Pavel so... tiredly.

itsAlana08/19/2018
Pavel looks a little sleepy, too, but he's fondly regarding Artyom anyways, elbows on his knees and chin in his hand. "Hey there, priyatel," he says, when Artyom looks at him, "how are you still awake, when you look that tired, eh?" He reaches out, and pats Artyom's head, like he's a cute animal-- which, strictly speaking, is true-- and asks, "Want me to liberate a blanket from the oppressive clutches of the bourgeoisie bed? Ahh, I think I promised you food, too, but I don't remember where the kitchens are here..." He huffs, and looks drowsily thoughtful.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
Artyom feels slightly soothed by the petting, if only because he is so starved for Pavel's affection, soothing that constant ache within him. But it just stirs up more uncomfortable feelings, that he struggles to keep within. He yawns instead, and nods, appreciating Pavel's offer as he finally shifts his entire body, rolling over onto his back and getting into a more comfortable position, prepared for sleeps.

He's a little hungry, yeah, but he can wait until morning, when he's hungover and miserable. He's not sure he can eat right now, anyways. Instead, he watches Pavel with a longing hunger in his eyes, before pulling his clipboard out from his jacket. With it sitting against his chest, he starts to try to write, but all he gets out is unreadable drunken scribbles before he fumbles with the pencil and drops it, the pencil nub rolling to the crook of his neck before he can retrieve it and put it back with a sigh.

He wishes he could talk. He has so many things to say.

itsAlana08/19/2018
With a soft "oof" of effort, Pavel gets to his feet and wanders to the cots, stealing the blanket off the one nearest the stove-- whoever sleeps there will be *fine*, probably-- and tossing it over Artyom. Entirely over Artyom. It covers his head, too, and Pavel snickers, hand finding Artyom's shoulder as he leans over him to pull it down to a more reasonable chin-covering height. "Theeere you go, d'Artagnan, a nice comfy couch for you," he says, and pats Artyom's shoulder. "I'm gonna go take my boots off and find the least lumpy cot, okay?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
"Uh!" Pavel gets a surprised noise as Artyom is covered head to toe, clipboard and all. He's got a funny non-serious glower on his face when Pavel uncovers it, before he rolls his eyes a little dramatically and tugs his arms free. He reaches over to set his clipboard down on the coffee table- if the Reds decide to flip through it for whatever reason, they'll find under the topmost blank pieces his half of his conversations from the last day or two. Maybe it's a little sensitive in his conversations with Pavel, maybe revealing a little too much of who Artyom is and how they know each other. But if Pavel thinks that's sensitive, he can go burn those papers himself in the stove, Artyom won't mind.

"Mmh." He grunts, feeling a little sour again. He needs to talk to Pavel when he's sober again. He just hopes he doesn't forget everything by morning. A part of him hopes, though, that the least lumpy cot is also the one closest to the couch.

itsAlana08/19/2018
Well... it's not, but that's where Pavel ends up anyways, and after a moment's thought, he drags the cot across the floor so that it's closer to Artyom, then sits on it to strip off his boots and settle in. "Like a sleepover!" he says, softly, and slides under the blanket before rolling onto his belly, arms under and chin on the pillow, pale eyes catching the dim light of the room's only bulb. "Were you old enough to have sleepovers, before the war? Ahhh, blin, you don't have to answer that, you can't have been more than, suka, four or five... I guess it's never too late to start having them, eh? Probably more fun when you're an adult, too..." He yawns, and settles his cheek on the pillow. "Not, uh, not much of a sleepover without truth or dare, though... maybe later..."

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
That Artyom's hopes are above and beyond realized actually makes him smile, his heart thumping in his chest and stomach fluttering. Even though Pavel has a truer friend here, still he goes out of his way to be close to Artyom. He's still smiling, as warm as the stove, when Pavel's all settled down for their sleepover and asking questions.

He doesn't have to answer, Pavel said, and Pavel is already half asleep, but he answers anyway- he shakes his head, having never had a real, pre-war sleepover, having been, Pavel is right in his guess, far too young. After a moment, though, he clears his throat, and holds up four fingers- two on each hand. Two and Two. Twenty two. And then he points at himself. He's twenty-two! He was born earlier the same year the bombs fell!

itsAlana08/19/2018
Pavel blinks at Artyom, and swears in a drowsy voice, "Sukaaa, you are a kid, Petya was right. Didn't know the Rangers let little babies into Sparta... I guess I know why they let you in, though, clever Artyom..." He yawns, and presses his face into his pillow for a moment, before continuing his thought, "Glad we get you now... blyat, lucky..."

And then, even though Artyom had been the one who'd seemed so tired on the way in, Pavel and the new lines of exhaustion on his face seem well on their way to sinking into sleep.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
Artyom chuckles, his cheeks pink again, but the mirth dies as Pavel talks about how lucky he is, how lucky the Red Line is, to have stolen Artyom from the Rangers. That wipes the smile off Artyom's face even before he catches Pavel's yawn and yawning himself. As Pavel drifts off, Artyom's hand snakes under his jacket, to clutch at his shirts- and at the pair of Spartan dogtags underneath, his own and Hunter's.

God, he is pathetic. How disappointed would Hunter be in him now, to see where Artyom has ended up, what a pathetic mess he's become? His mind is swimming with these thoughts of self-hatred and what-ifs as Artyom fades slowly into sleep, into swirling darkness of uncomfortable dreams.

But regardless of the content of his dreams, he sleeps like a dead man, hardly moving an inch and difficult to wake.

itsAlana08/19/2018
The other officers come back to the room eventually, and to a man drunkenly fall into bed, Nikolai valiantly claiming the blanketless cot-- what a gentleman!-- and falling into a sleep as deep as Artyom and Pavel's.

Pavel finds himself the first to rise, and he drapes his blanket over noble Nikolai as he leaves the room in search of food; a short while later, he returns, a pot of mushroom gruel in one hand and a stack of bowls in the other, setting them on the coffee table and shaking Artyom gently to try and rouse him.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
Artyom wakes suddenly with a start and a gasp, his eyes shooting open, automatically moving to defend himself, reaching for the knife under his jacket- but that all only lasts seconds before reality sets in, and he realizes it's just Pavel he's looking at, not some mutant or nazi. For that brief moment, though, Pavel might notice his eyes are just slightly wet. He lets out his breath, and goes limp against the couch once more with a groan, pressing his hand to his head. Which, now that he's awake, has greeted him 'good morning!' with a heavy hangover.

"Nnngh."

itsAlana08/19/2018
Pavel draws back a little at the start-- ahh, shit, Artyom, don't scare him like that!-- and when Artyom settles, comes closer again with a sympathetic noise. "Sukaaa, I know," he murmurs, and pats Artyom's head, "but I brought food. Maybe something hot in your stomach will help, yeah?" He offers Artyom a hand, to help him get upright.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
Artyom groans, but it's a little softer than the last one, thanks to that hand patting his head. Pavel petting and patting and ruffling his hair can keep being a thing forever, please. He takes the man's hand, though and lets himself be helped upright, rubbing his face as he sits up. Some food sounds good, yeah, and some water- did Pavel bring water? Artyom clears his throat, miming drinking from a glass at Pavel, thirsty.

itsAlana08/19/2018
"I only had two hands, Artyom!" he says, softly, trying not to wake the other officers, but suggests, "If you can walk and eat, we can go looking for something to unparch your throat, yeah?" He turns to the coffee table, pulling some spoons out of his pocket and glopping some mushy mushroom grossness into a bowl for Artyom, and some more into a bowl for himself. It is, as he promised, hot, at the very least, though that's about its only redeeming quality.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
"Mmh." He nods, and grabs at his bowl the moment Pavel has dished out his helping of gruel- it's not much different than the stuff they'd get often in the Rangers mess hall, and even sometimes at Exhibition, when times were rough. He also reaches for his clipboard- stuffing it back into his jacket in case he needs it- and then a spoon for himself. Spoon in one hand and bowl in the other, Artyom rises to his feet with only a slight wobble. Taking a few eager gulps of his mush, he looks at Pavel expectantly. See, he can eat and walk, let's go get some water. It'll help his hangover.

itsAlana08/19/2018
Pavel takes a moment to put the pot on the stove, and cover the top with one of the bowls, to keep it warm and un-ratted for the other officers; then he claims his own bowl and gives Artyom a lopsided grin before leading him out into the hall.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
Artyom follows easily, shoveling gruel into his facehole hungrily. They probably hardly get very far before his bowl is empty, and Artyom is left carrying around a dirty, empty bowl and spoon. It was tasteless, unappetizing mush, but boy was it filling, and that's what matters.

itsAlana08/19/2018
Pavel leads Artyom back towards the cafeteria where he got the mushroom mush, eating steadily, and when he gets there plants his bowl on a table and slides behind the counter to find some mugs and get some water for the two of them, with a grin at the woman serving gruel to a line of citizens. She squints back, but doesn't object to his looting of her kitchen, and he returns to Artyom with a big mug of water for his friend to drink. "Here you go," he says, and settles at the table to keep eating, sipping from his mug and looking like he's planning a rather leisurely morning.

There are seats both next to and across from Pavel! Where does Artyom sit?

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
Artyom kinda hovers at the table, watching Pavel and not yet sitting, until his friend returns and sits down. Artyom sits with him, picking the seat beside him, their elbows close. That way, should he want to talk, it'll be easier... it's also closer, and he prefers that. He takes a few hearty gulps of water, already worried he's gonna need a refill for his thirsty hangover, before setting his cup down and retrieving his clipboard from his jacket.

itsAlana08/19/2018
Pavel straightens up a little when Artyom pulls out his clipboard, looking interested (if still a bit tired), and slants another smile at Artyom. "Something on your mind? Or just want to chat?" he asks, bumping his elbow against Artyom's in a friendly kind of way.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
"Mh..." Artyom doesn't give much of a hint to either direction, and just fiddles with one of his pencils for a bit as he sips at his water, not yet writing anything, his eyes downturned. But eventually, he starts to write something after all.

"You and Pyotr must be good friends." He writes, showing little sign of how he feels about that. "Pashenka, huh?"

itsAlana08/19/2018
Pavel leans over a little, to read as Artyom writes, sipping his water, and laughs. "Ahh, yeah, we've known each other... six years? Seven? He was always a rank ahead of me, a couple years older than me, until I was made a captain and he wasn't a major yet, and for the first time I wasn't running errands for him when we ran into each other, and we hit it off." He nudges his elbow against Artyom's again, and suggests, "You could call me Pashenka too, Tyomik! Or did you want to be his friend? I'll understand if you want to go be buddies with someone who hasn't--"

He seems to think better of the joke halfway through, and shuts himself up with a sip of water and a quiet hum.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
Artyom... actually blushes a bit, at Pavel's suggestion that he could call him Pashenka, too. He fusses with his pencil as he considers it, until Pavel just about ruins the mood with almost bringing up the sour shit between them, and Artyom bites his lip. They're both quiet after that, until finally, a minute or two later, Artyom starts to write again.

"I'm glad to know you have real friends." It says, though there's more behind those words that he doesn't write. The fact Pavel has friends at all, unlike him, that Artyom is realizing how likely inconsequential he is in Pavel's life in the long run, compared to the man's real friends, who know him better, have known him longer. That maybe he'd gotten the wrong impression from how Pavel seemed so eager to bring Artyom to the side of the Reds, at his sadness at their confrontation, that he thought he might have been something special, and not just another regular friend. Instead of any of that, he at least adds on, "I feel a bit like a third wheel, though.

itsAlana08/19/2018
Pavel lets out a breath, and scoots his chair closer to Artyom, and says, "Oooopa-pa-pa, Artyom, you should've already known I've got real friends. I've got at least two in this very station with me, yeah?" He gently noogies Artyom with his knuckles, mussing up his fluff of hair even worse than it already was. You're one of them, Artyom... "It's not like a guy can have too many friends, anyways."

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
Artyom frowns a bit, but leans slightly into the ruffling of his hair anyways. "It's made me realize how little I truly know you, compared to these friends you've known much longer than a few days." He writes in confession, though it hardly touches upon how deep his negative feelings here go. Still, his heart is beating faster as he realizes Pavel has counted him among his friends anyways. "I want to know you better."

itsAlana08/19/2018
With a quiet little noise, Pavel lowers his voice, hand flattening in Artyom's hair, "That's, blyat, not... not something a lot of people say after they've seen my bad side, Tyomik," he says, voice a little low, "especially when they've seen so much of it, yeah?"

His hand lingers in Artyom's hair for a moment, then he drops it, wrapping it around his mug of water, and jokes, lightly, though his voice is still low, "I mean, I get defecting to the Red Line, but why'd you want to hang out with a spy like me, eh?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
Artyom takes a breath, and then writes a real whammy of a line, his face dead serious. "I don't care about the Red Line."

Maybe he's playing his hand too soon, he immediately starts to worry, maybe he's gonna scare Pavel away, giving these hints at just how much Pavel has taken over his mind. But he's hungover and feeling weirdly jealous of both Pavel and his friends, and incredibly insecure, and he hates himself, and he wants to be a little more honest. Maybe he will scare Pavel off. Maybe he should. Maybe he needs the sense knocked into him, or at least give him an excuse to let it all go.

"Joining Red Line is just what I had to do to get what I actually wanted. I just wanted to join you." He wasn't lying before, when he said Pavel was at least half the reason he was defecting. He just wasn't entirely truthful that Pavel was the *only* reason he was defecting. Artyom swallows, gripping his pencil a little more tightly. "Despite everything, you are still my friend, and I want to try again. After all, I already forgave you, back at the Red Square. I've missed you ever since."

His heart laid a little more bare, even if the depths of it are still mostly obscured, Artyom glances up at Pavel, brow furrowed and eyes fearful and hopeful both, looking for Pavel's reaction, hoping for the best and expecting the worst.

itsAlana08/19/2018
Pavel looks somewhat like someone dropped a nuclear bomb on his brain-- or personally hand-delivered it on a clipboard, perhaps-- and a little "Opaaahhhhh" seems to break unbidden from his mouth.

He's silent for a handful of doubtlessly painful seconds, sipping his water, and then says, a little strained, "Shit, I already knew you had bad taste in friends, Artyom, but this is a-- hahhh-- a little-- you didn't need to prove it so thoroughly, yeah?" He slants a little smile at Artyom, but there's concern in his eyes-- he's not so bothered by Artyom not caring for the Red Line, but the idea that Artyom would choose to come to it, to the line of his betrayal and torment and that killed so many of his Ranger friends, for no reason other than Pavel... "What if you don't like what you see, trying again, huh? I'm not a good guy, you know."

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/19/2018
Pavel's not wrong to be concerned. Really, someone SHOULD be. Artyom is in a really bad place and that's not even getting into his utter obsession with Pavel. But still, the reasons Pavel uses aren't exactly the reasons this is a problem... Artyom takes a breath, and lets it out slow.

"I'm not exactly a good guy, either. Not much better than you. I have done horrible things. Who am I to judge?" He writes, and his hand trembles just slightly when he pauses between writings. "Haven't I already seen you at your worst? I'll be surprised if you can get worse than stabbing me in the back. And the time before that, when it was just me and you on the run together,"

He pauses, swallowing dryly. He's been out of water for a while now. "you made me feel happy, happier than I'd been in a while. You put my mind at ease, you made me laugh, and despite how I was wrong to trust it, how you abused it, you made me feel safe. And despite my better judgement, you still do, just in the last day. I want it to be real."

itsAlana08/19/2018
Pavel is... he's... blyat, he's kind of... touched? He feels like this is maybe kind of fucked up, that Artyom latched onto him so hard and fast, and even all the shit Pavel did to him didn't undo it, but-- but he's-- he's touched, too, and he-- he felt something, when they were traveling together, when Artyom had saved his life, this little mouse of a ranger slotting in at his side like a piece of him he'd forgot he'd been missing, a gear that made the clockwork work.

He's silent for a second, and then he says, softly, "Well, fuck, Artyom," and bumps their shoulders together. "I don't know if it'll be the same, but, uh, I'm not going to... to tell you not to be happy, yeah? Every man deserves a little bit of happiness in his life."

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/20/2018
Hey, Pavel, you're one to talk. We all know you were so desperate to have Artyom on your side, and when you realized how badly you fucked up, you were ready to suicide by cop on him. Let's not pretend Artyom is the only one here who latched on hard and fast. But that's up to these dumb guys to figure out for themselves.

Still, Artyom is expecting the worst and hoping for the best, and once again gets something in between. Something enough to keep him hoping, to make his heart thump and his stomach flutter, and he lets out a breath. "I don't make friends very easily." He writes, looking just a little pained as he admits it. "A lot of people I'm amicable with and friendly acquaintances, yes, but so few friends. I could count them on my hands, including you. It means something to me, that I consider you my friend, and I think it's worth trying again. Getting to know each other better, for real this time."

And then he lets out a nervous chuckle, and adds, "I sound crazy, don't I? Sorry to tell you now, but for all my accomplishments, I'm a bit of a loser socially."

itsAlana08/20/2018
Hey, now, that was... different... somehow. He was having a hard week. The world seemed determined to kill him! And if he'd died to make up for the shit he'd done to Artyom, who'd saved his life so many times-- well-- shit-- wouldn't that have been some kind of... something?

He tries not to think about what happened in the square. The arms grasping him. The Dark One touching his face, and feeling something inside his head-- limping home wild-eyed and half-sure he was already dead, dragged into a shallow grave by the souls he'd tried so long not to believe in, only to find the Red Line in chaos, one major's failure forgotten in the aftermath of all the bigger, worse failures... it's different, all right?

With what Artyom writes, Pavel paps their shoulders together, and asks, a little teasingly, "What, you're not this kind of chatterbox with everyone? I really must be special!" He glances aside, and notices that Artyom's cup is empty-- so he pushes his own water over to him, and reaches for his bowl of mush again, stirring it with his spoon for a moment. "And if that's what you want, Artyom-- blin, you know, it's better than where we were before, isn't it?" He flashes a lopsided smile at Artyom, their shoulders still pressed together, and takes a bite of his mush.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/20/2018
Artyom gives Pavel a knowing look- Pavel has never once commented on it, or made any kind of issue of it, but he's sure the man knows very well the implications of Artyom's muteness. He smiles, though, when the mug is offered, and he drains it in one go, his hangover slowly ebbing away with time and hydration.

"Most people just consider me dumb and don't bother too much, even if they otherwise think well of me." He writes, though, in all seriousness to Pavel's hypothetical question. "But it's never seemed to bother you, or at least you don't show it. I appreciate that."

He smiles at Pavel, and finally bumps his shoulder affectionately against Pavel's, before writing a little more. "You're right. We're safe and sound and we can take our time just being friends. No agendas this time. And it's better than where I was before I came here." At least marginally.

itsAlana08/20/2018
Pavel shakes his head, and tells Artyom, "You'll have to tell me sometime about the, the-- hmm-- the colony of evil earthworms that were keeping you hostage before you came here, yeah?" Pavel doesn't want to touch on something too close to the truth, so... evil earthworms. "And... yeah. No agendas." He gives Artyom another lopsided smile. "It'll be nice, to start the friendship over without Korbut hanging over my head like-- blyat, like a guillotine, after every mission. " It's nice not having to *go* on missions anymore, Pavel's experience suddenly too valuable to risk.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/20/2018
Artyom chuckles softly at Pavel's guess. Sure, let it be a colony of evil earthworms for now. At least that's exciting. He smiles, though, and nudges his elbow against Pavel's. "At least he's not around, yeah. That makes everything a lot easier." He writes. "But you seem even busier without him and Moskvin around. I won't ask for details, but it looks like rebuilding the Line has been a different kind of hell."

itsAlana08/20/2018
"Well, I'm getting up there in rank," he says, with a little laugh, "and we have a lot less brass than we used to... but it's not so bad. I've suddenly got a lot more seniority, a-- a lot more clout, and it's..." He wiggles his hand, and says, "I think it's going to make things better. I think I can... you know... help my fellow man, now, better than I could before." He doesn't say anything about what emptied out the ranks, thinned out the brass, but he doesn't sound too broken up about his side losing.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/20/2018
Artyom's not gonna talk about what happened to the upper ranks if Pavel's not. And anyways, he doesn't sound devastated or anything- but then again, Artyom's been made pretty aware that Pavel is better at hiding his real thoughts than you'd think.

"That's good to hear. The part about you helping your fellow man." He writes, smiling slightly. "You've gone up a rank, Lieutenant Colonel, right? Maybe you'll keep rising. A rising star in the Red Line."

He wants to believe that, despite what he'd done in the past, despite what monstrocities he'd been complicit in, at his heart Pavel is a good man. He wants to believe, given the opportunity, Pavel could do some good.

itsAlana08/20/2018
"Maybe even a... red star?" Pavel suggests, and Artyom is fully justified if he leaves right now and goes back to Exhibition, actually.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/20/2018
Artyom laughs at that- he would be justified if that wasn't already the joke he was implying! Ahhh, these two, they really go together like bread and butter, peanut butter and jelly, oreos and milk.

"Obviously!" He writes.

itsAlana08/20/2018
Pavel laughs, and his hand finds itself on the back of Artyom's neck, warm and friendly and close, his eyes crinkling with his grin. "Aaaah, blyat, whatever you're running from--" he says, affection and fondness open in his voice, "-- I'm glad you're here, d'Artagnan. Two musketeers is better than one, don't you think?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/20/2018
Artyom blushes, and turns his eyes away shyly, looking down at his clipboard even as his heart is pounding at his ribs. "That's true. Are any of your other friends your other Musketeers? Does my being here finally complete your set?"

itsAlana08/20/2018
With a little noise, Pavel shrugs and admits, "Opa, you could say that you complete the set... but, uh, the set's only a set of two." He laughs, a little bashful, and his thumb rubs the side of Artyom's neck, apparently without Pavel thinking about it. "Never met someone I wanted to... to, uh, invite in on it, you know?" Except Artyom.

Potente Byrd Mæmes08/20/2018
Cheeks still pink, Artyom is just kinda gonna relish in the rubbing of Pavel's thumb against his neck- that's really, really nice, and it makes him shiver a little for a second. And then he looks at Pavel, his eyebrows raised, and a small smile on his face.

"Just the Three Musketeers, if there were two of them, huh?" He writes, chuckling. "What, do I just exude a bookworm aura that none of your other friends have? I'm flattered." He's joking, but he really is flattered, actually, that he's the only one Pavel wanted to be musketeers with... His heart aches at that.

itsAlana08/20/2018
Pavel grins, and says, "Yeah, chuvak, I can tell you're a nerd just looking at you! And, uh, and... blyat, I cant go inviting people into the club willy-nilly, right? Not without approval from the other founding member!" Even though d'Artagnan was the new kid in the book-- that doesn't mean Artyom doesn't deserve a say, right?

Pavel's hand is very warm and gentle when he gives Artyom's neck a little scritch, and then he drops it, to eat the rest of his mush. "You want me to get you more water?" he asks Artyom , between bites, a smile lingering around his eyes.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/10/2018
Artyom squirms a little in his seat, all sorts of flattered about Pavel wanting to take his thoughts into account... Aaaa. "More water please." He writes first, as he tries to get his thoughts back together, his mind a little bit fuzzy from thinking about how this really is just a special thing for just the two of them, just Pavel and Artyom. No one else. A bitter part of him tries to suggest that it's not all that special, that maybe it was just Pavel trying to manipulate Artyom with a special feeling of belonging, to make him more malleable and trusting for the inevitable betrayal... But the rest of Artyom stamps that thought down, holding onto the fact that when Pavel thought of it, he'd just pulled the man from a noose, and surely whatever Pavel was feeling in those euphoric moments post-rescue must have been real.

"One of these days," Artyom finally starts to write again, probably after Pavel fetched more water, "I need to find a copy of that book and read it."

itsAlana09/10/2018
Pavel fucking *lights up*, and he was already smiling and joking with Artyom-- then he waves off the idea of Artyom reading his favorite book like it's nothing, and says, "Ahh, shit, you don't have to do a thing like that for me, Artyomik, it's probably some pretty boring shit after the life you've led, yeah?" He would literally kill to have Artyom read it but, like-- it won't kill their friendship if Artyom doesn't. "Let me go get you that water, chuvak, before you die of thirst." He pops to his feet with great cheer, and ruffles Artyom's crop of dark hair with a pleased grin before claiming the cups and going to refill them.

Artyom has a few moments to consider his friend while Pavel goes to get them drinks, and then gets pulled aside by some other officer for a second, chatting in passing with the other fellow before gesturing with towards Artyom and making his excuses to break away.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/10/2018
Artyom actually makes a "Pffft" sound aloud, and waves his hand, and starts writing while Pavel gets up to fetch him a drink- ah, only to pause a moment, because his fuzzy head has been ruffled, and he can't help but smile at that. His heart swells, how much Pavel sets him at ease... and then the darkness settles back in, at how much shame he feels at that. But that's not what he needs to think about right now.

When Pavel returns, there's some new sentences to read! "It occurs to me that in some ways, we still barely know each other." The clipboard paper reads, with Artyom looking just a little smug as he waits for Pavel to read it. "Because you severely underestimate my eagerness to read just about anything I can get my hands on. I am more than happy to take this book recommendation."

And then, "I was only partially joking when I said i must exude a bookworm aura."

itsAlana09/10/2018
Pavel plops down beside him, planting water before him, and bends over the clipboard to read, laughing lightly and bumping shoulders with him. "Well, shit, I... I bet I can find a copy for you, then, priyatel. And I'll keep an eye out for any books you might like!" His expression goes a little sly, and his plump lips quirk at the corners, and he suggests, "Blyat, maybe there's a copy of the Communist Manifesto around here, eh? One look through that will make you a real Red, chuvak." He plucks off his officer's cap, and places it lopsided on Artyom's head, the fabric warmed by Pavel's scalp and his hand falling to pat Artyom's cheek. He's teasing, but also, Artyom looks fucking cute in his hat.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/10/2018
Artyom smiles at that- a proper one, too, one of the few he's had since he came here. "I'd love that" He writes, and means it. He loves books- Oh, please, Pavel. Artyom chuckles and rolls his eyes. "Oh, yes, surely. I'll be a right an proper Red."

With Pavel's cap on his head, sitting crooked and lopsided because Artyom's head is just a bit too small, he smirks up at his friend, his cheeks slightly pink. Pavel's hat is warm, and so is his hand when it patted his cheek, and he would've liked it to stay there, he thinks, as he looks up at Pavel's blue eyes... Ah, and then he thinks he's stared too much, his heart thumping and nerves and shame overtaking him, and he looks away to distract himself with writing again, the hat shifting on his fluffy lil head. "I love books, you know. To be honest, most of what's in my bags is books. I have a lot, they're pretty much my entire life."

itsAlana09/10/2018
Pavel says, "You carried a library with you to me?" with a smile on his face, though it's... it's striking him again how exhausted Artyom looked when Pavel first saw him. How tired Artyom still looks, tired and pale and sometimes like he might be flushed with sickness. Those books must mean so much to him, to be what he chose to carry... "Sukaaaa, I don't know if I have enough shelves for a library! You might have to help me build some new ones, eh? Earn your keep by stacking up some bricks and planks with me."

His hand seems to have magnetically attached itself to Artyom's neck again, the palm warm and warming against his vertebrae, the thumb rubbing behind the corner of Artyom's jaw, soft and with clear affection.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/10/2018
"Yes. I did." He writes, looking quite proud of himself. "Don't worry too much. I never had enough shelves for them all myself, either, even when I had a bigger room at D6. They can stay in my bags if need be."

Ahhh, but with Pavel's hand sitting at the back of his neck, so warm, and the equally warm pad of his thumb playing at his jaw, Artyom can't help but look up at his friend's blue eyes again, and feel just so very... warm. Warm in a way he hasn't felt since... since Theatre. "How about, I repay you by letting you delve into the depths of my library all you like. I may not have the Three Musketeers, but I have plenty of other classics."

itsAlana09/10/2018
Pavel is a little bit in love.

He hasn't quite cottoned onto that yet, but he can tell he's filled with fondness for Artyom, gladness that he's here, admiration at his determination; he's not quite so aware of his quietly hungry desire to make Artyom happy to have come to Pavel, to keep him nearby, but it's in there, too, warming him up from his heart to his bare head.

"How communist of you, sharing freely with your fellow man!" Pavel says, grinning at Artyom. "Who am I to say no to such an offer? Though I might not have much time to read them... if you point me to your favorites, I'll try."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/10/2018
Artyom chuckles quietly. "I've always believed in sharing between people, and doing good for others. If that's communist enough to help me fit in here, then so be it." He shrugs a little, and keeps writing. "Though, if you ask me, my issue with your party has always been that sometimes it seems like some Reds in power don't believe in that enough."

Ahhh, but he doesn't really want to talk politics right now. Not when Pavel sounds eager to read his books, even in his busy schedule, and Artyom feels giddy suddenly, and tries not to bounce in his seat. "I'll write you a list of recommendations later, for when we're settled in. Okay?"

itsAlana09/10/2018
"Okay, chuvak," Pavel agrees, and leans into Artyom a little, friendly, before taking his hat back, at least 65% so he can ruffle his friend's hair. "Now, are you gonna drink that water I got for you, bookworm?"

On the other side of the cafeteria, Pavel's friend Pyotr appears in the door, looking red-eyed and like he drank too much the night before; his eyes land on them and he waves before doing his best not to stagger on his way to get water and mush. Looks like they're about to have company! Anything Artyom wants to say before then?

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/10/2018
Artyom laughs, and tries to ignore just how giddy he feels every time Pavel ruffles his hair- his friend really enjoys that, doesn't he? He spots Pyotr as he drinks his water, and waves back, and when he sets his glass back down he takes a moment to move the sheet on his clipboard he'd been writing on to the bottom, giving him a fresh sheet. He doesn't have anything else to say, though... just a guiltily fond look over at Pavel as he takes another drink.

itsAlana09/10/2018
Pavel understands, and he smiles back at Artyom-- no need for Pyotr to read their conversations, they aren't meant for the man, no matter how fond Pavel is of him-- and scoots a little closer to Artyom on the bench, to make room for Pyotr as the man approaches and practically collapses next to Pavel.

"Ready for a long day of inspecting things, Petya?" Pavel asks, and gets a fervent suka blyat as Pyotr's head thuds to the dirty wood. "Think of all those bright shining buttons, those loud gunshots at the range!" Pavel says, brightly, like the idea won't be torture, and Pyotr gropes for his fork and makes a vaguely threatening gesture with it in Pavel's direction.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/10/2018
Artyom can't help but chuckle at poor Pyotr, whose hangover seems to be much worse than the one he had waking up- which, thankfully, has largely receded. He takes another large gulp of his own water, before gently nudging Pavel with his elbow, to draw his attention- Artyom is writing on his clipboard. "Sounds like a busy day. What should I do? Stay in the room?"

itsAlana09/10/2018
"Ehhh... I don't want to leave you bored all day, chuvak..." Pavel says, thoughtfully,

Pavel answering a question he couldn't hear getting asked gets Pyotr's head up, his blurry eyes squinting down the table at Artyom. "Pashenka, is your friend a, a, a fucking psychic?" he asks, clearly not putting together the clipboard with the conversation yet.

Pavel, laughing and distracted from his train of thought, says, "Fuck yeah he is, Petya, but you've got to have a, a, a real big brain to hear him... that's why he seems silent to you, right?" He grins at Artyom, with a little wink. You wanna help him pull one over on a hungover man, Artyom?

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/10/2018
Artyom was taking another drink, but Pyotr's question, the way it started, had him dreading some insult based on his muteness, and he squinted over the rim of his cup- but then the actual question has him choke and sputter on his water, half coughing and half laughing when he sets his cup down.

Still laugh-coughing, he nods along with Pavel- the funniest part of this is, in a way, it's not a complete lie! Sure, he can't speak his thoughts to others' minds (but GOD does he wish he could, it would make communication while mute SO much easier), but he is psychically sensitive, thanks to the influence of the Dark Ones.

itsAlana09/10/2018
Pyotr straightens up a little, squinting dubiously at Pavel and at the laughing Artyom, and says, "Are you fucking with me? Pasha, are you-- are you and your-- you're fucking with me!"

A veil of earnestly falling across his face, Pavel lays a hand to his heart, and asks, "Priyatel, dearest Petya, my comrade, my brother, would I do a thing like that?" Pyotr nods, and then groans at the sudden movement, closing his eyes. "Well, I can prove it! Think about your... favorite book, Pyotr, and Artyom will pluck the name of it from your mind, and put it in my brain, yeah?"

Pavel, of course, already knows his friend's favorite book, and winks at Artyom again, making a little gesture with his fingers that Artyom should maybe put his fingers to his temples, look all psychic-y.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/10/2018
Artyom is struggling to stifle his continued laughter, putting a hand to his mouth and wheezing just a little as Pavel plays the poor hungover Pyotr like a fiddle... And, happy to play along and trusting Pavel probably already knows the answer, Artyom does as hinted. He puts his first two fingers to one of his temples and closes his eyes, taking on a look of concentration, even humming slightly under his breath. Very psychic looking!!

itsAlana09/10/2018
Giving them a suspicious look, but clearly still blurry with his hangover, Pyotr watches Artyom with foggy intensity, and Pavel closes his eyes, touching his ear like he's hearing a message. "Artyom says... ahhh, Pyotr, he's saying something of mirrors... mirrors and chessboards... is your favorite book... Alice Through the Looking Glass?"

"Blyatsuka-- motherfucker!! No way!" Pyotr looks actually shocked, and absolutely sold on Artyom being a psychic. "How the fuck-- Artyom, Artyom, you motherfucker, how did you do that? How did you know?"

Nevermind that *Artyom* didn't say anything about it, only Pavel did. Pavel's plump lips are pressed tight as he tries not to laugh in Pyotr's face, his eyes crinkling, his arm falling around his "psychic" friend's shoulders. "My Artyomuchka's just that fucking good!" he says, boastfully. "You don't think I'd be friends with someone who wasn't special, do you? Blyat!"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/10/2018
Artyom really, truly struggles not to burst out laughing. Really, it's a miracle he manages to keep his composure, looking calm and giving a very Knowing look over at Pyotr as he sets his hands on the table in front of him, atop his clipboard, fingers laced together. He looks every bit the quiet, knowing psychic!

Ah, but then Pavel's arm is around his shoulders, and calling him special and his friend- and his heart thumps and it swells and even though he know Pavel doesn't really mean it because he's not that special- at least, not like that- he can't help but feel elated to hear such a thing. He smiles, grins even, broadly up at his clever friend.

itsAlana09/10/2018
And what if Pavel does really mean it?

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/10/2018
This kills the Artyom

itsAlana09/10/2018
But nevermind that, Pavel's grinning back at Artyom for a second before leaning back towards Pyotr-- though his arm remains around Artyom's shoulders, almost pulling him against Pavel's chest as he leans-- and whispers, loudly, "But don't tell anyone. He's going to be helping me with intelligence, you know, and if the Line's enemies catch wind of our psychic, they'll only send people who don't know anything..."

His shoulders are shaking a little with barely-restrained laughter as he straightens back up, giving Artyom a truly mirthful look as Pyotr digests this, his bloodshot eyes wide-- and then slowly narrowing as he takes in Pavel's barely-restrained countenance. Oh no, the jig might be up...

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/10/2018
Artyom refuses to think about the way he feels warm when he's practically pulled against Pavel's chest, his cheeks tinting pink, and writes it off as simply the fact that Pavel is a very toasty guy.

Distracted by definitely not thinking about that, aggressively, Artyom is barely paying attention to Pavel's explanation about the necessity of hos definitely real psychic powers, and he almost misses Pyotr starting to catch on- only almost.

And with Pavel slowly failing the struggle not to lose it and Pyotr catching on, Artyom's own facade starts to break down, and he brings his water to his lips to take a drink, trying to hide his smile and stifled giggling into the cup.

itsAlana09/10/2018
Pavel tries to school his face into innocence, and Pyotr's suspicions are confirmed with that, and he swears, lowly, before hitting Pavel in the shoulder, none too gently. "*Fucker*," he hisses, and Pavel bursts into laughter. "And you! Artyom! Letting him-- helping him-- you're a fucker too!" he says, though he's starting to see the humor in it, snickering a little as he leans across Pavel and socks Artyom in the arm, much more gently than he did Pavel.

Pavel tries to say something about assaulting a superior officer, but he's a little too busy wheezing in delight, probably laughing harder than Artyom's ever seen him laugh, arm still wrapped around his dear psychic friend.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/10/2018
Artyom is hardly even drinking his water, mostly just laughing into his cup as Pyotr finally reacts to the truth, hitting Pavel's shoulder- and he sputters when the man rounds on him, informing Artyom that he, too, is a fucker, and the boy can't hold back anymore, setting his cup down to straight up laugh, if quietly, even as he gets an arm-punch too.

And then he looks to Pavel, seeing his friend laugh like he's never seen him before, and Artyom just has this look on his face like... like this is the best thing he's ever seen. And then a wistful longing sets in after, as it dawns on him that he wished he'd been able to make Pavel laugh like that.

itsAlana09/10/2018
Pavel wouldn't be laughing like this without Artyom there beside him, though.

Pyotr, starting to laugh, rubs his face and downs a gulp of water, and says, "Fuck-- but you had me going for a second--" then glances over, and sees what Pavel doesn't see, the look of longing as Artyom stares at the man between them. He doesn't say anything, just takes another gulp of water, and a bite of his food, and then promises Pavel, "Pashenka, I'm going to poison you and steal your job, you son of a bitch. Artyom, you can live, you're too young to die, yeah?"

Pavel says, between wheezes of laughter, "Well, as long as Artyom lives-- blyat-- take, haaaaahhh, take care of him, Petya."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/11/2018
Yeah, but of course Artyom doesn't quite see it that way, poor thing. He does get their joking around, though, specifically that alas, Pavel must be poisoned and die, and Pyotr will take his place. Playing along, Artyom places a hand over his heart, to look thankful that he's being thought on kindly, and preemptively mourning the loss of Pavel Morozov, may he rest in peace.

And then he giggles quietly, and goes to down the rest of his water, and in the back of his mind quietly hope that Pavel's fellow officers don't make much of a deal of Artyom's muteness.

itsAlana09/11/2018
Pyotr nods to his friend, and reaches around behind Pavel to pat Artyom's back, and says, "You'll need a new friend after I murder Pasha, so I guess that'll be me." He winks across at Artyom, and then gulps down the rest of his water. "Maybe I'll make him drink as much as I did last night, and the hangover will kill him, no poison needed," he mumbles, face scrunching up, laying into his food.

Still breathless from laughter, Pavel presses his face to Artyom's shoulder, arm still around him as he gently guffaws. "Well, I-- I guess-- taaaaktaktak, Petya is a better friend than some, yeah?" he says, right into Artyom's shoulder. "He warns you before poisoning you! What a pal!" That's maybe not the most tasteful joke Pavel has ever made, but he lifts his head and gives Artyom a lopsided grin. "Maybe you should go hang out with him, get used to him being your favorite, eh?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/11/2018
Artyom has a few more chuckles, blushing just a little at being treated nicely- Pavel was right, Pyotr seems like a nice guy. Maybe Artyom can make more friends. Maybe. Though, there is still a part of him that gets a bit... he refuses to accept that it's jealousy he feels, seeing Pavel and Pyotr together, but that's what it is, and it's becoming harder to deny.

Artyom makes a little bit of a face at Pavel's tasteless joke, but he gets over it the moment he sees that lopsided grin, and he can't help but smile back. If it weren't for that unending unease and shame and guilt constantly burning in his gut, he'd actually feel pretty happy. Still, he laughs softly, and shakes his head, and then goes to write on his clipboard, "It's not so simple to just replace Athos, to d'Artagnan."

itsAlana09/11/2018
He's jealous, but he's the one Pavel has his arm around, the one Pavel called on to help him fuck with his friend, the one Pavel stayed with when he was tired instead of going back out to hang out with Pyotr.... seems like Pyotr should be the jealous one, doesn't it?

Pavel leans in even closer, to read the clipboard, and makes a touched noise. "Yo moyo, Artyoooom, you'll make me blush," he complains, hand ruffling Artyom's hair, and tells Pyotr, "Sorry, comrade, I can't get poisoned today, it'd, uh, blyat, it'd make this guy sad and I can't be having that."

"Yeah, I can see that," Pyotr says, winking a bloodshot eye at Artyom. "But what kind of best friend are you, Pashenka, if you won't let me murder you? We might have to break it off, you son of a bitch."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/11/2018
Artyom blushes again as his hair is ruffled, laughing and turning his face away bashfully. He glances at Pyotr, though, and catches that wink, and his guts twist and he's not sure how he should feel, but some sort of primal fear he doesn't understand wells up in him- why? Pyotr is being nothing but friendly...

He takes a breath and calms himself, rolls it out of his lungs with a chuckle, smiling over at the two friends, a little bit of hope sitting in his heart. But then he writes again after a moment, whenever Pavel feels like looking. "Never did get an answer, though. What should I do today? I doubt I can tag along on your duties."

itsAlana09/11/2018
Pyotr leans across to read when Pavel looks down, and while Pavel is making thoughtful noises, Pyotr suggests, "I might be too sick to work today, you could nurse me back to health while Pavel scares the ensigns--"

"Sukaaa, you're not too sick to work today, you malingering fucker--" Pavel says, laughing, and Pyotr immediately swoons against him, coughing fakely.

"I think I have the clap, and malaria, and the plague," he whimpers, "I'd better stay in bed until this shit clears out--"

"Opaaaa, this is why you're still a major!" Pavel shoves him off with both hands, and Pyotr, laughing, pretends to die onto the table. "I see, I see, so you take sick days just to hang out with *my* friends? Is that how Ludmilla got pregnant a couple years ago--"

"That wasn't me, I told you!" the dying body of Pyotr protests, and kicks Pavel under the table, "she was seeing some Hansa trader! Anyways, *you* stayed behind and got out of work, it's only fair that I get a turn--"

"We'll see what Nikolai says about this," Pavel says, and flicks a look at Artyom, raising an eyebrow. Would Artyom like to spend a day hanging out with some lousy layabout malingering son of a bitch?

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/11/2018
Artyom might actually like to spend a day hanging out with some lousy layabout malingering son of a bitch! Though, a small part of him panics slightly at the mere prospect of having to be apart from Pavel, even when the logic makes sense, he's the one who brought it up- he tamps that down, while shame wells up stronger in him for being such a fucking freak like this.

He clears his throat a little, shrugs, and then nods, smiling at Pavel, and then over at Pyotr. He might as well take a day getting to know Pavel's friend, he's probably going to wind up seeing the guy a lot. And maybe that stupid jealous feeling will go away... or maybe it'll get worse. Who knows.

itsAlana09/11/2018
Pyotr grins at Artyom, and at Pavel, from where he's collapsed on the table. "You'll testify for me, right, Pasha?" he says, tone all sweet and wheedling, and Pavel grumps, affectionately, "I'll testify that you deserved it when I push you dick-first into a nosalis' gullet," which means yes. "Artyom, if he gives you too much shit, I'll beat him up for you, all right?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/11/2018
That gets Artyom giggling, and he's still giggling when Pavel jokes about beating Pyotr up for him. Artyom nods while chuckling into his hand. But then he calms, and sets his pencil back to paper to write, "Mind if I ask a favor?" And then, "Got anything I can shave with? It's been some days and I don't think I can pull off an actual beard."

itsAlana09/11/2018
"Pavel jokes, "No mountain man beard for our Artyom? It'll keep your chin warm in the winter--!"

Chiming in, Pyotr riffs on, "Catch food so you don't die in famine--"

"Make you look mature--"

"--Wear it around your shoulders like a scarf--"

"Petya can show you where they keep the razors in the officer's quarters, since he's going to be sick in there all day long." Pavel pats Petya's back, and tells him, "Eat up, fucker, you'll need your calories to fight off your plaguelaria." And for Artyom: "Anything else you need, or should I leave you to Pyotr's mercy?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/11/2018
That sets Artyom back into giggles, and it's the lightest he's felt in days. He still can't shake the dark feelings that plague him, but for a moment they're quieter, enough to let him laugh and feel light.

He nods as he calms down and catches his breath, looking forward to having a fresh shave. Then he waves Pavel off, shaking his head. Nah, he's good, he thinks. "Mh."

itsAlana09/11/2018
Pavel gives him a thumbs up, then leans towards Pyotr, whispering to him for a moment, face serious-- Artyom is free to wonder what he's saying, but he keeps his voice hushed for it, at least until he pulls back and finishes, with a glance towards Artyom, "And if you fucking lose him, I'm taking you to Venice and, uh, and feeding you to the shrimp."

"Mmmm, shrimp," Pyotr sighs, "I wish I had shrimp instead of rat..." and throws Pavel a lazy salute, barely more than a finger bopped to his forehead. "I'll play nice with your new best friend, Pasha, don't worry."

Pavel nods, and pats Artyom's back, and says, "I'm going to go find Sergei and Nikolai. See you later, Tyomik!" The hand migrates to Artyom's hair, and strokes it back, affection clear in Pavel's touch, in his pale eyes, in his lopsided plump-lipped smile. You know, like friends!

Then Pavel gets up, leaving his friends alone together, leaving Artyom under the hungover gaze of Pyotr.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/11/2018
Artyom can't help the burning curiosity wanting to know what Pavel is whispering to Pyotr- nor the wariness. The last time Pavel had gone and had private conversations involving gim hadn't ended so well. But he tells himself it's different this time, surely he's not giving Pyotr secret instructions to lead him to an alley and knock him out or something. The finish seems to indicate not, about feeding Pyotr to the shrimp if Artyom is lost, but Artyom is well aware of Pavel's way of acting.

He's promptly distracted from his paranoia, however, when a warm hand strokes through his hair, blue eyes and plump, crooked lips smiling down at him. His cheeks tint slightly, and he smiles back, and then Pavel is gone and it's just his friends at fhe table. Hope Pyotr doesn't mind if Artyom scooches into the (warm) spot Pavel just vacated, with a slight smile over towards him.

itsAlana09/11/2018
Pyotr smiles back, and says, "'Scuze me while I tuck into this glop, Artyom," and then tucks into the glop; it's not great but it's salty and fatty and assuaging his headache, which is all a man needs when he's hungover.

It's not long before his plate is clean, right down to swiping his finger across it and licking the remnants off his finger, and then he pushes the plate away, resting an elbow on the table and giving Artyom a once-over, considering.

(Inside his head, he evaluates Artyom, and comes up satisfied; he can see why Pavel's so clearly and desperately in love. Artyom laughs at his jokes, and doesn't seem to be that bad looking for a guy; what else could a bastard like Morozov want?)

After a moment, he says, "Let's go get you shaved, chuvak. Then we can think about what else to do during the day, yeah?" He bops Artyom lightly in the shoulder. "Unless you had some other idea. As long as it gets me out of work, I'm down for whatever shit you think of."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/11/2018
Oh, same, the food was tasteless, but it really did a number on Artyom's hangover, too. Ayways, he just sits in the quiet for a little bit, his cheer starting to fade, toying with his empty water cup. Artyom isn't blind to the fact he's being evaluated when Pyotr finishes eating and just looks at him, and Artyom glances back, looking just... tired.

And then the moment passes, and it's time to go get Artyom's face shaved and get rid of some of that hair. He nods, and smiles a little at the bop, and moves to get up, taking his clipboard with him and stuffing it into his jacket. He shrugs, though, unsure how else to answer. He didn't really have any ideas- he kinda thought he was going to be left in that room they were staying in, and he was just going to read or do a little writing, maybe mess with his guitar a bit.

itsAlana09/11/2018
"No desperate urge to go shooting rats or bait spider-bugs?" he asks, climbing to his feet and grinning at Artyom. "See the glories of the station's mushroom farms? Look at some cute new-born bacons? Tie all of the soldier's bootlaces to their bunk beds while they're being inspected? There's got to be something to do around here..."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/11/2018
Artyom snorts, and makes some very tempted looking expressions and very tempted sounding hmmms. He pauses a moment, to take his clipboard back out, to write on it. "I wouldn't mind being shown around, if it won't get you in trouble playing hookey."

He doesn't add that he's been here before, and didn't get a very good look around last time for... reasons. That might be tempting too much trouble.

itsAlana09/11/2018
Laughing, putting his arm around Artyom's shoulders like Pavel had not so long ago, he tells Artyom, "Oh, don't worry, they already know I'm a malingerer. I'm just too good to get rid of, especially now." He grins, and winks at Artyom. "Privilege of rank, you know? Now that the top brass is getting, uh... forcibly reorganized, let's call it, blyat, you can do whatever you want as long as you still get your shit done, and I get my shit done. And today, that shit is your shit, chuvak!" They're headed back to the room they'd all slept in the night before, Pyotr looking much better than he did when he first arrived in the cafeteria. "Now, this isn't really my station, but I bet we could find a kid who'll take some bullets to show us the sights. 'And over here, Officer sir, is a dark and poorly-lit alley, where my daddy waits with a knife sometimes...'"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/11/2018
Artyom welcomes the arm around his shoulder, which seems to lift his spirits a bit as they walk, Aryom holding his clipboard against his chest. He puts on a very 'minding my own damn business' expression at the mention of the 'reorganization' of the top brass, not wanting to look like he thinks it's his business. Which, it is, which is exactly why it shouldn't be. Pavel doesn't even fully trust Artyom yet, no reason to give him fuel for that halting trust.

He snorts, though, at the joke- oh, no, he really can see why Pavel likes Pyotr more and more, they're practically two peas in a pod, aren't they? It's almost like another Pavel. Which is a little weird. And also not entirely accurate, because there's still just something about Pavel that is so... special, and uniquely him, and that Artyom adores- he chokes slightly at that thought, but manages to spin it to just sounding like more of a chuckle coming off that earlier snort. God, what is wrong with him?

itsAlana09/11/2018
At least Pyotr doesn't look much like Pavel, his scars pockmarking his face instead of cutting across and above his eyebrows, his hair lighter and longer and his eyes darker and his jaw and nose skinnier, but his personality? Absolutely a match for his friend, and it's no wonder Pavel's fond of him. As a joined force, they'd be a terror to deal with...

Anyways, they arrive soon enough at the place where they'd slept (which is now empty of Sergeis and Nikolais of any kind), and Pyotr ushers Artyom in, and through a tiny door at the back of the room, almost hidden by the bunks-- there's a tiny powder room back here, with an almost clean mirror and a nearly steady electric light, and a shelf with a neatly folded straight razor and block of hand-made soap. "Here we go, Artyomik," he says, cheerfully, pushing him in, "don't slit your throat shaving or mine will be fucking next!" He'll leave Artyom to it, pulling back to fuss with his belongings and unearthing a stash of bullets from some pocket somewhere.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/11/2018
Artyom can only imagine what sort of amazingly fun terror they must be together- already he's had some experience that has been a bit of a riot, making him smile and laugh and feel light despite his otherwise unshakeable depressive state.

Anyways, he's shuffled back to the now-empty quarters, Pavel and the other two officers off doing actual work, and Artyom is shown to a previously unnoticed powder room where he can actually get a proper shave! He chuckles at Pyotr's joke as he takes up the soap and straight razor, giving him a 'don't worry about it' glance over the shoulder. He's shaved with worse! This is perfectly fine.


Anyways give him some minutes, and he'll emerge from the powder room with a much fresher face- he's usually a bit stubbly and scruffy with regrowth, but when he arrived here after his trip and not taking good care of himself, he was almost approaching proper facial hair in thickness. Now, though, until it grows back (give it some hours) he's all smooth-faced. Which, honestly, makes his slight youthful babyface more evident. Wait til Pavel sees...

itsAlana09/11/2018
Let's be real, Pavel's going to think its cute, though Pyotr, whistling as he shortsheets the cot Pavel had slept in the night before, glances up and says, "Heyyy, who let a kid in here? You gotta be fifteen or older to join the red line, chuvak--"

He's teasing, of course, and he laughs, waving Artyom closer. "You wanna help me with this, Artyom? I'm paying Pashenka back for making me think you were psychic..."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/11/2018
Artyom absolutely *pouts*, despite knowing it's a joke, and, like he had with Pavel the night before, he holds up four fingers, two from each hand- two and two, or, twenty-two- and then points at himself. He's twenty two! (okay actually he's only *almost* twenty-two but it's basically the same thing!)

But then he heads on over to the cot, and starts to help, his pout steadily being replaced with a mischievous smirk.

itsAlana09/11/2018
"Four years old? Blyat! Someone needs to find your parents, young man--" Pyotr jokes, laughing, and welcomes Artyom as an ally in mischief. Many hands make quick work, and they tuck the sheets into a new, much less comfortable arrangement-- and luxury is that there's enough sheets on the cot to do this-- and replace the blanket, hiding their work. "There we go," he says, cheerily, "all set to mess up his evening. I'd do it for the other guys, too, but Nikolai doesn't deserve it, and I'd like to live, so, eh-- Pavel gets to be the victim." He grins at Artyom, and sits on Pavel's cot, patting it to invite Artyom to join him in sitting for a moment. "You wanna see the nice parts of the station, or the bad parts?" he asks, cheerfully. "I'm pretty sure there's more of the second."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/11/2018
"Ugh!" and an eyeroll was all Artyom had to say to that, but he doesn't really mind, really. As he helps Pyotr set up this prank on poor, unsuspecting Pavel, Artyom starts to snicker quietly... What a devilish boy Artyom is, helping two friends prank each other! The true villain between the three of them, surely.

Still sniggering quietly, Artyom does as suggested, and comes over to sit down beside Pyotr on Pavel's cot. He retrieves his clipboard and sets it on his lap, and writes, "I think I'd rather see the first, if there's good parts to see." He simpers slightly with a shrug. "I think I've seen enough of the bad parts of stations for a while."

itsAlana09/11/2018
"The market's pretty cool-- I don't need any new guns, but they have some pretty special stuff down here..." he suggests, "and maybe we can find something nicer to eat than cafeteria sludge, eh?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/11/2018
"Mm!" Artyom nods, already thinking maybe he could get some customizations done to his pistol, or maybe getting a proper bite to eat... He kicks his feet a little, and smiles at Pyotr a bit expectantly- are they going now? Like this though, even clean-shaven, it's easy to see how tired Artyom is, how his usually slightly youth-rounded cheeks are a bit sunken, the slight lifelessness to his sleepy eyes, the dark circles under them... Poor guy has had it rough lately.

itsAlana09/11/2018
Pyotr will give him a gentle time of it, then, teasing him but never mean, taking him around to the vendors and haggling for him when he thinks Artyom is being swindled, paying for a meal of bacon-stuffed mushrooms and imported tea and generally giving Artyom a good time-- Artyom can probably guess that Pavel asked him to, but Pyotr also seems to genuinely think Artyom's a pretty nice kid, and enjoys the company of someone who thinks he's funny.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom starts to pick up on that he's being treated gently, that his paranoid thoughts were, in fact, wrong and that Pavel had probably just told Pyotr to be kind with him, because Pavel has seen how miserable he is. Not that it's difficult to tell for anyone who looks at him closely, with his supreme tiredness and morose demeanor.

A part of him wants to be insulted, like he's being treated as fragile and needing kid gloves, like he can't handle every day shit. But the rest of him just... appreciates the thoughtfulness and the kindness. From Pavel, for suggesting it, and from Pyotr for rolling with it. They're both... nice friends. Nice friends when you're not a threat to the party. Which he's not, anymore.

Artyom does think Pyotr is funny and chuckles at his jokes like he does with Pavel, looks a bit livelier when they manage to grab a decent porky snack, and Artyom looks both pleased and wistful, yet sadly longing and guilty at the tea, and doesnt leave a drop behind. He doesn't have much to say, mostly because moving around leaves little opportunity to write, but he's a damn good, attentive listener, looking at Pyotr (if with his face slightly turned to one side sometimes for some reason) and nodding and making noises to converse as best he can. He's still tired, with a moroseness he can't shake or shed, but he's a good kid, and good company if you don't mind covering most of the conversation.

itsAlana09/12/2018
They while away a few hours like that, and then Pyotr, as is inevitable when you're Russian, starts getting a hankering for a shot of vodka... they end up heading towards the bar, Pyotr sending Artyom with a handful of bullets to get a bottle to split. "I'm dying of plaguelaria, you see," he explains, settling at a table, "I'll die if I get the bartender sick."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom, as he is wont to be, is never one to argue against getting a drink or five, gladly taking the bullets with an eager, hungry look on his face. Ah, vodka, truly his greatest friend. Pyotr's joking, though, earns him a snort and an eyeroll and an 'oh you' look over Artyom's shoulder as he turns to head to the bar. A minute later, he's back with a bottle and a couple of cups to place on the table, and any leftover bullets to go back to Pyotr. Then he sits his cute tush down and rubs his hands together before grabbing that bottle to pour them both shots. Yesss.

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pyotr grins at Artyom when he returns, and asks him, "Hey, hey, d'you wanna chat? You could pull out your clipboard-- or does only Pavel get to talk to you?" as he tucks the bullets back into his pocket.  Then he takes his shot of vodka, with a happy sigh as he smacks the cup back down.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom looks sheepish for a moment, with a little embarrassed blush, and nods- but first he's gonna take his shot and refill his glass, before scooting his seat over so they're sitting a little closer together, then taking his clipboard from his coat, taking up one of the little pencil stubs. "I don't mind chatting with you like this." He writes, his handwriting very neat and easy to read, and his writing quick. And he says that, but he must admit it makes him slightly nervous. It always does, with someone new. "So long as you don't mind."

itsAlana09/12/2018
He shrugs, and says, "It's weird, but it's fine, yeah?" and bumps their shoulders together, with a smile at Artyom. "I just really wanna know--" and he pours himself another shot, tapping his fingers against his cup, "-- well, shit, Pavel said not to bother you too much, but he should give a dying man some leeway-- how'd you two meet?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom gives a small smile back at the bump, and takes up his cup to take another gulp- only to choke at the question. Shit, fuck, how is he supposed to answer that question? He could tell the truth- that they were both Nazi captives, that they banded together to escape, saved each other's lives. But he doesn't know how much Pavel had told the other Reds about the Ranger he'd met and arrested, if anyone else knows that the infamous Ranger that Pavel captured for Korbut met him in Nazi captivity...

"By chance, we both wound up in a pretty tight spot." He writes, deciding to be vague. He doesn't want to risk too much of the truth of who he is, who he was, getting out and making the Red Line dangerous for him. "If it weren't for his quick thinking, and getting me to cover his back, we both would've died."

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pyotr laughs, and says, "Ahhh, he's already told you the details are classified? Leave it to a spy to have all his bases covered..." He shakes his head, and pats Artyom's shoulder, grinning. "How about the other, what, four times you've saved his life? Or was it all in that story?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom simpers a little meekly, shrugging. Well, that works well enough. Maybe if Pyotr has other questions about that, Pavel can take the wheel. "We traveled together for a bit after that." He writes. He doesn't need to go into too much detail- no need to mention exactly where they were going and why, or how, exactly, they parted. "You know how the tunnels are, and the surface. In truth, I hadn't known him very long, just that short time we became partners to survive. And then we parted ways."

itsAlana09/12/2018
"Damn, Pasha works fast," Pyotr mutters, with a laugh into his cup, and then knocks it back. "Glad he made a good impression on you, chuvak, you seem like a good kid. Are you, uh, gonna stick around, or is this a passing visit?"

He suspects Artyom is gonna stick around, because he's seen how Artyom looks at his friend, how Pashenka touches Artyom's hair and neck, but it'll be interesting to hear it from the horse's mouth. Or read it from the horse's hoof?

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom finds himself blushing, and a little bit of panic wells up in him- what's that supposed to mean? And why does it make his heart want to beat itself out of his chest?? Pyotr almost makes it sound like he's some lovestruck waif caught up in Pavel's whirlwind- Artyom's gut tightens, and he has to take a breath and steady himself so he can focus, clear those thoughts away, and write.

"A hell of an impression, you could say. We became fast friends, almost immediately." He writes, biting his lip. "I intend to stay, yes. Now he's the only friend I have left, and I have no where else to go."

itsAlana09/12/2018
That sounds like Pavel, yeah, and Pyotr smiles at Artyom, eyes bright. "Well, that doesn't sound right, you've got another friend!" He bumps shoulders with Artyom, and asks, slyly, "Or am I chopped rat livers to you, eh?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
FRIEND ACQUIRED! Artyom's eyes widen slightly, and then he smiles, a real, soft one, and he looks all bashful. He lifts his cup to his lips, as if trying to hide his smile behind taking a drink, but it doesn't really work, not when it's still lifting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes. He sets his cup down after a moment, still smiling even as he licks his lips, before setting his pencil back to paper. "No, I would like that." His words say, and he crosses his ankles under the table. "Especially since you're his friend, too."

A pause, and then adding, "It's still why I came here, though. I couldn't stay where I was anymore, and he was the only person I could think to go to. I'm here now, probably for good."

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pyotr nods, and says, fondly, "Don't tell Pashenka I said this, but he's a real good guy if he's on your side. You'll be safe with him, yeah?" He grins at Artyom. "Safe from everything but his sense of humor, at least-- so, you know, plenty of reason to go find someone else to hang out with." Pyotr, you have practically the same sense of humor!

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom smiles again, fiddling his pencil between his fingertips, nodding a little. Yeah, he'll have to agree with that. It's... he's really glad Pavel is here, is letting him in, is helping him, taking this risk. He didn't have to. But he has. And Artyom wants to trust that there really is no ulterior motive there.

"You're one to talk." He writes after a moment. "Does Pavel get his sense of humor from you, or is it the other way around?"

And then after a moment, he adds, "Good thing I happen to like that humor."

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pyotr claims, proudly, "Oh, he gets it from me, definitely," which may or may not be true, and its likeliness of truth goes down as Pyotr elaborates, "Once, he was a serious and humorless young man, and then I took him into my Humor Training School-- he went from unable to crack a smile to a black-belt in banter, all under the tutelage of the funniest man in the Metro." He sips another sip of vodka, and adds, on the verge of laughter, "I'm taking new students, by the way, and Sergei refuses to enroll--"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom actually voices aloud, a very disbelieving sounding, "Uh huh..." before snickering, and refilling his glass to take another shot- and then filling it again. "I think my sense of humor is perfectly fine." He writes, a smirk on his face. "I don't make a lot of jokes, and I obviously don't banter much, but I think I have a healthy appreciation for it."

He takes a sip of his vodka, and then writes a little more. "It puts me at ease."

itsAlana09/12/2018
"I suppose every comedian needs a straight man," Pyotr says, and then laughs like that was a joke, too, tousling Artyom's hair. The joke is that Artyom's clearly in love, which Pyotr can tell because he has eyes. "Or at least an audience, eh? And you're a pretty good audience, Tyomik."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Alas, that joke is lost on Artyom, but Pyotr is absolutely correct. Artyom is not a straight man, he is very, very gay, and very, very in love with Pyotr's friend. He smiles, though. "Thanks, I try." He writes, kicking his crossed feet under the table slightly. "Not a lot of people like to talk to someone who doesn't talk back. I try to respond as I can. But I like to listen."

itsAlana09/12/2018
"And lucky for you, we like the sounds of our own voices," Pyotr says, pouring them both fresh shots and lifting his cup in a toast. "Here's to never being able to shut up, and the friends who tolerate it!"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom chuckles, and then laughs properly at the toast, raising his glass with Pyotr's, tapping them together with a quiet "hah!" before downing his drink. And then, of course, promptly refilling it. Someone stop him or he *will* just keep drinking until he gets sick or passes out. That's how the Artyom do.

itsAlana09/12/2018
Lucky for Artyom, this is when the man of the hour appears, the officers who didn't """get sick""" strolling by the bar and Nikolai noticing Artyom and Pyotr. After a word to Pavel and a moment of discussion, Pavel peels off from the group, sneaking up behind Artyom and resting his elbows on Artyom's shoulders, leaning against him. "Artyomuchka! Petya! You started drinking without the rest of us? Yo moyo, I see what our friendship means to you," he teases, grinning at Pyotr, his hands linked atop Artyom's head, warm and friendly. "Did you two save any for your best friend in the world?"

"No," Pyotr says, and takes the bottle up, moving like he's gonna chug the rest like it's beer-- Pavel makes an objecting noise and leans against Artyom, swiping a hand to try and rescue the bottle from his friend, his warm body pressed against Artyom's shoulders and back.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom had just lifted his glass for another gulp when sneaky Pavel's elbows suddenly land on his shoulders, and he makes a choked noise of surprise- Ah! It's Pavel! Artyom smiles a moment- but, ah, it's Pavel, who is very much making an arm rest out of him, leaning against him, elbows on his shoulders and hands atop his head, and very, very warm against his back and his head. Artyom starts to heat up too, his cheeks going pink, and he says, "Um," while Pyotr claims the bottle.

And of course Pavel won't take that standing down, so he leans over Artyom- against Artyom- as he tries to swipe that bottle, and Artyom is very smothered in very Pavel, and his face and his gut feel awfully warm, his heart pounding, his breath catching. God, what the hell is wrong with him?? He's frozen, eyes wide, mind racing, trying to get him to do something, act natural, stop acting like a dumbstruck freak who swoons when his friend is against him like some sort of-

Artyom lunges suddenly, snatching the bottle from Pyotr and Pavel both, and wastes not a moment in bringing it to his lips, tipping it and his head back to take a few gulps like a madman.

itsAlana09/12/2018
"Hey!" they both object, in chorus, but Pavel laughs and then so does Pyotr, Pavel straightening back up and Pyotr giving Artyom a strangely knowing smirk. "You'll catch Pyotr's malaria like that-- but you always were a risk-taker, weren't you?" Pavel jokes, ruffling Artyom's hair before dragging a chair over to join them.

"Was he! That sounds like a story-- if it's not classified," Pyotr says, grinning at them both. "Do you know, Artyom won't tell me how you two met?"

"I told you not to ask him!" Pavel says, rolling his eyes at his friend as he drops into his seat, but can't help but boast, "But he was pretty cool, I can tell you that much."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
"Mmmhmmm." Artyom hums into the bottle as he takes his few gulps, before finally setting (and by setting I mean triumphantly slamming) the bottle down on the table. He sways a bit, as he is both blessed and cursed that alcohol enters his system immediately upon consumption, and whew is he feeling it. He's only half paying attention to the conversation, until it hits him that Pyotr is trying to weasel the answers Artyom wouldn't (couldn't) give him earlier out of Pavel. He raises his eyebrows and decides Pavel can field that all he likes!

And then he fields it by saying Artyom was pretty cool. His cheeks are already pinkening from the alcohol, but they flush a little bit more, and he clears his throat. Then he takes up his pencil, and scrawls in a slightly messier script (poor thing might already be drunk!) "You were pretty cool yourself."

itsAlana09/12/2018
"I-- was I? Well, shit, if you say it's true, priyatel," Pavel says, smiling fondly at Artyom, reaching out to take the bottle and inspect it-- did Artyom leave any for him?

Pyotr, laughing, teases Artyom, "You don't have to lie for Pashenka's sake, I already know he's never been cool."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom left some! He could only take a few gulps, after all. The little lightweight would probably die if he had any more at once. He blinks a bit heavily, swaying in his seat as what he drank sets in further, but he's at least not catatonic. He snorts at Pyotr's joke, but... Even a joke, he won't just sit and take that on Pavel's behalf!

So he takes his pencil up again, and writes, a bit sloppier now, "No, you're wrong. He was cool! He was amazing. He acted like a real hero."

itsAlana09/12/2018
"This Pasha? Our Pasha? Amazing and cool?" Pyotr prods, and the sly, knowing look is crossing his face. "I don't believe it! What did he do to impress you so, Artyom?"

Pavel, drinking from the bottle, makes a little objecting sound, because he's pretty sure Pyotr is trying to get Backstory out of Artyom.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Pyotr might get it if they're not careful- Artyom is losing himself a little to alcohol, his handwriting messy, his balance unsteady, cheeks pink, and his pencil loose. "He saved my life." He writes. "A bunch. Swinging from ropes over gaps and setting fire to spiderbugs andand demons and watchmen, quick and clever."

He at least hasn't lost sense enough to mention the Nazis, but Pavel might want to take the wheel before he gets there. "I thought he was a real hero. He was a hero to me."

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pyotr's knowing look gets all the more knowing, and he says, "Pashenka, it sounds like you have a fan! With all that, I'm surprised he didn't follow you home sooner, my friend."

Pavel, leaning in to read what Artyom wrote, looks a little pink himself, and he says, "Eh, Artyom had some stuff he had to deal with, I had assignments, you know how it is. Sometimes friendships are like-- like trains going to different stations, eh? They might run the same tracks for a while, but..."

"But now Artyom's riding your line?" Pyotr says, waggling his eyebrows, and Pavel laughs, kicking him under the table.

"Don't say it like that, suka!"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom blushes slightly, looking bashful now, because Pyotr's not wrong, he really does sound like some kind of fanboy. He clears his throat and looks down a bit guiltily, biting his lip... But then what Pyotr says, that he didn't follow Pavel home, and Pavel's response... Ah, that hits close to home in a way that makes his heart ache. Ache for what could have been, ache for what was lost between them, trust that isn't truly there anymore.

Trains going to different stations, that only run on the same tracks for a little while... Indeed. Artyom has to take a drink at that sobering thought.

And Pyotr drags Artyom out of his melancholy with a particularly crude implication, and Artyom chokes and sputters into his cup, his face going red. And then he just sort of... shuts down a bit, panic flooding him, his eyes wide, heart hammering against his ribs and stomach twisting. And then he recovers from his brief blue screen, and coughs, wiping his mouth before taking another drink. God, he thinks he might know what's wrong with him, but he doesn't want to.

itsAlana09/12/2018
"Look, you almost killed Artyom!" Pavel complains, patting Artyom's back as he chokes on his drink. "Blyat, how could you? I asked you to be nice to him, and, and this is what you do!"

Pyotr is laughing, and pats Artyom's back, too, and says, "He's the one who's drinking around a joker! It's his own fault." He puts an arm around Artyom, and looks at him sidelong-- hmm, maybe he wasn't supposed to know, if Pavel's denying it-- and says, "Anyways, it was *your* metaphor, Pashenka. So it's your fault I made the joke."

And Artyom, poor boy, gets a hair ruffle, friendly as hell-- clearly, if Pyotr thinks Artyom is gay, he doesn't actually care-- and Pavel says, "Hey, fuck you, Petya!" and kicks him under the table again.

Poor drunk gay Artyom gets to enjoy his old friend and his new friend friendly-squabbling around him for a few minutes while he recovers his composure.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom is reassured, at least, that if Pyotr isn't joking, he apparently thinks little of it... But he's probably joking. It was a joke.  Definitely. But... it doesn't change Artyom's internal panic as he's starting to put together pieces of a puzzle against his will, even as he tries to pry the pieces back apart. He doesn't want to think about this. He *doesn't* want to think about *this*.

He gives a half hearted smile at Pyotr, but it fades again from Artyom's internal turmoil thoroughly fucking him over. He looks down into his cup as Pavel and Pyotr playfully bicker over his head, his head swimming and heart thumping and gut clenching. God, what if he's right? What if Artyom is some kind of freak that- that's sexually obsessed with Pavel, if his obsession has come this far, how sick would that be- he's sick-

He finishes off his cup with a last gulp, and sets it down to stare back down into it as he sways drunkenly in his seat, his mind racing, unable to settle on any one thing in his completely fucked up mental state, of all that's wrong with him, until through the hurricane of his disgust, all he can think about suddenly is how warm Pavel feels whenever they touch, his hand or his arm or his torso against Artyom's back, and God, fuck, why is he like this, why is he so sick, he's sick, he- he feels sick. He's gonna be sick.

Artyom abruptly stands up and shoves himself from the table, hand going to his mouth as he retches, hazy eyes darting about as he unsteadily stumbles through the bar, trying to find someplace to safely vomit before he loses it on the spot, that would suck.

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pyotr is abandoned at the table as Pavel jumps up after Artyom, alarmed-- aww, blyat, he shouldn't have had so much so fast, Pavel should have been watching him--and hurries to direct him to the bartender with a hand at the small of his back, calling, "Bucket, bucket, we need a bucket--"

The bartender produces one from under the bar, and Pavel pushes Artyom towards it, hand still on his back.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Let's be real, even if Pavel wasn't calling for a bucket, Artyom's retching as he's led to the bartender probably would've done the job. But a bucket is here to save the day, and the floor, and Artyom's clothes, as he dispenses his stomach contents into it with some pretty gross noises.

So much for that snack earlier.

Don't mind him, he's just going to be gross for several minutes while Pavel worries beside him, his warm hand against Artyom's back and making him feel warm, and sick, sicker. He recovers eventually, though, mostly when he runs out of stuff to hurl up and just retches dryly for a minute before his gut gives up and deigns to give him mercy.

Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Artyom gives a very succinct "Ugh."

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pavel is patient through it, hand warm and presence warm and his smile at Artyom's ugh warm-- it's like he cares or something!-- and says, "Yeah, that didn't sound too fun. Had too much, Artyomik?" His hand pets Artyom's hair back from his face, and he feels his forehead, and asks the bartender, "Can we get a little water for my sick friend?" before joking, gently, "Or did Petya give you his plague? That fucker, getting you sick, can you believe it?"

Pavel is being so nice to Artyom... it's probably not helping, is it?

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom replies with a sullen sounding "Mmrgh." He feels warm, too warm, with Pavel's warm hand and warm presence and warm smile and warm kindness... it's helping, but it's not helping, it makes him feel good, and he hates that it does, and it makes him feel ill. This whole mess just seems to get worse and worse. He didn't exactly think things would get better by turning traitor and running to Pavel in the Red Line, but... He'd hoped, perhaps, that having Pavel present would at least lessen his presence in Artyom's mind, not deepen his unhealthy obsession.

He looks miserably at Pavel, the joke not cheering him this time, and he sighs, even as his hair is pet and his forehead is touched, and he feels an urge to lean into those touches, push himself into Pavel's arms, and he wants it so bad and hates it.

itsAlana09/12/2018
The bartender appears again with a big mug of water, and Pavel gives him a nod and a couple of bullets, then holds the mug up for Artyom. "Come on, chuvak, wash that taste out of your mouth," he says, soft, "vodka tastes worse coming up than coming down, doesn't it?" There's a little worry in Pavel's pale eyes, but a smile around his mouth; Pyotr has stayed at their table, but he's watching them, a line between his eyebrows as he Observes.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
"Euch." Artyom's nose scrunches. You're not wrong, Pavel, definitely much worse up than down. Just let him refill his tummy with some large gulps of water, chugging it more carefully than he had the vodka earlier. He appreciates the concern and care, at least, even if it keeps his cheeks pink and his heart thumping and his mind racing. No wonder he couldn't be a good husband or a good father, if he could fall this low in his obsession...

He stops drinking to sigh and catch his breath, feeling a little better already, at least physically. But now he knows he's going to be hungry within the hour. Still, he looks up at Pavel with tired, miserable, but definitely grateful bottle-green eyes, hoping Pavel can understand his silent 'thank you'.

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pavel answers the grateful look with a think-nothing-of-it dismissive wave, though he still looks a little worried, still hovers over Artyom. "You wanna go lay down, d'Artagnan? I can grab your pencil and shit, kick Pyotr out to go work on things if you need some quiet..."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Oh, God, yeah, he would love to lay down, actually. That sounds perfect. He nodnodnods, and actually smiles- okay, it's only a half smile while the other half is a grimace, but it's an attempt, and it's a very grateful looking one. He's just gonna wobble here for a moment and sip at his water while Pavel grabs his things. Artyom glances over at Pyotr, and gives him a half smile, too, this time an apologetic one.

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pyotr smiles back, and shrugs. Lay down if you need to, Artyom, Pyotr will live without your company-- he makes a remark to Pavel that Artyom can't hear, and Pavel chuckles, bapping the top of his head with Artyom's clipboard before shooing him away. Then Pavel returns, Artyom's clipboard in one hand, and asks, "You need a shoulder, d'Artagnan? Or can you walk on your own?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom raises an eyebrow at the exchange, curious, but he won't bother to ask. If it's something he needs to know, it'll probably come up. Probably. His eyebrow is still raised when he watches Pavel return to him, though he lets it drop when he gratefully accepts his clipboard, tucking it into his jacket.

His heart thumps against his ribs at Pavel's suggestion, and he cusses at himself in his head- don't be like this, he offered just a *shoulder*, like he would any other friend, stop being like this. He shakes his head, and starts forward- and then wobbles, and reaches automatically for Pavel, to grab at the elbow of his jacket to steady himself.

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pavel rolls his eyes at Artyom, with a soft huff of laughter. "Okay, come on, tough guy," he says, fondly exasperated, grabbing Artyom's arm and putting it around him, putting his own arm around Artyom's shoulders, "let's get you to a flat surface before you fall on somebody."

Sorry, Artyom! Your gay will only increase!!

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
"Uh!" Artyom was prepared to just hang onto Pavel's elbow and wobble along beside him, but like this- He flushes, and all he can think about for a moment is how warm Pavel is. And then all he can think about is the other times he's been held against Pavel's side, Pavel pulling him from Nazi clutches when he was shot, the two of them swinging across a gap together...

He makes a low, slightly flustered noise in his throat, looking ashamed and longing both as he lets Pavel support him away from the bar, Artyom's steps uneven and his knees like jelly, but Pavel's help makes it inconsequential. At least Pavel didn't just straight up pick him up and carry him...

itsAlana09/12/2018
Unfortunately, Pavel is keeping his eyes forward, mostly, and when he glances at Artyom he sees dark hair, not his friend's expression...

But, hey, if he WANTS Pavel to try carrying him, all he has to do is stumble a little harder, fall too much for Pavel to support, and he'd get the wish he doesn't want to come true! Wouldn't that be fun!

In the meanwhile, though, Pavel will softly chat at him, tell him that they'll be leaving this station later tonight, probably, but there's still a few hours before they start getting ready, if he wants to rest the entire time Pavel will pack something for him to eat on the way out-- they're getting a powered car this time, though it's not a real train, so Artyom can rest on that too-- and Artyom does need some rest, the bags under his eyes need to be unpacked, yeah?

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Yeah well MAYBE HE WILL because I am a mean, mean Byrd who likes to tormet Artyom with how Gay and In Love he is!!! All it takes is a little uneven ground, or a misplaced cable or something, or any number of thing for his boot to catch on... He was innocently nodding along as Pavel chatted softly at him, because yeah, he should probably rest more, it's already been a couple days but he's still so, so tired, tired through his bones and down to his waning soul.

And then the toe of his boot catches on something underfoot, and Artyom stumbles from the trip, but his legs are too unruly and drunk to right themselves, and he all but falls if it weren't for his arm around Pavel's shoulder, though Pavel now has an entire skinny boy's gravity weighing him down on one side suddenly. "Ngh!"

itsAlana09/12/2018
"Blyat!" Pavel spits, stumbling along with Artyom, and then laughs, hauling him back upright but stopping. "Okay, okay, priyatel, you were doing great for a while there, but I'm not going to, uh, to let you break my neck, you know?" he says, fondly, and then Artyom is getting hefted into Pavel's arms, in a comfortable bridal carry, because Pavel's already got an arm around him and why not?

"Here we go, all aboard the Morozov Express, next stop: Naptime Station," he says, and Artyom is now riding his line, as it were, Pavel giving him a grin and adding, "Shit, priyatel, you did eat this morning, didn't you? You weigh about as much as your guitar!"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom makes little noises of protest the moment he realizes what Pavel is doing, squirming, no, let him stay on his feet, it was just one stumble, he doesn't need to be carried- but alas! It is too late, and Artyom is held like a bride in Pavel's arms, and he could probably die. He groans, covering his face with his hands in utter shame and embarrassment, flushing under them, even up to his unhidden ears.

His heart might wear out at this rate, the way it jumps and flutters in his chest, and his stomach under it is doing backflips. He hates this. He loves this and he hates that he loves it, that he's craving it, that he just wants to lean into Pavel's warmth and the safety his presence offers and stay there forever and forget about the rest of the world, the rest of the Metro, his principles, his wife, his son, everything he fought for-

He takes a breath, and lowers his hands by dragging them down his face so he can glower at Pavel, and then give him an unsubtle reminder by sticking his tongue out with his mouth open and pointing into it with a gross false retching noise. Friendly reminder he lost his lunch, literally!

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pavel huffs a laugh, and says, "Yeah, yeah, I'll just have to feed you more then, huh?" with a smile. And away they go, Pavel's heart beating against Artyom as he carries his friend away to bed.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom sighs, and has no choice but to settle in for the brief ride, as miserable and joyful both that it makes him. He's completely and utterly ashamed and disgusted with himself for how badly he wants to just... stay like this, how badly he wants to sink into Pavel's embrace and how safe and happy it'd make him feel, how much longing he has for such closeness.

He finds himself subconsciously leaning into Pavel as he's carried, his head falling against the man's shoulder. It helps that being so drunk and having had a bit of a sick kinda exhausted him a little on top of his soul-deep exhaustion. His eyes are drooping by the time they arrive at the room they were staying, his skinny body in all its oversized layers limp in Pavel's arms.

itsAlana09/12/2018
"He-e-e-eavy," Pavel complains as Artyom goes limp, despite his previous accusation of lightness, but his voice is barely above a whisper, and he shoulders into the room when they reach it, smiling down at his exhausted friend. Fuck, he likes Artyom so much. It's just... great, to be around him, it really is, it warms Pavel's heart even through his concern for his friend, and he lays him down carefully on one of the cots, hand going to affectionately pet his hair back from his flushed face. "There we go, d'Artagnan," he murmurs, "get some rest, all right?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
"Mmf." Artyom gives a quiet noise of confirmation as he's settled onto the bed, nodding a little. Aside from the turmoil inside him, which is constant enough that it's sometimes ignorable, he's fairly comfortable now, and he sighs as he rolls over onto his side. Just in case he gets sick again. "Mmhm..."

By the way, Pavel, have you seen Artyom's fresh shave? His cheeks and jaw all smooth and clean, seen how cute he looks like this, so young with that tiny hint of youthful pudge to his cheeks that even the recent slight sunkenness can't truly defeat... His dark lashes as they come to rest against his cheeks as his eyes close, that little mole on his right cheekbone...

itsAlana09/12/2018
Now that they're alone, now that Artyom's eyes are closed, now that he's not distracted by Pyotr-- yeah, he's seeing it, and his hand cups Artyom's clean cheek, his eyes admire it, his heart is warm for this young man, so brave and talented, who came to *him* of all people...

"Sweet dreams, my friend," he murmurs, and runs his fingers back, through Artyom's hair, before pulling a little away, siting on the cot he'd slept in the night before, watching Artyom with contemplative quiet.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Pavel might appreciate that for just a moment, Artyom's head turns a little, leaning into that hand on his cheek, nuzzling at it, unable to resist the warmth and affection, not when he's mostly asleep and his mind, for once, is quiet. He sighs softly as those fingers comb briefly through his hair, and goes still, falling fast into sleep.

And once Artyom is asleep, he's all but dead to the world, barely moving save for the subtle motion of his torso as he breathes, a complete log. At least he doesn't need to puke suddenly again or anything. Pavel is free to watch him sleep and have feelings until it's time for Artyom to wake up. Which, honestly, he won't on his own, you'll have to wake him.

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pavel will pile blankets from all the cots on Artyom, discover that SOMEBODY tried to short-sheet his cot, and spend a while sitting by Artyom, devising revenges for a prank that he never fell to-- and maybe spend some time petting Artyom's hair, sitting by him and whispering to his sleeping friend, whispering that he's glad to see him, that he never meant for things to go the way they did, that he hopes Artyom will be happy here, once he settles in...

Pavel, that's a little gay!

After a while, he carries off Artyom's bags to the cart they'll be taking out of Armory, back to Revolution, packs up dinners for all five of them, and then, when everything's all ready to go, wakes Artyom up with a gentle shake of his shoulder and a big canteen of water on offer for his friend. "Hey, Artyom," he murmurs, "it's about time to wake up, you feeling better?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Not somebody, but somebodies! Your friends are both after you, Pavel! And while Pavel plots possible revenges as he pets Artyom's hair and whispers soft, kind things to his friend, the boy sleeps on, comfortable and safe and having kind dreams. Dreams that feature the very man petting his hair, dreams that may be reflecting his actual reality, of being spoken to sweetly and touched affectionately. But Pavel has already plagued Artyom's dreams for a while now, even dreams of what Artyom liked about him, his smiles and his jokes, but never quite like this...

The both of them are pretty gay!

But Artyom can't sleep forever- at least, not in this cot. Maybe he can get back to sleep on the cart. When his shoulder is shaken gently, he groans, and stirs to wakefulness, his mouth dry and his head aching. But when he opens his eyes, what greets him is Pavel's round, friendly face and a big canteen of water. And no amount of headache and gross mouth can stop that sight on waking from making the boy smile. Sitting up, he takes the canteen and gulps some water down, and then smiles at Pavel again, nodding. He's a little achey, but definitely not sick anymore!

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pavel smiles at him, and ruffles his hair, and says, "Good, 'cause they're, uh, waiting for us, actually. I should've woken you up sooner..." He laughs, offering Artyom a hand to hoist him up, and says, "Did you know Petya tried to short-sheet me? What an asshole, right? Good thing plans changed!"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
"Oh." He says softly, and looks a bit guilty, biting his lip. He didn't mean to sleep so long... He's just a heavy sleeper, is all. He looks up at Pavel with such apologetic green eyes, and then rolls off the cot and onto his feet. He's a little unsteady for a moment, but his balance catches up to him as he gets used to his legs again.

The commentary about the short-sheeting, though, that gets Artyom to choke a little as he was taking another drink from the canteen, followed by snickering. Artyom glances over at Pavel with such a mischievous look on his face!

itsAlana09/12/2018
"Artyom!" Pavel squints at him, and says, in mock-offense, "You! My own d'Artagnan, backstabbing me! You did that? How could you? Blyat!" He slings his arm around Artyom, and noogies him, the cruelest of tortures. "I ought to, to, to throw you out on your ass, betraying me, teaming up with the enemy!" he complains, and starts steering Artyom out of the room.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom can't help but snicker and giggle, only to make a hilarious noise when he's surprised with a noogie, making him wriggle and try to squirm his way out of Pavel's grasp. "Guh!" But oh no! He's being steered along instead, and he laughs, suddenly so much cheerier than he was earlier after he'd lost his lunch.

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pavel laughs, too, and says, "I'm gonna let you off you on good behavior, but you're, you're on thin fucking ice, chuvak." He winks at Artyom, and keeps his arm around him-- you know, leading him to the tracks, he doesn't want Artyom to get lost.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom laughs some more, before calming and catching his breath and straightening his face out to look up at Pavel with the Most Innocent look on his face. Look at him! An angel! He could never do anything wrong! Ahhh, Pavel's arm around him, though, that's nice, and he feels so warm and comfortable with it around him- ah, and there's the shame. The shame and the guilt, and it makes his cheeriness start to fade as they walk together.

itsAlana09/12/2018
Artyom is NOT an angel and Pavel will NOT be deceived, but he might tip his head at Artyom, mouth quirked, and ask, "Taaaaktaktak... Do you wanna make it up to me, Artyomuchka?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom is distracted from his melancholy for the moment by Pavel's question, and he raises an eyebrow for a moment. Oh, jeeze, what on Earth could Pavel have in mind to 'make up' for short-sheeting him? With a slight smirk, Artyom nods. Sure, Pavel, he'd love to make it up to you like the ANGEL he is!

itsAlana09/12/2018
They're getting close to the tracks, and the officers are coming into view, so Pavel leans in conspiratorially towards Artyom and whispers in his ear, "Can you help me figure out something to prank him back with?" and nods at Pyotr, standing on the cart and waving a hand at them.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom waves back at Pyotr when he spots him, smiling- but his smile grows as Pavel whispers in his ear, and he snickers mischievously, looking over at Pavel and nodding. Oh, yes, he will *happily* help prank Pyotr.

Funny, Artyom is the common denominator in pranking both these men, yet they still keep requesting his aid instead of getting revenge on *him*.

itsAlana09/12/2018
Well, it's because Pavel is gay and Pyotr likes him, actually. Sorry, Artyom, you'll just have to deal with it!

"Suka blyat, what are you fuckers planning?" Pyotr asks, grinning at them as they get into earshot. "Nikolai is here, so it better not be anything that'll get me in trouble..."

"You're not already in trouble?" Pavel asks Pyotr, and shakes his head sadly. "He must have a soft spot for ugly sons of bitches, eh? Poor Nikolai, having such bad taste..." He pushes Artyom forward, to board the cart, and Pyotr gives him a hand up, smiling at him.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom will deal with it by happily pranking his friends and pretending to be an angel and never getting any consequences from it. Such a burden!

Artyom is all chuckles at the two jokers as he heads to the cart, accepting Pyotr's help up and finding himself a place to sit- are his bags somewhere he can get to them? He's feeling a little awake, and would like to play a little music, maybe.

There is the distinct possibility he's hoping to impress his new friend.

itsAlana09/12/2018
Everything is stowed under the benches, which take up the front half of the cart, except Artyom's guitar, settled on an unoccupied bench like an extra companion. It's clear that Pavel packed Artyom's stuff into the cart, if he left the guitar out...

The back half of the cart is an obviously cobbled-together boiler, with Sergei tending the coal fire inside the utterly normal stove someone knocked the legs off of to use as a heating system for their steam-powered cart. It's a pretty clever looking contraption, but Sergei is swearing at it, clearly wishing it was electric or gas-powered (by him cursing it out for not being something more convenient).

Nikolai is cleaning a gun, and gives Artyom a serious nod as Pyotr and Pavel find seats, and Pavel says, "If you wanna go back to sleep, Artyom, I think we can handle these tunnels-- they're pretty safe, you know."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Looking around the cart, Artyom returns Nikolai's nod and raises an eyebrow at Sergei, and then... spots the guitar, and he can't help but smile and feel awfully warm. He knows, immediately, who packed his stuff onto the cart, to have set his guitar so carefully like that. He glances over at Pavel to turn that smile to him, and shake his head. He'll nap in a bit, probably, but right now he's riding an odd sort of high, and he wants to make music with it.

Artyom settles on the bench with his guitar, setting it in his lap, and starts fiddling with the strings, working on tuning it for a minute while they get the cart set off.

itsAlana09/12/2018
That high is called being in love, and Artyom has it bad.

Pavel brightens up visibly when Artyom starts playing around with his guitar, but he doesn't say anything, just smiles his lopsided smile and settles in to enjoy the music; Pyotr isn't quite so quiet, and asks, "Ahh, are you gonna play?" with a delighted note in his voice.

"Don't play too loud, we don't want to attract any mutants," Nikolai says, but that's not much discouragement, and he glances up to watch, hands still cleaning his gun without needing to look; Sergei's grumblings behind them all taper off as the cart starts moving, slowly trundling along the track.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom sends a smile Pavel's way for a moment, and then returns to concentrate on his guitar- for a whole couple of seconds, because Pyotr speaks up, and Artyom lifts his head to grin and nod in affirmative. Feeling satisfied with the tuning of his guitar, Artyom starts to strum, finding a rhythm he likes, and then starts to play.

It's only a little different from how he'd played on the handcart with Pavel and those two women. It has a little more energy, and a smidge more cheer- but only a little, because Artyom has been taught on the guitars of the Metro, his joining the chorus, fed on melancholy and longing. But it sounds nice, and that's enough.

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pavel leans back, enjoying the music, and Pyotr leans close to him, whispering in his friend's ear, "This one's a keeper, Pashenka. If you're not keeping him, I will," earning himself a soft laugh and a smack on the arm.

So they go a while, the cart probably slower than a handcar but less work, the communist officers enjoying Artyom's music as they roll through the quiet belly of Moscow. Pavel's eyes never leave Artyom, and Pyotr keeps his commentary to himself, around his superior officers-- but he looks pretty pleased all around.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
That comment outright makes Artyom blush, and he messes up a little on a note, before rolling with it and blending it into his tune. He glances over at the two of them, looking a bit flustered, before looking back down at his strings, to distract himself.

He plays for a good while, and if it pleases Nikolai, his songs are mellow and never too loud. But eventually, the music must sadly come to an end, the chords fading into quiet and the sound replaced by Artyom yawning into his hand. Someone needs another nap!

itsAlana09/12/2018
That does please Nikolai, and Artyom gets a small smile from the serious man when his last notes start to fade. Pavel's also smiling as he says, "Ahhh, priyatel, you want some food before you pass out again?" and leans down to dig under the bench he's on, looking for the dinner he'd packed-- smoked rat meat and mushroom flour biscuits, and a jug of water and tin cups, opening the tin box he'd packed the food in before passing it across to Artyom.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
"Mmh-" Artyom is nodding, setting his guitar aside, but Pavel didn't even wait for an answer, already fetching his underfed friend a meal. Pavel really has been doting on him this last day, which hasn't escaped Artyom's notice. He gives Pavel a thankful smile as he accepts his packed dinner, to nibble on quietly as he leans back in his seat.

Pavel really has been... so good to him. Is it out of regret, for the betrayal not so long ago? A wish to make up for what they'd lost then? As much as he still can't help but be ashamed for feeling this way, he's quietly pleased that Pavel seems to like him so much, so eager to make him comfortable and happier when he's so obviously morose. There had always been a part of him that feared that he'd still misinterpreted things in the end, that the little Dark One misunderstood, that Pavel hadn't cared nearly as much as he acted, that Pavel wouldn't care as much if Artyom showed up at his doorstep like he did.

But no. Pavel really does seem to care. He smiles at Artyom, is affectionate with him, speaks kindly of him, asks for kindness on his behalf, looks out for him... He never had to do any of that. He never even had to take Artyom in, but even that bare minimum could've been enough, but he's already gone above and beyond in such a short time, and it makes Artyom feel... warm. Warm, despite the guilt and shame that accompanies it thanks to it's source. And he manages to smile as he nibbles his dinner away.

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pavel does care. He cares a lot. It's so blatant how much he cares that Pyotr is making jokes about Pavel "keeping" Artyom like Artyom's someone he's dating, and Pavel isn't even really telling Pyotr he's wrong, he cares so much about Artyom.

He pours Artyom a cup of water, and gets up to set it on the bench next to him, then asks everyone else, "Anyone else want dinner?" and passes out more boxes to Sergei and Pyotr-- Nikolai waves his off, and Pavel shrugs and settles down... on the same bench as Artyom, instead of next to Pyotr again, to steal one of Artyom's biscuits.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom accepts the water and has a drink and more food while Pavel passes out dinner, but then Pavel comes back, and sits beside him- and steals one of his biscuits! Hey! "Mh!" He makes an offended noise, pouting at Pavel- and promptly stuffs an entire one of his remaining biscuits in his mouth, specifically so Pavel can't eat it! Except then he's stuck with a mouth full of biscuit, trying to chew and swallow... Oops.

He finishes eating eventually, washing it down with water, and passes the lunchbox back to his friend with a thankful smile- and then another yawn. Tired boy!

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pavel casually sheds his jacket, draping it around Artyom's shoulders, in return for the lunchbox, and he tells Artyom, with a pat on his hair, "Get some sleep, priyatel. I'll wake you up when we get to Revolution, all right?" He'll go put the box away, gently stow the guitar someplace safe, and find his seat next to Pyotr again, leaning out to look down the tunnel their cart is slowly following, ignoring the look Pyotr is giving him, and extra-ignoring the look Nikolai is sending his way.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
That earns a bit of an embarrassed, bashful look from Artyom, who glances at the other officers, before nodding- and yawning again, phew. Yeah, he could really do with a bit more sleep...

Artyom settles further into his seat, pulling Pavel's jacket further around himself, making himself comfortable enough for sleep- he's slept in worse places than a steam cart, after all. But before he lets himself sleep, his chin resting against his head, he takes a moment to glance at the other men in the cart again- so what are these looks Nikolai and Pyotr are giving Pavel?

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pyotr's is fond, knowing, and a little sly, like he knows something that he maybe shouldn't but likes knowing anyways; Nikolai's look is serious and thoughtful, like he might be realizing something. Both of them, it seems, are taking note of how gentle Pavel is with Artyom, and are drawing conclusions from it...

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Pyotr being so knowing makes Artyom feel a little weird, uncomfortable as he is with this whole thing. But he seems like he doesn't mind, so it doesn't freak Artyom out much... But Nikolai is making him nervous, that look of dawning realization, and Artyom's heart starts to race-

No, this isn't the time, he's meant to be sleeping, he needs his rest, he's probably overreacting, it's fine... He yawns again as he forces himself to calm, and finally closes his eyes, and drifts off almost immediately.

itsAlana09/12/2018
As promised, Pavel will wake Artyom up when they reach Revolution, engaging with his fellow officers in quiet chatter, Pyotr's assumptions and Nikolai's thoughts kept to themselves while they're all together in such a small space-- and so nothing much happens between Artyom closing his eyes and Pyotr shaking him awake a couple hours later, Pavel busy directing guards on where to take what luggage that's in their cart. "Hey, kid, naptime's over," Pyotr says, cheerfully, "you should go give Pavel his jacket back."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
Artyom makes waking up noises and stretches and yawns, rubbing his eyes as he sits up, blinking blearily at the activity around him. Pavel's getting others to take care of Artyom's luggage, so there's not much for him to do.

Pyotr's here though, reminding him that the jacket over his shoulders isn't his, and Artyom nods, getting up to head over to Pavel. He taps his friend's arm, pulling the jacket off his shoulders and holding it out for Pavel to take back, and a grateful smile to go with it.

itsAlana09/12/2018
Pavel takes the jacket back, and smiles at Artyom, lopsided and fond. "You, uh, you might wanna grab your guitar," he says, pulling his jacket back on, "I didn't want to leave it to someone else to carry, you know? Once you have that, we can head to my quarters, if you want-- they're not far-- or for food, or whatever." He bumps shoulders with Artyom, then amends, "No booze, I think, not so soon after it got you sick, yeah?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/12/2018
"Oh!" Artyom's eyes widen, and he turns on his heel, suddenly more awake when it comes to his guitar, hurrying back to find where Pavel had stowed it. He comes hopping back to Pavel's side with the guitar slung over his shoulder by its strap, and pulling his clipboard from his jacket, just long enough to scrawl quickly, "Let's head to your place. I'm tired of travel."

itsAlana09/13/2018
Pasha nods, and casually hustles Artyom through some scenery that might look a little familiar-- there's fewer soldiers doing pushups, but just as many Red Line banners-- he remembers the last time he pulled Artyom through here, and he makes an effort to distract his friend, telling him, "It's getting pretty late, but you've slept a lot already-- if you want to stay up talking, I'm game, or we can go through your bags and start unpacking, and in the morning I can set you up with a desk and a pen and some of my paperwork, yeah?" Don't look around, don't think about the betrayal, and Pavel will match the not thinking about it.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom follows along after his friend, clipboard stuffed back into his jacket, and looking a bit tired- he did just wake up, though. He's not really paying attention to their surroundings at first, nodding along while Pavel talks, but there'a a niggling feeling in the back of his mind of familiarity-

And then it hits him. It's not like he forgot which station Revolution was or anything he just... Failed to think of it like this, until he was walking across those same tiles, between the same alcoves and statues and banners. He takes a breath, and follows Pavel's lead, trying very hard not to think about it, looking down at his feet as they pass over the floor instead of their surroundings, trying not to think about how last time they didn't pass over these tiles by their own power. That last time, Pavel had broken his trust and their friendship, and now he came here seeking it out. That last time, he was being forced into the Red Line, and now he's joined of his own free will. There's really no going back now. He's gone and done the unthinkable, what he thought then that he'd never do.

Please keep distractibg him, Pavel, because he is utterly failing at not thinking about it, and it's showing in his face with a deep shame and guilt.

itsAlana09/13/2018
Artyom's always quiet, so it's not like he's gotten quieter, but the way his head bends, his gaze fixed on the floor, the misery on his face-- Pavel puts his hand on the back of Artyom's neck, blunt work-worn nails scratching his scalp behind his ear, and chatters about what they can do tomorrow after work, about Pavel's future turns around the station, about getting Artyom some sort of official title so he can be officially paid and maybe get to come with sometimes, if he wants, when it's possible, you know-- he's trying very hard to keep you distracted, Artyom, at least until they turn away from what Artyom's seen before into a quieter, less familiar hallway.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
It works, a little. Talking about a normal life, about normal things they can do, about getting Artyom a place and a job and a salary. It does a little to make him feel slightly less like this is just him being dragged to a Red prison again, if under his own power this time. But it doesn't ease the burn of being a traitor, of all he's turned his back on, just for his own comfort.

It helps more, though, when they pass into a different hallway he's never seen, an unfamiliar location easing away the memories that particular station hall gave him. He takes a breath, and sighs, as if some weight has lifted off him, enough that he can breathe a little easier, and he returns to nodding along with Pavel.

Maybe being here, in the heart of their tragedy and the symbol of all that hurt him most and his own traitorous acts and self-hatred, will ease over time, and become less difficult. Maybe, with Pavel at his side as a proper friend.

itsAlana09/13/2018
Pavel also breathes relief when Artyom does, and drops his hand to rest on Artyom's elbow, warm and comforting, and says, "We're nearly to my room-- your stuff should already be there, but I don't know if they'll have a cot for you yet, I asked for one but that means they'll have to look for some spare-- you can sleep on the bed tonight, yeah?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom appreciates the hand at his elbow, but he misses it where it was before, at the back of his neck and at his scalp, warm and comforting in such a vulnerable place. He keeps nodding along, at least until Pavel mentions the bed, and he almost stumbles, his eyes widening- no, no, surely Pavel means, like, letting him have it while Pavel sleeps somewhere else, surely not at the same time!

He fishes out his clipboard, wanting to say something about that, but writing and walking can be a pain, so it's mostly to symbol to Pavel that he has something to say when they get there. Which, hopefully, is soon.

itsAlana09/13/2018
It's very soon! It's the next door they reach, even, Pavel pushing it open for Artyom-- it's a real room, though it looks like it may have been a large-ish janitor's closet once, clearly not meant to be a bedroom; the light hangs by its wires from the ceiling between bare and rusty pipes, Pavel pulling a cord illuminate the room. The bed takes up a good third of the room, under deep shelves that are half-empty and seem to mostly hold jackets and half-assembled guns. There's a picture on the wall, faded and yellowed, of Paris and the Eiffel Tower, probably rescued from some ancient calendar, paired with one of a woman in a bikini top and police hat, dangling handcuffs at them, with creases from being folded and unfolded and a ripped edge where it was torn from an old world magazine; opposite the bed is a card table with one missing leg replaced with stacked bricks, with a couple stools shoved under it, and at the foot of the bed is a small stove made from buckets and pipes that have been nailed together into something that almost looks like it won't burn the bed down, with a flat top to warm the empty pot that sits atop it.

"Home sweet home," Pavel says, cheerfully, and then grumbles, "Blyat, they put your bags on the bed? Guess we're moving those first--" and goes to do so, dragging them off the bed. "Ahh, well, at least it's private, right, d'Artagnan?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
It's smaller than his room at D6, and smaller still than the room he and Anna and their child shared at Exhibition, but the small size is almost comforting- it reminds him a lot of his old room at Exhibition, the one he had for most of his life as soon as he was old enough to live alone, a tiny room that consisted of his desk and a chair and a ripped out cushioned bench, probably from an old train, to act as the bed. There was barely any foot space with how he had boxes and crates full of things and acting as small tables on the floor, and his walls were wallpapered in calendars and postcards and posters and shelves for his books. He's never been in Pavel's apartment before, but it's almost familiar.

Artyom finds himself smiling slightly as he takes it in, chuckling at the racy picture on the wall and feeling wistful at the one of the Eiffel tower- and then he busies himself with helping Pavel get his things off the bed, and placing his guitar on the table, before going to sit his butt on the bed instead. He sends a smile up at Pavel, his clipboard sitting in his lap, before he looks down so he can write.

"Feels kinda like home." He writes, "Not so different from my first one after I stopped sharing a room with my father. A bit bigger with a real bed, at least."

itsAlana09/13/2018
Pavel settles beside and leans into Artyom, and lopsidedly smiles at him after he reads what he has to say. "Yeah, it's a classic bachelor pad, isn't it? Dirty, cramped, and in need of some curtains probably-- but good enough for now. Better than where I was before my promotion, though, shoved in with the other spies-- those fuckers gossip like babushkas at church!" He huffs a small laugh, and jokes, "At least I won't have to worry about you gossiping, my quiet friend," with a friendly ruffle of Artyom's hair, "even if I apparently have to worry about pranks again."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom laughs, too, and bumps his shoulder against Pavel's. "Just you watch," He writes, chuckling. "Maybe you'll have your bed short-sheeted more often than not."

Ah, but there was something he'd wanted to say earlier, wasn't there? "Speaking of, I'm not taking your bed from you. What kind of guest would I be?" He writes, crossing his ankles. "I have a bedroll in one of my bags, I can set it up on the floor. I used to sleep on an old cushioned train bench for years, and I've slept in worse. It'll be fine. Not sure there's enough room in here for another bed anyways."

itsAlana09/13/2018
Pavel accuses, with a soft laugh, "Opaaa, you just don't want me to short-sheet you back! I see you, d'Artagnan, thinking ahead-- but you've been sleeping on bedrolls and couches and benches since you got here, and the bed's almost not lumpy if you lay in it right..."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom rolls his eyes, and then grimaces, because Pavel keeps insisting. So he insists back, "You're already vouching for me, sharing your space with me, you've been nothing but kind. I don't want to impose on you any more than that, especially by stealing your bed."

itsAlana09/13/2018
Pavel opens his mouth, almost tells Artyom, "let me", almost tells him, "after seeing you in that interrogation room, I wished I'd died instead of being fooled into thinking they'd be kind to you," almost says "I need to make up everything to you, Artyom," but then he doesn't say anything about all that. Instead, he sighs, and says, "Fine, I'll take the cozy, comfortable bed, and leave my guest on the floor! Will that make you happy, Artyomuchka? But we'll be getting you something more comfortable, don't you worry." He bumps their shoulders together, then rises to his feet, asking, "Does that mean we should start unpacking you?" and reaching to start opening one of the bags.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom probably would've just died if Pavel had said any of that, died of heartbreak and relief and longing. But instead he just gets Pavel being a little dramatic, and he rolls his eyes. "I'll be on a bedroll, not directly on the floor. It's fine. Are you sure there's enough room in here for another piece of furniture though?"

Pavel's getting up to help unpack, but Artyom stays in place a moment. "Do you mind if I decorate the place a little?" He writes, a smile forming on his face, as Pavel opens up one of his bags... a bag that is almost entirely full of books, with papers and notebooks and folders with more papers between them. Artyom was not kidding about most of his belongings being books...

itsAlana09/13/2018
Pavel hears the scratch of Artyom's pencil, and he leans over, reading it upside down-- "Ehhh, depends? If you have some friends for my girl over there," and he gestures over his shoulder at the sexy cop, "then sure, she's looking a little lonely, but maybe don't hang up Ranger banners, you know?" He grins at Artyom, and begins unloading books onto the card table-- until it starts to make an alarming noise, and then he unloads it, and starts moving them to the shelves above the bed, shoving his own possessions aside and putting only the thinner things on the table. "Blyat, these books must weigh as much as you, priyatel..."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
"No girls, but no ranger insignias either." He writes, before setting the clipboard down to join Pavel. Mostly he starts snatching up the folders and loose papers and notebooks that were between the literature, and starts fussing about with them. He takes out the papers in some of the folders, a couple posters and old calenders, although some are stiffer than usual papers, some kind of cardstock, and he starts applying them to the walls, steadily surrounding Pavel's makeshift poster of Paris and the Eiffel Tower...

And they're all photos, too. Postcards depicting real pictures of old world locations, including another Eiffel Tower! And the giant statue of Christ in Brazil, those pyramids in Egypt, Great Britain's massive clock tower, famous cityscapes, and more...

The only one he doesn't apply to the wall is a postcard with a photo of the Statue of Liberty, which he simply holds in his hands as he steps back and admires the now much more decorated walls, covered in posters and calenders but now mostly that collection of weathered but well taken care of postcards.

itsAlana09/13/2018
Pavel slows, and then stops, his unloading as Artyom arranges his postcards, a soft "oppaaahhh" escaping him-- it's filling the wall, crowding it with things they'll never see, that may not even exist anymore, and he leans back against the door, admiring it. "Damn, you, uh, you collect more than books, chuvak?" he says, eyes roaming over the images. "Where did you even find these?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom looks over his shoulder at Pavel and smiles, setting the Lady Liberty postcard down and taking up his clipboard instead as he goes to stand beside his friend. "I have one or two collections, yeah." He writes. "I got them here and there. Merchants, stalkers, sometimes people find these things and hold onto them for years, wistful for the world we used to have. It always fascinated me, since I only barely remember the surface before. I was so little. I got ahold of one, then two, and then I couldn't stop."

He keeps writing, his words falling out of his fingertips. "When I'd rush the merchants that'd show up when I was growing, it was mostly for books, but also to see if they had any of these postcards. Sometimes my friends or family would pick them up if they saw any, give them to me as a gift." His eyes drift to the Statue of Liberty postcard where it sits on the table. "I like to just look at them sometimes. Imagine what it was like."

itsAlana09/13/2018
His arm falls around Artyom, leaning gently on his friend as he reads, and hums, softly. "I-- I wonder if some of them are... if they're still standing out there, waiting for our grandchildren to find them again," he says, very quietly. "If there'll be grandchildren to find them, or if they'll be... be monuments to the mutants that come after us, the ones that're going to take this world we ruined as their own, you know?" He doesn't sound too sad-- more wistful, more quiet, like he did when talking to Artyom about souls, so long ago when they were escaping to the surface of Moscow.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
"Maybe." He writes, looking similarly wistful. "Maybe we can hold things together long enough for our descendents to find our old monuments. Maybe we won't. Maybe it'll be the Dark Ones, recycling the world we left behind, keeping us alive in the tales they can gather of us, their ancestors and precursors."

He leans slightly against Pavel, too, soaking in his warmth. "Do you like them?" He means the postcards and posters and things, nodding over at them as they cover the walls. "I know I had a lot. If it's too much I don't mind taking them back down."

itsAlana09/13/2018
"No, it's good," Pavel answers, and his cheek falls against Artyom's soft hair, comfortably, the closeness to his friend... soothing. good. warm. He wishes, for a moment, that they could have had this without all the stuff that happened between Theater and now...

"It's, uh, our wall now, right?" he says, breath stirring Artyom's hair. "At least until I get promoted again, and, and, and get a room bigger than a shoebox. Oppa, maybe  even a room big enough for each of us to have our own wall!" He laughs, softly, and stays there for a moment, breathing quietly, being alive and being next to his friend, his friend who came to him, who still cares about him, even after all the shit.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom's heart beats strongly in his chest, and the guilt and shame doesn't hesitate to remind him that he's so comfortable and happy and safe in Pavel's arm like this at the abandonment of his family and people who counted on him, cared about him, his convictions and morals. It's a heavy guilty pleasure.

"I'm sure you'll get promoted more if you put yourself out there." He writes, smiling a little, if a bit sadly. "But I don't know, maybe you're a lazy layabout of an officer, I haven't seen you work."

He's teasing, though- he's not blind to the wear and weathering Pavel's recent work has had on the man, circles under his eyes to match Artyom's.

itsAlana09/13/2018
"Fuck, I wish I had the time to be a layabout," he says, and bumps his cheek to Artyom's temple, a stubbly brush of warmth. "But I feel like I'm doing... doing five times the work for only a couple bullets more a week..." He pulls back, and sits on his bed, leaning down to unlace his boots.  "Blyat, maybe it's because I'm stuck in an office so much, instead of going out, fucking... spying and making friends. I'm *good* at those." The spying, the friends, and the fucking all, as it happens. "Not that I like getting caught by Nazis, but, sukaaa, it's at least interesting, you know?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom watches Pavel pull away and go sit down, frowning as he listens. After a few moments, he comes over to join Pavel, sitting beside him.

"Yeah, you were pretty good. Maybe too good." He writes, having some sobering thoughts and memories. "But maybe I can help with your new work. If I can. I want to."

itsAlana09/13/2018
"Even if you can't," Pavel says, and his hand finds the back of Artyom's neck, "It'll, uh, be nice to have someone to bitch to about it when I get home." And his nails scratch so gently... his smile is so soft, slanted and fond... Artyom's excused if his heart goes all pitter-patter at Pavel's expression, unhidden affection in the way he's looking at his friend. "But I think you'll be able to, d'Artagnan, at least a little, and that'll be a big help."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom's heart does go all pitter-patter at Pavel's smile, at his warm hand scritching at the back of his neck, the fondness in those blue eyes... He can't help but just look into those eyes for a couple moments, his own face taken with guilty fondness and wistful longing.

And then he remembers to breathe, and turns his face back down to his clipboard, trying to clear his head. "I want to." He writes again. "If you're doing good work, I want to help you. I know I can't do much yet, you can't trust me too much, but I'll try to earn it. I'll try to help. I'll earn my place, if it's beside you."

Oops, he may not have intended to write that last part, his hand getting ahead of himself, and he bites his lip.

itsAlana09/13/2018
"Blyat, Artyomuchka, you sap!" he says, with a soft laugh, and shoves Artyom's shoulder, barely enough to even rock him before wrapping his arm across Artyom's back, pulling him into a soft half-hug before letting him go. "Come on, chuvak, we should unpack more, so we don't have to do too much tomorrow, yeah? And get settled in for the night, you still have those bags under your eyes..."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom makes an embarrassed noise, and then one of surprise as he's pulled into a very warm half-hug, his cheeks going pink. Biting his lip, he nods, and doesn't write another word, not trusting them at the moment. He sets his clipboard aside, and returns to his bags, to help unpack.

It's still mostly books, but there's also a few sets of clothes, neatly folded, including undershirts and overshirts both, enough for him to wear a few layers when it's especially cold. A couple pairs of boots. An old gasmask, some filters, a healthy collection of bullets in a locked box. A couple boxes of Exhibition tea, some cigarettes (most rolled with Metro grown tobacco, but there's a packet of barely touched old world cigarettes, clearly some special occasion shit). There's the skin of what was once a large rat, which Artyom asks to hang up on the wall like a trophy.

While unpacking Artyom's clothes, Pavel might find wrapped up in his pants a small hookah and a little box of weed... Goodness, Artyom, you little deviant!

itsAlana09/13/2018
Pavel is trying to figure out where to put the clothes-- they're going to need more storage space, Artyom's brought a whole life with him!-- when he realizes there's something hard and long rolled in this pair of pants... and, upon investigation, he finds Artyom's weed stash. "Artyom!" he says, surprised, and then, with a glance through his lashes at his friend, "Someone seems to have snuck some weed into the Red Line... it couldn't have been you, of course, but as an officer, I'm afraid I'll have to confiscate this contraband."

He's definitely teasing, but he's still making a move like he's going to tuck the box into his pocket.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom was in the middle of setting up his bedroll, which had been attached to his backpack like his guitar was, when his name is called in surprise, and he looks over- oh! Well, Artyom at least has the decency to look sheepish about his weed stash being found. He almost forgot he'd brought it! He doesn't expect Pavel will mind too much, and then his friend starts joking about it, so he laughs, and gives the other man a falsely innocent look through his dark lashes.

Oh, of course, officer, he has no idea where it came from! Ah, but he laughs again, and goes to snatch the box and hookah from Pavel. He ain't giving up his weed just yet!

itsAlana09/13/2018
"Ah-ah-ah!" Pavel scolds, and lets Artyom have the hookah, but holds the weed above his head, where Artyom can't get it, grinning down at him. "This is evidence, chuvak, I can't just go handing it over to *any*body..."

What will Artyom do to get his weed back?

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom tries reaching for the box after claiming the hookah, but fucking Pavel has to hold it up high where poor shortie Artyom can't reach! He makes a quiet little noise of frustration, stretching up on his tiptoes and even hopping to try and reach, before giving up and pouting at Pavel, crossing his arms.

And then an idea hits him, and a smirk comes to his lips, and he holds still a moment longer... before lunging suddenly, his hands going for Pavel's sides with wiggly fingers on the attack!

itsAlana09/13/2018
Pavel was laughing at Artyom's pout, and was just about to give in and give it back when-- "Ah, suKABLYAT--" he yelps, his sides under attack, and he convulses with startled, squawking laughter, trying to push Artyom away with both hands-- now's his chance to get his weed back!

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom snickers evilly, and he could grab the weed now, but... He decides tormenting Pavel is just too entertaining to give up for a few moments longer. But, finally, he deigns to be merciful and relents, to instead snatch his box of weed right out of Pavel' hands, backing away with a triumphant grin.

itsAlana09/13/2018
He's left wheezing from the assault, falling back onto his bed and claiming, "You criminal! I'll have you thrown in the brig for this, suka!" in a breathless, laughing voice, and props himself up on an elbow, grinning at Artyom. "Unless you share some with me, that is."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom laughs, and sets about stashing the box and hookah somewhere safe amd hidden, to keep them out of trouble. Once that's done, he goes and plops on the bed beside Pavel, with his clioboard again, writing for him. "Don't worry. Next time I smoke, I'll save some for you." And then he smiles, warmly, and continues. "You're welcome to my tea, too. Brought it from home."

There's a pause. He'd accidentally mentioned before that he'd come all this way from Exhibition, but isn't sure Pavel caught it. He's not entirely sure still if it's a good idea yet to just blab where he came from, but... Hell. He's feeling... trusting. Maybe he'll regret it. But he'll throw caution to the wind again. He writes a bit more, "I grew up in the Exhibition, actually. We make pretty good tea, you've probably heard of it. Relaxing, actually tastes a little like something."

itsAlana09/13/2018
"So kind!" Pavel says, laughing. "You just don't want to get into trouble, Artyomuchka--" and then Artyom's offering tea, and Pavel makes a pleased noise.

"Yeah, I've had it, it's, ahh, good stuff. I guess I'll need to find a kettle, then, now that you've brought me tea..." He rubs his knuckles up and down Artyom's spine, idly, and isn't it weird how he always seems to be touching Artyom?, and asks, "Isn't Exhibition where there was that trouble with... is that how you got the..."

He waves his hand, a little, referring to events maybe best left behind them, but he'd like to know...

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
It is kinda weird! But a kind of weird that Artyom is guiltily enjoying very much.

Artyom knows what Pavel is asking about, and bites his lip, nodding. He feels hesitant telling Pavel about this, when he'd gathered that almost a year ago, Pavel's mission had tangentially involved the Dark One survivor, that Pavel told him Korbut had had his eyes on the Dark Ones for some time... But he talks anyways. "Yes. The Dark Ones came to Exhibition, and it's why I left home. Dealing with them was how I became a Ranger."

itsAlana09/13/2018
"You should tell me about it, sometime," he says, "but maybe when it's not so recent, yeah?" and bumps their heads together, affectionate as a cat, his touch kind and careful-- and he smothers a yawn. "Or at least in the fucking morning, yeah? Some of us haven't slept all day, not like some lazy Tyomas...!"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
"Maybe." He writes, but then it dawns on him what Pavel's implied- it's already almost two years since the original incident with the Dark Ones. For him to talk about it when it's not so recent... It's like Pavel is talking as if Artyom will be living with him for a long time. And, sure, he uprooted his life with his only plan being to go to Pavel's side, but to have it laid out like that by the other man, so matter-of-factly, that the two of them will still be around each other... It throws Artyom, and he's sitting there in quiet shock while Pavel is talking of being tired and teasing Artyom for his laziness.

Finally, he shakes it off, and he gives Pavel a half-hearted smile, starting tk write again. "It was a long trip from Exhibition, and I haven't been sleeping well before that." He confesses. "Maybe I'll finally start catching up."

With that said, he gets up off Pavel's bed, and flops down to the floor, onto his bedroll, looking up at his friend with a tired, wistful look, before finally stretching himself out on the bedroll, boots and coat still on.

itsAlana09/13/2018
"Excuses, excuses," Pavel teases, "you're clearly a loafer, come to, to sleep on the Red Line's beds. You're lucky I like you..." He reaches out and down, and ruffles Artyom's hair, softly, and then asks, "You want me to start a fire in the stove, Artyom, or are you gonna be okay down there?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Pavel is briefly shown Artyom's clipboard, which reads "Red rhymes with Bed". While he's settling in, though, Pavel offers to light the stove, which Artyom looks at... and then looks at Pavel with a doubtful expression in his face. He's pretty sure he trusts that thing less than the Red Line of last year.

itsAlana09/13/2018
Pff-- Pavel rolls his eyes, and says, "Well, you're the one who'll have to  live with frostbite, priyatel," before reaching up-- the lightbulb's string is just within reach, and he murmurs, softly, "Good night, Artyom," before clicking it off and settling into bed.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom snickers, and shakes his head. It's not his fault that's the flimsiest stove in the entire Metro! Ah, but Pavel's softly telling him goodnight, and he hums a quiet reply, makes himself comfortable, closes his eyes... and steadily drifts off.

And, as usual, Artyom sleeps like a rock. He sleeps soundly, and even sleeps through the cold of the dead of night. Should Pavel, for whatever reason, wake and check on his friend, he'll find that Artyom can even sleep through his own visible shivering, curled on his side, legs bent with his feet practically up to his thighs, arms folded with his hands stuffed under them, chin tucked to his chest and face turned down into the bedroll...

itsAlana09/13/2018
Pavel sleeps fast, but lightly, and partway through the night some little noise wakes him, and he makes a little noise back, rolling over in bed-- and he can't see shit, not in the blackness of a Metro night, but his hand knows where the light's string is, and pulling it means seeing Artyom, shivering in the cold on the floor, fast asleep but clearly suffering.

"Blyat," he mutters, "should've make him take the bed--" should've turned the stove on, too-- and he rolls out of bed, carefully, touching Artyom's shoulder. But his friend sleeps deep, and Pavel sighs, and gently scoops him up again, a princess carry to ease him up off the chilly concrete floor and into the warm spot Pavel left on the bed.

And, fuck, it really is cold down here, Pavel is NOT going to take Artyom's bedroll, so instead he tosses the blanket over Artyom, and drags a couple of his jackets off the shelf to add to the warmth, and spends a couple minutes catching the coals in the stove on fire, so they'll warm the chilly room at least a little before he sleepily tucks back into bed, boxing Artyom in against the wall, the blanket and jackets spread over them warming the narrow bed; when Pavel pulls the string, turning the lights back out (but leaving the room dimly warmed by the coals in his shitty little stove), he lets his arm lazily fall across Artyom, too, face tucking into the cold back of his friend's neck, breath warming him as Pavel falls back to sleep, quick and easy and apparently unbothered by sharing a bed with another man.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom stirs a little, at least, when the light turns on and when he's touched and picked up and moved- and by the way, in that brief moment he's in Pavel's arms, he curls into him, his face finding Pavel's shoulder. Then it's Artyom curling into the warm spot on Pavel's bed, a little ball of Artyom seeking warmth, sighing softly as hes covered with a blanket and jackets.

When Pavel joins him, Artyom shifts close against him once more- if he wasn't already facing his friend, it's not long before he's rolling over to curl into the warmth of Pavel's chest. He doesn't shiver at all anymore, breathing easily, giving a slow, comfortable sigh once he's settled.

And he sleeps soundly and comfortably like that for the rest of the night. Hope Pavel doesn't mind his bedmate wearing boots in bed.

itsAlana09/13/2018
Eh, probably not the grossest thing that's been in any given bed in the metro, if Pavel was too bothered he would have taken them off Artyom himself... as it is, he stirs a little when Artyom rolls to face him, and resettles his arm over his friend, tucking his face into Artyom's soft hair and falling back into a quiet sleep.

Artyom gets to be the first to wake up. OuO

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Oh boy! Well, Artyom wakes up slowly as morning comes, while the rest of the station wakes up around them with the muffled hum of activity. His dreams fade, and an awareness of existing arrives, settling back into his own body. He takes a slow, deep breath, and lets it out as a sigh as his breathing resettles to a more wakeful rhythm rather than the shallow breathing of sleep.

He becomes aware that he is very comfortable, and very warm, laying on a soft, warm surface, with a wall to his back, and something soft and alive and the source of the warmth to his front. Something breathing, something holding him, something breathing softly into his hair...

Artyom realizes all at once that he is no longer on his bedroll on the floor, he is on Pavel's bed. And Pavel is also in the bed. And Pavel has Artyom utterly surrounded, the two of them as close as can be, Artyom huddled to Pavel's chest while his friend holds him, almost like lovers-

Artyom gasps a bit sharply, and tries to pull away in a mild panic, his mind blaring alarms.

itsAlana09/13/2018
His pulling away from the almost-like-lovers embrace makes Pavel grumble tiredly, but let him go, eyes scrunching more tightly closed as he sighs. Unfortunately, with the wall behind him, Artyom can only really pull back a couple handspans, not far enough to escape Pavel's warmth or his arm, hand resting loosely on Artyom's ribs as Pavel turns his face into his flat and lumpy pillow.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom will sit up though, panicked and confused, not entirely just because of the implication that Pavel moved him to his bed- that makes sense enough, maybe it was a really cold night, and Pavel had been insisting on letting Artyom take the bed. But he's mildly alarmed that Pavel decided to *also* take the bed with him, further alarmed that Pavel let him snuggle so close, and snuggled back in kind, and he is all sorts of freaked out over the sudden influx of feelings about the entire scenario.

Because he liked it. It felt wonderful, safe and warm and comfortable and he wants nothing more than to bury his face in Pavel's neck and go back to sleep. And that scares him, and his shame and guilt of everything he's done wrong are screaming at him about it. Oh, you could hardly stand to kiss your wife on the cheek or hold your son, so you run away from your life and responsibilities to go, literally, into the arms of that Red son of a bitch that stabbed you in the back?

Artyom's going to put his back to the wall, draw his knees to his chest, and hug them, confused and lost.

itsAlana09/13/2018
After a moment, Pavel unburies his face, squinting at Artyom in the dim, dim light of the stove, his face shrouded in darkness with only the faintest hint of gold and red warming the shape of his skull. "'Tyom?" he asks, voice soft and rough with sleep, and curls a hand around Artyom's lower leg, above his boot. "... Bad dreams?" he asks, and his thumb rubs, gentle, soothing, through Artyom's pants.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
It bothers Artyom that seeing Pavel like this, barely awake and the dim light from the coals in the stove creating the softest, warmly colored corona around his head, blue eyes squinting through the dark and the sleep, is so warming to his heart and his soul. He wants only to reach out and pet that shaved head, stroke a round cheek, to smile at him.

But he doesn't smile, only furrows his brow like Pavel is an idiot for not seeing what could possibly have set him off. He only woke up in the arms of his very male friend as if they were newlyweds! "Mngh."

itsAlana09/13/2018
Pavel can't really see Artyom's expression, can't tell what he's thinking, but can tell that he's not real happy, and asks, drowsily, "Need to piss...? Could've climbed over me,  'Tyomuchka, don't gotta pout," and sits up, scooting out of the way. "The... the... 's that way down the hall," he adds, rolling his shoulders and gesturing left.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom just... sighs. He's still completely and utterly freaking out inside, but the part of him that his shame and guilt and self-hatred and disgust are beating down just... just wants to... return to Pavel's arms and bury his face against his neck and enjoy his warmth and his comfort and safety.

So he gives in. Why not? He's already fallen this far. He came here for a reason, didn't he? Because he was obsessed. Because he couldn't live like he was, he couldn't be a good husband, couldn't be a good father, couldn't be a good son. All he could think about was Pavel Igorevich Morozov. All he wanted was Pavel. Pavel, or for his disgusting self to end.

And he gave it all up, for Pavel. He abandoned everything and everyone, packed up all evidence of his existence, and came to the Red Line, defecting just to be at Pavel's side. Isn't this what he did it all for? He needs to stop panicking, stop overthinking, he's already aware there's something deeply wrong with it. It's time to stop navegazing and just... let it go.

So he does. He shifts to take off his boots (he'd left them on to try and keep his feet warm sleeping on the bedroll, but it's kinda pointless now) and toss them off onto the floor. And then he scoots close to Pavel, gently tugging at him to coax him back to laying down as they were. And if Pavel complies, he'll get an artyom cuddling right up against him, burying his face against his collar, curling against his warmth and his comfort and his safety.

itsAlana09/13/2018
"Ah," Pavel says, soft and vaguely confused-- isn't that a quick swing!-- but not displeased, and settles down, and accepts Artyom's cuddles without comment. This is nice, he thinks, even if it's because Artyom's running, even if it's probably because Artyom had a rotten dream and needed to rest his face somewhere safe-- it's nice, and he hums softly, tugging the blankets back over Artyom, presses his face against his hair, and rubs the back of Artyom's neck, soothingly. "Don't worry, d'Artagnan," he murmurs, "'ve got you..."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom knows he shouldn't be soothed by those words- Pavel doesn't even realize where his discomfort's coming from. He shouldn't be soothed by this warmth and closeness, shouldn't be soothed by this affection. He shouldn't be here at all. But he is, and he is, and he is. And he hushes the dark feelings and voices in him, so he can just soak in this moment. He's too awake to go back to sleep now, but he can doze, and he can be comfortable and warm, and he can just silently enjoy Pavel's sleepy company until the officer needs to get up.

When he doesn't think about how nice this shouldn't be, it's really, really nice.

itsAlana09/13/2018
Eventually, duty comes for all men, and Pavel's comes as someone knocking on the door, calling, "Lieutenant Colonel, it's nearly eight, Colonel Vasiliev is looking for you..."

"Blyat," Pavel says into Artyom's hair, kind of grumpily, and pushes up onto an elbow, calling back, "Tell the colonel I'll see him in fifteen, comrade." He reaches out to turn the light on and turns back towards his bedmate, patting Artyom's cheek, and says, "C'mon, chuvak, up and at 'em, we need to get food." There's a grumpy crease between his eyes, but he smiles at Artyom, and half-heartedly tries to flatten the mess of his hair-- "Did something nest in here while you were sleeping? Blin, you could stuff a pillow with this fluff..." -- before rolling out of bed, poking around for his boots and shrugging into a fresh-ish jacket.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
"Mmmh." Artyom, already mostly awake, doesn't look or sound nearly as grumpy as Pavel as he wakes up and rolls out of bed after him. He just has that demeanor of melancholy he just can't seem to shake. He hmms, running his own hand through his hair, wondering if maybe he should get that shorn soon... By the way, Artyom hasn't changed at all in the last like, week, so now's the time (he also hasn't had a shower, but he'll have to do that later, since apparently they're on a time limit this morning), and he starts to strip down, not really caring that Pavel is right there.

Hey Pavel, now you get to see how skinny your buddy *really* is as he takes off his layers. It's already apparent the moment he's down to his undershirt, his skinny chest and skinny arms. He turns away from Pavel a bit shyly when he goes to peel that off next, and if Pavel tries to peek, he can definitely see Artyom's rib, the poor boy underfed most of his life due to the harsh conditions of the Metro.

He's got a replacement undershirt on in an instant, and then seems somehow *less* shy about getting out of his pants and underwear and replacing those (but not before briefly baring a cute, petit tush). And then Artyom's layering again, rolling up the ends of the sleeves of an overshirt so they don't hang over his hands, and pulling a jacket on over that, bending to pull on and tie his boots... All dressed and ready to go!

itsAlana09/13/2018
Pavel doesn't NOT look, there's not a whole lot of places in the room to look besides at Artyom as he gets ready for the day, changing out of his clothes-- Pavel offers, as Artyom's doing up his boots, "I'll show you the laundry later, chuvak, after we get about three pigs in you-- you know you're not, uh, supposed to look like a skeleton, right?" and puts his hands on Artyom's ribs from behind as he straightens up, clicking his tongue as he feels the bones against his fingers. "Blyat, what did they feed you rangers, half a mushroom a week and water on Sundays? Two crackers and a rat skeleton to gnaw on for the year? How are you still upright, d'Artagnan?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom makes a funny, surprisingly high-pitched noise for his usually fairly low voice when Pavel surprises him with hands at his sides. He wiggles, and pouts, and retrieves his clipboard so he can write at Pavel. "I'm pretty sure I told you maybe three stations ago that I was always skinny. I might be a littler lighter than normal, though, I haven't eaten well lately." He chuckles softly. "I'd say you'd have to just feed me more, but I always hear rumors that the Red Line is low on food."

itsAlana09/13/2018
Pavel reads what Artyom writes, and teases, "Yeah, you said you were skinny, not that you were a skeleton wearing human skin!" He catches Artyom with his arm, pulling him out into the hall, and elaborates, "A, a fucking xylophone with a hide stretched across it. If I tapped your ribs, would they make little bell noises?" He tests it, poking Artyom's ribs and going "ting-ting-ting!" in a surprisingly melodious voice. "They do!" he announces, and steers Artyom down the hall, away from the entrance of the station, towards the vague murmuring noises of a cafeteria. "And there's been some improvement on the food front, now that, ah, now that there's some fewer mouths to feed, thanks to our previous leader's, ehhh, machinations."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom can't write and walk at the same time, so he just lets himself be pulled along, making another funny noise and squirming as Pavel pokes at his ribs- only to chuckle at Pavel playing like they're a xylophone. What a goober. As he keeps up with his friend, he stows his clipboard away again, nodding along as Pavel talks. At the news of the, uh, state of the Red Line, he clears his throat and only says "... Mh." Haha, yeah, that sure was a *lot* of bodies at D6...

Sometimes he's wondered how many of those men were just normal people given a gun and thrown at the enemy. Sometimes he tries not to wonder, because it hurts his soul to think about.

itsAlana09/13/2018
Probably most of them, but... it's best not to think about. If you think about the people who've died around you in a place like the Metro, you either go mad or cold, and Pavel would like Artyom to stay sane and warm. "Hey, don't worry, chuvak," he says, and rubs his knuckles over Artyom's ribs, "even if it wasn't going so great, I'd be here to help out my fellow musketeer, you know? Maybe you won't be so cold at night if you put some meat on your bones..."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
There's a part of Artyom that wants to blurt out 'But I won't need it if I can just be warmed at night by you', but that thought makes his cheeks go pink, and for once he's thankful for his muteness. Instead, he just chuckles weakly, and rubs at his side a little, unable to stop thinking about Pavel's touch. He swallows dryly, and clears his throat, patting his belly to try and signify that HEY maybe they should go eat already (and stop distracting him with gay thoughts- haha yeah right that'll never happen).

itsAlana09/13/2018
They're there, actually, the hallway opening up through a doorframe that's long since lost its doors to what must have been a public area in the station, with long tables and makeshift stools and scavenged chairs, and a woman serving mushroom-and-mystery-meat glop out of a barrel that someone cut in half to make an oversized pot. There's no line, and Pavel strolls right up, greeting, "Hey, Verochka! Back on kitchen duty?"

"Fuck off, Morozov," Vera says, looking him straight in the eyes, and dumps a spoonful of Mystery Stew into a bowl, shoving it at him and proceeding to ignore him. Pavel snorts, and shrugs, and gestures Artyom forward-- Vera looks Artyom over, and gives him a generous spoon and a half.

Pavel shrugs, taking his bowl and claiming a spoon and a seat nearby. "I think she's starting to forgive me," he says, cheerfully, "what do you think, Artyom?" What he needs forgiveness for is unknown, but apparently there's something!

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
As they head up to the cafeteria lady, only for there to be some prior and, to Artyom, unexplained animosity from the woman's end, Artyom looks between them with a surprised 'oh shit' expression until it's his turn... He sheepishly sidles up, biting his lip, kinda expecting guilt by association to get him similar treatment... But instead he gets extra. Probably she's taken pity on a skinny, underfed young man. He smiles bashfully at her, before hurriedly following after Pavel.

Wondering if breaking hearts and betraying trust is just something Pavel does or did, "... Mh." is Artyom's initial answer as they settle into seats, Artyom taking a spot beside Pavel, since it'll be easier for his friend to read his writing that way. Speaking of, he pulls his clipboard out and sets it on the table, and begins to write. "Should I bother asking what she would be forgiving you for?"

itsAlana09/13/2018
Pavel laughs, and says, "Blyat, it's old, old news-- I was an ass when I was nineteen, they shouldn't have let me talk to anyone, but they did, and I pissed her off. She's been mad for..." He counts on his fingers, and says, "Seventeen years? Yeah, seventeen years. I've never seen a grudge held so long!" Honestly, he doesn't even remember what he said... "Ahh, well, she hasn't poisoned me yet, so she can't be too mad."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom sputters, eyes widening, then counts for a moment- "You're 36??" He writes, clearly shocked. "I thought you were maybe a decade younger than that."

He's just a little shaken by this knowledge! And now he feels very young again.

itsAlana09/13/2018
He says, "Oppa! Do I look good for my age?" and laughs, bumping shoulders with Artyom. "Don't worry, another couple weeks behind my desk and I'll look fifty, d'Artagnan." Artyom, how does it feel to be in love with an older man?

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom chuckles, and bumps his shoulder back. "Yeah, you look pretty good." He writes, even though it feels really weird to put that down in words, makes his heart beat faster. It feels really weird to be in love with an older man, apparently, and yet not weird at all. Not thay Artyom really realizes that's what this all is, that he's gay as hell. "But maybe with me helping you you won't age so fast."

itsAlana09/13/2018
"Or maybe you'll sprout up from being, what, twenty? to fourty-five right alongside me," Pavel says, and ruffles Artyom's hair-- and then digs into his food. He did say he'd be ready to work in fifteen...

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/13/2018
Artyom grimaces- God he hopes not! Sure, he'd maybe like to be teased a little less aboit how young he is, called a 'boy' less, but not like that!- Ah, right, he probably shouldn't be stalling, should he? Artyom digs in as well- and, siddenly ravenous, the soup really does not last long at all, gone in minutes at most.

itsAlana09/13/2018
Pavel gets most of the way through his, but then Artyom's already done, and he thinks he's running out of time-- "Here, have mine, too," he tells Artyom, pushing it towards him, "and when you're done, come find my office, it'll have my name on the outside." He pats Artyom's shoulder, and bounces to his feet, and gets out of there pretty fast, leaving Artyom unattended. At least Artyom has food!

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Artyom's not gonna complain about extra food, though he kinda wants to complain about Pavel skipping half his breakfast... But he's gone before Artyom can even put pencil to paper, and he's left alone... Which is a bit frightening, and puts a tug on his heart, but he deals with it, and slurps down the rest of Pavel's stew, before hopping up and heading off in the direction Pavel went...

He's a bit nervous wandering the station alone, too. He doesn't know the place well yet, and has no guide, and has the rather reasonable fear of bumping into an ornery officer who might decide to spontaneously arrest or search him- and he has incriminating words on his clipboard, and even more incriminating Ranger dogtags still hung from his neck under his clothes.

But if he's lucky and doesn't get accosted (IF ALANA WANTS TO ACCOST AN ARTYOM PLEASE DISREGARD THE FOLLOWING...) it probably doesn't take *too* long for Artyom to find Pavel's office, since it apparently has his name on it...

itsAlana09/14/2018
And what if Artyom is accosted, hmm? What if somebody comes up behind him and asks, "Hey, what's a little kid doing back here?" and puts an arm around him, laughing. "Blyat, is Pavel letting children run around now?" Pyotr asks, cheerfully, leaning on Artyom and winking at him. "Some parents are so neglectful..."
Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Oh, being accosted by a Pyotr is much better than being accosted by a grumpy officer wanting to swing his aggression and authority around by terrifying random civilians!

But for a second, Artyom immediately fears it's the latter when he's approached from behind with an arm falling around him, and he takes a sharp breath- and then calms immediately with a sighing laugh of relief. He rolls his eyes at Pyotr's jokes about his age and calling Pavel his parent- his clipboard comes out(and a very quick change of paper) and so do some words. "I already have a father, thank you very much. Being adopted by my friend is weird and unneccessary." He's supposed to be playing the straight man to these two jokers sometimes, right?

itsAlana09/14/2018
Pyotr sighs, and makes a heart-broken face, and tells Artyom, "I don't know how to break this to you... but... your friend is weird and unnecessary," and pats his shoulder. "Don't know why they keep him around, eh? Maybe it's his good looks, they need someone for the posters--" He's joking, but he's also giving Artyom that sly grin again, like maybe he's not joking as much as he's putting on.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Oh no- that makes Artyom snort and giggle, surprised laughter. That was a good one, he didn't expect that! "Aren't we all weird and unnecessary, though?" He writes, still grinning with laughter in his sleepy green eyes. "He does look pretty good for a guy in his thirties, though, I really thought he was closer to my age."

Artyom, for once, did not catch what Pyotr may have been teasing at.

itsAlana09/14/2018
Pyotr chuckles, and ruffles his hair, and says, "A twelve-year-old Lieutenant Colonel! Suka, what a feat that would be! You must have some confidence in him, Artyomik. So, where are you going, wandering around back here?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
That makes Artyom roll his eyes again. "I'm looking for his office, he had to run off while I finished breakfast." He writes, and then glances around. "He said it has his name on it but didn't exactly give me a direction."

itsAlana09/14/2018
"Ahh, well, I hassle him every day, let me help you!" he says, and steers Artyom along with the arm around him, down a hall that might once have been a big, open gallery for travelers, and now has offices made of scrapwood walls and scavenged doors-- those that have doors-- many with boxes sitting just outside them, filled with paper to be filed or recycled or filled out.

Pavel's office does have a door, with the word "NO ENTRY/EMPLOYEES ONLY" painted on it; it's been scratched out, but not very well, and "Morozov" painted sloppily between the top and bottom line. Pavel's familiar voice is muffled, but he's clearly speaking with someone; Artyom might identify it as serious and quiet Colonel Nikolai.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Artyom appreciates Pyotr's direction, tucking his pencil back into its strap on the clipboard as they walk together, until they find the cobbled-together offices, and where Pavel's door is. He commits the location and route to memory, for later, so he won't have to keep asking for help...

But he can hear voices inside the door, Pavel's and that other officer's, Nikolai's. He glances at Pyotr, and decides not to go knock or go in, instead shuffling over to wait politely and quietly beside the door, holding his clipboard against his chest. It's only polite to wait until they're done, he doesn't need to interrupt. Though, he might not be able to help but overhear, if their voices carry just enough through the door...

itsAlana09/14/2018
Pyotr, curious, settles in on the other side of the door from Artyom, cocking his head to the side to listen-- and he calls Pavel the spy!!-- and blatantly eavesdropping on his comrades.

Inside, Nikolai's voice crests, "--strays?  It's all well and good to help people, but the citizens should come before your friends--"

"It's not just nepotism," Pavel objects, and his voice falls indistinct, murmuring to Nikolai. There's a few hmms, and Pavel raises his voice again, just a little, some words breaking through, "--reliable-- and he'll help with-- always on at me--"

"Fine," Nikolai says, and his footsteps approach the door, voice becoming louder, "but this is because we're friends, Pavel."

Pyotr straightens up, pretending he wasn't listening, as the door opens inward, and Pavel's answer, "Ahhh, now that's nepotism! Thank you, Colonel--" follows Nikolai out into the hall. The older man glances to either side, seeing Artyom and Pyotr waiting for him, and nods seriously to them both; Pyotr salutes him, with an innocent look on his face. "Colonel," he says, exuding angelic not-spying-ness.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Oh.

Artyom realizes immediately what they're talking about, and his eyes widen. His gaze falls then to his boots, biting his lower lip, as he tries not to listen but can't help what reaches his ears, guilt flooding him. Not only guilt from what he's done, that's already always there. But now guilt for making things difficult for Pavel. He never... for some reason he never really thought about that until now. Sure, maybe it crossed his mind once or twice that Pavel would be making room for him and vouching for him, but not really what that would entail, how much he could get his friend in trouble...

When Nikolai exits, Artyom still has his head down, though he glances up briefly at the man, nodding in greeting before numbly turning his head down again. Unlike shameless Pyotr, Artyom is directly feeling shitty and guilty about this.

itsAlana09/14/2018
"Major," Nikolai says to Pyotr, and looks at Artyom, seriously. "Artyom. You should have citizenship by the end of the week. I'll send the paperwork for it to Pavel. Will you be applying for your own quarters?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Artyom looks up again, mostly because it's rude not to look at someone who is speaking to you and Alex didn't raise a rude boy, and he says, very eloquently, "Um." And then he glances over into Pavel's office- at Pavel- before holding his clipboard so he can write. "If Pavel is fine with it, I can stay with him." His words say, polite and a little formal and guiltily apologetic, "I don't want to take up too much space or resources. I know these things are finite. My apologies for how sudden this is."

Of course, if Pavel wants his own space back eventually, Artyom won't argue... although, in truth, he really hopes Pavel would prefer to keep Artyom as a roommate. It's all he wants, to be beside Pavel. It's all he came here for.

itsAlana09/14/2018
"He already said he was happy to host you," Nikolai says, and nods again to Artyom before just... leaving. Busy man, apparently!

Pavel, inside the room, lets out a relieved sigh, and says, "Artyom, come on in! Petya, you can fuck off," which gets a laugh from his friend.

"Catch you around, Artyomik," Pyotr says, and strolls off down the hall, leaving Artyom and Pavel alone.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Artyom nods again, breathing a very small sigh of relief, holding his clipboard against his chest again as Nikolai finally turns to leave. He's still a bit shaken, his stomach heavy with guilt, and waves a half-hearted goodbye to Pyotr as he turns to walk into Pavel's office... very much with the demeanor of a guilty puppy with its tail between its legs.

itsAlana09/14/2018
Pavel is leaning back in his chair-- leaning his entire chair back, knees under his desk to keep him from toppling backwards-- until he sees Artyom's demeanor, the front legs of the chair thudding against the floor when straightens up. "Hey, hey, what's that look for?" he says, concerned, and waves for Artyom to come closer. "Oppa, you look like someone kicked you, chuvak, was Petya teasing you? Do I need to go fucking fight him?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Artyom had his eyes turned down, closing the door behind him, but he glances up when Pavel addresses him, biting his lower lip again. He comes closer, and shifts his clipboard to write again. "I didn't mean to cause trouble for you."

Apparently this is really getting to him!

itsAlana09/14/2018
Pavel looks at the clipboard, and looks at Artyom, and says, "Yo moyo... Tyoma, you're not trouble." His hand falls onto Artyom's wrist, warm and comforting, thumb rubbing over his pulse. "I mean, you're a little bit of trouble, maybe, but not the kind of trouble that I mind having, you know? Especially after I was so much trouble to you..."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Artyom's fingers curl when Pavel takes his wrist, a shiver running up his spine, and he suddenly has the impulse to put his hand in Pavel's- an impulse he obviously resists, that makes his breathing stutter for a moment, and his mind go AAA for a second.

But then he takes his wrist back, because he needs it to write, though it's a little awkward that Pavel is sitting and he's standing. "This isn't just about us becoming even or something. I didn't want to cause trouble for you like this." He writes, and it's true. He wanted to keep a low profile, and just try to get by, at Pavel's side. He didn't want to make things difficult. Even if Pavel made things more than just difficult for him before. "I'm still sorry for putting you on the spot like this."

itsAlana09/14/2018
WELL MAYBE PAVEL WOULDN'T HAVE MINDED TOO MUCH-- but he lets Artyom pull away, sighs softly, rubs the bridge of his nose. "Blyat, d'Artagnan, t's not so bad. Nikolai coming around to be all serious at me is, is, it's easier than Korbut being happy with me ever was, eh?" He gives Artyom a smile, though he looks a little tired all the same. "And I like you, Artyom."

That's really what is all comes down to: he likes Artyom.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Okay, despite the guilt about this that he's having a hard time shaking, that, at least... that makes him smile, a small but real one, though he still feels bad for contributing to the tiredness in Pavel's face. "I like you too." He writes, and he means it. He means it so much, and Pavel only has an inkling of just how much.

And then Artyom shuffles on his feet for a moment, and writes a little more. "It's a little awkward standing around in your office like this, though, not sure I like that."

itsAlana09/14/2018
He has kind of an inkling, an idea that he's Artyom's first refuge, his most wanted friend, his most trusted-- and isn't that fucking tragic, that Artyom came to *him*-- but he doesn't say anything about that, just smiles back, fondly.

Then Artyom mentions that he feels awkward, and Pavel chuckles, pushing back from the desk. "Ah, what, you don't like looming?" he asks, getting to his feet, and looks around the room. "I didn't get a chance to grab you a chair yet-- but I think there's no one in the office across from me, we can get you something to sit on," and he pops out into the hall, glancing around before slipping into the dark and unlocked room across from him; he emerges seconds later with a rather grimy but usable folding chair under his arm. "Here we go!" he says, brightly, and kicks his own door closed behind him. "I told you I had a backlog of paperwork, right? Some of it's just checking numbers and stuff, make sure everything adds up, that might be--uh-- wait, shit, you probably never went to school, did you? Can you do math?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Most things in the Metro are grimy, so Artyom hardly minds the chair, taking it from Pavel so he can unfold it and sit down, scooched up to Pavel's desk. Much easier to work and write at Pavel like this! He nods along as Pavel starts to explain what he could do for him, until Pavel gets sidetracked about his education, asks if he can do math-

That gets a chuckle out of Artyom, and he writes, "My father always made a point of grabbing any textbooks he could get ahold of to educate me. Yes, I can do math." He laughs again, more of a giggle this time. "I like it, actually, I have my own math textbooks I managed to get my hands on now and then to teach myself more, exercise my mind with."

Sorry to inform you, Pavel, but your friend is a NERD who does advanced math for FUN.

itsAlana09/14/2018
As Artyom settles in and writes, Pavel settles into his own chair and leans over to read what Artyom says, elbows on the desk. "Blyat, where were you when I was in school, chuvak? You could have been tutoring me!" he jokes, shaking his head. "I hate math, I'd rather eat raw rat-- well, no, I've done that, it's worse-- but, you know, if you do it for fun... you can do all the numbers shit for me, yeah?" He leans back, and digs around in a stack of boxes behind him-- there seem to be a lot-- before he finds one that has "сука" written on its side; he pulls it out and flips through the top few layers, and says, "Yeah, these are the ones-- have at them, Artyom," and pushes it towards him, digging up a pen to go with them.

It is at least four months' backlog of financial reports, about trading with Hanza and Polis and other stations, about paying contacts and contracts, about paying soldiers and supporting citizens-- all desperately boring, and some of it probably things Artyom shouldn't see, but Pavel just directs, "Make sure there's nothing real fucky with the numbers, d'Artagnan, no mysterious four-hundred-bullet boxes of tea or anything, or fifty bullets spent out of two hundred but only a hundred coming back, you know?" and lets Artyom dig into it.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
"Probably not born yet." Artyom writes, teasing their age difference- it goes both ways, you know! But while Pavel was a shitty thirteen year old probably being a dumbass on the internet around the time the bombs fell, Artyom was only a baby. He watches as Pavel explains the work he needs to do, digging up a box full of months worth of backlogged finances that Artyom needs to math at, while Artyom nods along.

And then the box is pushed over to him, and Artyom nods once more. Yeah, he can do this, easy peasy. So he gets to work, occasionally using scrap paper to aid in running some numbers, working diligently and quietly and looking a little bored but not anything to complain about, work is work and work is usually a bit boring, but at least Artyom isn't as frustrated by math and numbers as some people. And unless he does run into some fucky numbers, it's completely uneventful- and if he *does*, he promptly informs Pavel on what he's found. It's slightly slow going, being an entire box of months worth of financial reports, but Artyom's slow is probably degrees faster than other people's slow on this sort of thing, and the box is steadily worked through.

At some point, though, Pavel will get Artyom's clipboard passed to him, with some words written on it. "Remind me to bring an ashtray and a drink next time. Usually like to have a smoke and some tea or coffee while I'm doing this kind of work."

itsAlana09/14/2018
"Pfahhh, that's no excuse," Pavel tells Artyom, with a soft laugh, and sets in to work with him-- Pavel's work equally boring but with less numbers, and he only sighs and yawns sometimes, like every five minutes. It's pretty clear that Pavel is willing to do this work, but it's not exactly thrilling for him, either...

When the clipboard comes to him, Pavel blinks out of his haze of paperwork boredom, and smiles a little, looking up at Artyom. "You can run back to our room and get some, Tyomik, I'm not going to chain you down in here," and reaches across the table to ruffle Artyom's hair. (He called it "our" room, did Artyom hear?) "Im the only one in manacles, eh?" He chuckles, making a gesture like his left hand is tied to his right as he signs the document in front of him.

Of course, Artyom could ask him to come along...

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Artyom chuckles softly, and nods, writing "Be right back" and getting up- and then hesitates, because yeah, he caught that, though it took a moment to register. 'Our room'. Their room. The room he woke up in this morning, wrapped comfortably in Pavel's arms, and is willing to do so again.

And then the moment passes, and Artyom steps out, returning to their apartment. It's a little while later, maybe twenty minutes to a half hour, that Artyom returns. It seems the bulk of that time was spent with him on his own acquiring water and method to boil it, because he sets down two steaming mugs of Exhibition mushroom tea on Pavel's desk, with a small smile on his face to join them.

itsAlana09/14/2018
Pavel had been staring at a form with an utterly blank look on his face, apparently zombified by his paperwork, and it's not until Artyom puts down the tea that he jolts, looking up-- "Ahhh!" he says, and gladly wraps his hands around the mug, pulling it close and breathing in the steam. "I was afraid the paperwork had scared you off, Artyomik, you were gone so long," he says, with a tilted smile at his <strike>boy</strike>friend, and presses the hot mug to his cheeks. "Fuck, you're a fucking treasure, you didn't need to bring me any," he says, in a way that kind of says "but if you take it back I'll probably cry".

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Artyom chuckles and sits himself back down in his seat, to write on his clipboard again. "I thought I'd do you a favor, don't worry about it. But don't thank me too soon, tea's probably as likely to put you to sleep as it is to help you focus." He sets his pencil down then, and fishes in his jacket pockets, until he pulls out an ashtray that was probably once the bottom of a liquor bottle with notches carved into it and the edges sanded down, and a little package of cheap Metro-made cigarettes.

But he pauses, and leans back over his clipboard to write again. "It is okay for me to smoke here, right? You want one too?"

itsAlana09/14/2018
Pavel waves a hand, a go-ahead motion, and tells Artyom, "Just don't set the paperwork on fire, eh? And I'm good, the tea--" He takes a sip, and sighs, happily-- "blyat, if I believed in a god, I'd call it a godsend. Or call you a godsend, eh..."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Oh, golly, that makes Artyom blush, and he bashfully clears his throat and distracts himself with fishing out his (very nifty bullet-shaped) lighter, lighting up his cigarette... He takes a puff or two before setting it in the ash tray, so he can take a drink of his tea next, and then gets back to work.

And work he does, steadily working through that box. He's well on his way to finishing it in just one day! He occasionally sips at his tea or takes a drag of his cigarette, looking relaxed and almost comfortable (it's hard to be actually comfortable in a shitty folding chair) as he works like this is perfectly normal.

itsAlana09/14/2018
Pavel's tea doesn't seem to be helping him much with his paperwork, and after a while he sits back and regards Artyom fondly instead of working more, sipping his cooling cup and just... looking at his friend. It's totally heterosexual looking, though.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Sure, Pavel. So heterosexual. As heterosexual as the way Artyom was gazing at you yesterday, when Pyotr caught him staring. Oh, wait...

Artyom doesn't seem to notice he's being looked at, though. He just keeps working, sipping his tea and occasionally puffing from his cigarette, pencil scratching away as he runs and calculates numbers and takes notes and tallies and things... He'd said he'd never really done paperwork before, but he's taken to working through these financial reports pretty well, probably because it's just extremely boring math equations.

itsAlana09/14/2018
The heterosexiest gazing any man has ever done at another man, and after a while, Pavel says, softly, "Hey, Artyomuchka?" to get his friend's attention, a little smile on his face.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
"Mh?" Artyom doesn't look up immediately, finishing whatever mathematical thought he's on, before looking up at Pavel while reaching for his mug to take another sip.

itsAlana09/14/2018
"Are you trying to set a record for how many times you can save my life?" he asks, and his voice is fond, and his eyes are fond, and he might gesture at the mug of tea, but honestly Artyom is just a lifesaver in general.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Artyom snorts, and chuckles, shaking his head. Oh, Pavel, you flatterer. Artyom's cheeks tint slightly pink, and he smiles over at Pavel, bringing his pencil over to his clipboard. "I try not to keep track of that sort of thing." He writes, pausing to take another sip of his tea. "I just try to be a decent person, is all. And treat you as my friend, which you are."

itsAlana09/14/2018
"Well, you're a hell of a friend, then, my musketeer," he says, fondly, leaning across to ruffle Artyom's hair. "Come on, you've been working hard-- you wanna help me carry what you've done to Nikolai, and go get a bite to eat?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
That earns Pavel one of Artyom's, unfortunately rare lately, genuine smiles, warm and fond and crinkling his sleepy bottle-green eyes. The ruffle to his hair gets him chuckling softly, and he looks all bashful for a moment. "Sure" He writes, with a small smile still on his lips, "I got through most of the box. Do you think he'll be impressed?"

Artyom would like to impress someone, he thinks.

itsAlana09/14/2018
"Priyatel, my d'Artagnan, my Artyomuchka, if he wasn't a stick in the mud he'd give you a medal on the spot," he says, and his hand stays in Artyom's hair for a moment, his smile just unbearably fond as he looks at his friend... then he stands up and stretches, rolling his shoulders. "Come on, let's load them up!" He sets to putting anything Artyom hasn't finished aside and loading the bulk into the "SUKA" box, where it belongs.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
He chuckles, and shakes his head, waving it off, all bashful and modest. Artyom smiles as long as Pavel is looking at him, smiling at him, and touching him. But then it's time to load up, and Artyom stands to help as well as to put out his cigarette and finish any tea he has leftover. When the box is loaded with the finished financial reports, Artyom hefts it up, still wanting to pull his own weight behind Pavel, who is effectively his boss, now, isn't he? Huh, that's weird to think about.

itsAlana09/14/2018
Pavel almost objects, but-- well-- if Artyom wants to feel like he's pulling his weight...

He lets Artyom take the burden, and leads the way out of his office and down the hall, to a door that has no name, just three stars painted on it-- probably to signify that this is a colonel's office-- and knocks, lightly. "Nikolai, you in there?" he asks, rather politely, and gets a quiet, "Come in, Lieutenant Colonel," in reply.

Pavel smiles at Artyom, and opens the door, stepping inside and pulling Artyom along with him. "Hey, comrade, you know how I said Artyom would be a great addition? Well, turns out he's great at addition, too," he says, and Nikolai snorts, softly.

"Did you start him in on the financial stuff?" he asks, eyeing Artyom, and waves the boy forward. "I take it that's what you've gotten done, Artyom?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Artyom has a pretty determined look on his face as he carries the box, even if it takes some effort and he has to adjust it now and then. He's a skinny, but very determined boy. So he follows along after Pavel to Nikolai's office, tries to respond to Pavel's smile but most just gives a grimace of effort, and then Pavel heads on in to second-hand brag about what Artyom's already done today.

When he's waved forward, Artyom steps closer, holding the box a bit proudly. He nods at the question, and gives a slightly better smile than the one he just gave Pavel. Look at what he's done! He can work hard! And he's a nerd!

itsAlana09/14/2018
Nikolai pushes a stack of papers aside, and gestures for Artyom to set it down and show him-- and, assuming Artyom does, he whistles in surprise, looking at the hefty stack of finished!!! paperwork!!!

He eyeballs Artyom, and then picks out a sheet from the middle of the stack, checking it over-- hmm, it looks good...  And another one... Checks out...

"Oppa," he says, and leans back in his chair, looking at Artyom with a light of interest in his eyes. "Do you know how long it would take Pavel to finish this much?" he asks Artyom, and Pavel smiles at Artyom, apparently certain this is a good reaction.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Artyom does not hesitate to put the box down because it is heavy and carrying it is a pain, and he gives a soft 'phew!' when he sets it down at last. He bites his lip, trying to hold back a smile as Nikolai whistles at the amount of paperwork done, and starts to rock on his heels, hands held behind his back...

At Nikolai's question, Artyom glances at Pavel, and sees that smile- and he finally smiles proudly, looking quite pleased with the praise. He goes all bashful next, tipping his head down and rubbing the back of his neck. He supposes it probably would've taken Pavel months to do all that- and by then, just as much would've piled back up. Pavel really doesn't take to paperwork, it seems...

itsAlana09/14/2018
"I don't, because I've never gotten this much from him." Nikolai sounds a little amused, though, and a smile escapes at the corners of his stern mouth. "Good work, Artyom. Morozov, you should be more like your friend." And with that, he makes a shooing gesture with his hand, picking his pen back up and looking down. They are dismissed, it seems, and Pavel hooks his elbow around Artyom's and pulls him away, out into the hall, grinning at him like a proud husband.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
It's technically not much praise, but Artyom can tell it means a whole lot coming from someone like Nikolai, and he's awfully proud as he lets Pavel pull him out, arm in arm, the both of them grinning. When the door shuts behind them, Artyom can't help but let out a pleased little chuckle, and bumps his shoulder against Pavel's. Well! Looks like it's probably official that Artyom is Pavel's new secretary, huh?

itsAlana09/14/2018
Pavel grins back, and says, "Sounds like I might be out of a job if you keep working, Artyom! So let's go get some food, yeah?" and reaches across, to fluff Artyom's hair. "We could grab something and go relax in our room for a while..."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Artyom snickers- or, Pavel, he could help you with your job so well you get promoted again! And then maybe they- them, together, 'we', 'our'- could get a bigger apartment! One with more room to shelve books! At Pavel's suggestion of getting a bite and relaxing in their room ('our room'), Artyom nods eagerly, and tugs Pavel's arm- c'mon!

itsAlana09/14/2018
Pavel laughs, softly, and leads the way to the cafeteria they were in before-- Vera not in evidence, apparently either elsewhere or off work-- and whispers loudly to the worker, "Hey, my friend is almost entirely bones, can you get us a little extra?"

The worker's eyes flicker to Pavel's rank, and he shrugs and serves Artyom two heaping spoonfuls of mushrooms fried in pig fat in a bowl, and one for Pavel, who looks perfectly satisfied with his meal as he cart Artyom back to their room, a bounce in his step.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
When Pavel pleads for an extra helping of dinner for his poor malnourished friend, whomst he cites as being all bones with maybe some skin, Artyom rolls his eyes- but an extra helping he gets anyways, though it's most likely from nepotism and rank than it would be for pity of Artyom's slight frame. Not that he's really complaining, at least not right now. He might complain if Pavel does it more often... but right now, the guy is probably just excited Artyom is here and wants to spoil him. Let Artyom's moving in settle first.

He nods thanks to the worker, and follows Pavel back to their room (theirs, he can't stop thinking of that), though unlike Pavel, there is little bounce to his step, not with that perpetual melancholy that still haunts him even in his better moods. The moment they're home, he heads to the table to sit, setting down his bowl as well as his clipboard, for any possible conversation.

itsAlana09/14/2018
Pavel drags the other stool out and slots in on Artyom's right, nearly shoulder to shoulder, leaving Artyom room to write between them-- but he focuses on his food for a moment, shoving mushrooms into his mouth, with a pleased little noise. "This, this is better than breakfast, yeah?" he says, cheerfully, and smiles at Artyom, bumping their knees together. "Maybe you'll put a little meat on your ribs, Artyom, with enough meals like this and a nice cushy desk job. Wouldn't that be nice, eh?"
Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Artyom digs in too, eating quietly, and humming in agreement at Pavel's assessment of this food compared to breakfast. Anything cooked in pork fat is gonna be tasty. He nudges Pavel's knee back, and then leans close to bump shoulders too, with a soft snicker. He sets down his spoon for a moment, so that he can use that han to write instead, "You know, you're really invested in fattening me up. Should I be concerned? Does the Red Line solve its food scarcity by feeding some of its citizens with other citizens?"

itsAlana09/14/2018
Pavel barks a laugh, flicking a delighted grin at Artyom, pushing his bowl back a little. "Sukaaaaa, you're not supposed to know that, Tyomik! It was going to be a surprise when I gobbled you up like, like, like Baba Yaga-- fucking come on up to you in a mortar--" and then he wraps his arms around Artyom, and says, regretfully, "I guess I'll just have to eat you now!"

And the he makes big gross chomping noises, ducking his face towards Artyom's shoulder, hands chomping along his ribs and belly and Pavel just being a big goof about all this.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Artyom was GOING to write something in response, chuckling softly, but he's interrupted instead by Pavel going for a bear hug, playing at eating him while being handsy and making Artyom yelp in surprise, giving off startled, tickled laughter as he starts to flail in Pavel's arms. "Agh!!" He tries to push at Pavel, to duck out of his arms to escape this assault, laughing and whining. If they're not careful they're gonna knock out that brick-stack leg for the poor table.

itsAlana09/14/2018
"You think you can escape Pasha Yaga?" Pavel asks, laughing, but he lets up-- maybe a little regretfully, maybe kind of wishing they could stay closer, but he doesn't think about that too much, just smiles as he stops chomping at Artyom but leaves an arm around him, heart warm. "You're still a little too stringy to eat, I suppose," he sighs, eyes crinkled in laughter, "so I suppose you'd better eat up..."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Artyom still has a case of the giggles even after Pavel relents, and bumps his shoulder against his friend while Pavel has an arm around him. He takes another hearty bite of his dinner in response, showing Pavel 'look! I'm eating!'. Crossing his ankles under the table, he sets his spoon down again while he chews, to write again. "I can't believe my friend is going to eat me." He writes, snorting. "Is that all I am to you? A future meal? How could you!"

itsAlana09/14/2018
"I'm a monster," he claims, "a friend-eating mutant, my mother took me to Chernobyl when I was three and I've craved human flesh ever since-- the end of the world just made it worse, yeah?" He eyes Artyom up, like he's a piece of meat, and licks his lips in the most dramatic way. "And let me tell you, Artyomuchka, you're going to be a tasty, tasty... appetizer."

Cuz he's small and skinny, get it?

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
For some strange reason, all of that doesn't make Artyom laugh suddenly. Instead, it makes him feel weird, makes his heart thump against his ribs, makes his stomach twist and his cheeks flush. And the sight of Pavel looking him up and down and licking his lips keeps replaying in his mind's eye. Um.

He swallows dryly, and tries to play his failed reaction off by bumping Pavel again with his shoulder. "You're a weirdo." He writes. "And I take offense to only being an appetizer. If I'm going to be eaten by my friend, I want to be treated as a real meal. So I guess I better keep eating."

And eat he does! Distracting himself by guzzling down his dinner.

itsAlana09/14/2018
"Chuvak, If you don't keep eating, I'll downgrade you to a snack," Pavel threatens, and rubs his hand through Artyom's hair before returning to his own food, humming to himself.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
"I'm eating!!!" Artyom has to literally STOP eating just to write that, and then makes a very dramatic scene of putting his pencil back down, picking his spoon back up, and shoveling a mouthful of food in his face as he returns to said eating. Anyways, that bowl is empty in a minute or two later, Artyom setting the spoon down in the empty bowl and pushing them aside with a satisfied sigh.

itsAlana09/14/2018
Pavel chuckles around his own mouthful of food, and bumps shoulders with Artyom, eating a bit slower and enjoying his meal-- and when Artyom finishes first, and Pavel still has a few bites left and a mouthful of food, he scoops up a couple mushrooms in his spoon and offers them to Artyom. Come on, fatten up faster, Tyomik!

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Artyom looks pleasantly surprised at the extra spoonful, but then he frowns and goes "Mm-mm!" in a negatory tone, spooning the mushrooms back into Pavel's bowl. "I already had more than you to start with." He writes, "Sure, you're already better fed than me, but you also gave me half your breakfast. Keep it."

itsAlana09/14/2018
Pavel rolls his eyes, as loudly as eyes can be rolled, and eats the mushrooms, then accuses Artyom, "Maybe you're the one who eats innocent, harmless communists who've never done anything wrong. But I'm already a three-course meal, I don't need more fattening up!"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
Artyom chuckles softly, but doesn't write anything else for now, instead just putting his elbow on the table and propping his chin up with his hand, watching Pavel eat. His smile fades, and he goes back to looking tired and melancholy with those dark circles under his eyes, but his eyes themselves have warm fondness in them.

After a minute, though, he puts his pencil to paper again, writing something that came to mind. "Nikolai said he'd be sending the paperwork, that I'd be a citizen by the end of the week. What would the paperwork entail, do you think? Will I need to show them my passport? There's nothing incriminating there at least, it the passport I've had since before I became a Ranger and shows me as from Exhibition."

itsAlana09/14/2018
Pavel doesn't notice the pensive look on Artyom's face, content with eating his food until Artyom starts to write-- and then he hums, and says, "Well, maybe they've changed it, but when I did it, I just had to put down my name, my birthday, what work I'd done-- more like, like, like a job application, right? Oppa, but that was a while ago, you know..." He bumps shoulders with Artyom, and says, "We'll figure it out, don't worry," and takes the last bite of his food.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
"It'll probably be fine." He writes, and bumps shoulders back. "Especially with your help." He ponders for a moment, watching Pavel chew, and then continues, "I can just lie a little and pretend I never left Exhibition, that I didn't run off to become a ranger for a year and a half. I've just been a good, quiet citizen doing every day work in the station I grew up in."
Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
tryna talk to steve abt how you got a job at party city and its derailed to him talking abt how he only knows abt the only party city hes seen only being around during halloween and im ???

itsAlana09/14/2018
Pavel hums, and suggests, "Well, maybe you need a little excitement in there-- I've never been to Exhibition, how would you have saved my life so many time if you've never left?" He pushes his empty bowl away, rests his head on his hand, and suggests, "It doesn't have to be Rangers, though. Maybe you and I were caught by the same bandits... or on the wrong side of a Nazi attack... I mean, that one's true, we can just skip the messy parts, right?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/14/2018
"See, this is why I need your help." Artyom writes, with a brief half-smile. "I wouldn't have thought of that, and I'd get caught in a lie."

He hums for a moment, tucking his crossed feet under his stool. "Could tell some truth, that I left home about two years ago to request emergency aid for Exhibition from Polis." He writes, chewing his lower lip as he thinks. "Maybe I set off for a brief life of adventure then. Played at being a Stalker or something, or traveling around helping out at stations, clearing out the occasional mutant or bandit nest..."

itsAlana09/15/2018
Pavel laughs, a little ruefully. "Yeah, well... I've done a lot of lying in my life, priyatel. But, uh, but..." He looks up from the clipboard, at Artyom, and says, softly, "Not to you anymore, eh?"

Anyways!!! Aside from Pavel's gay feelings!!!!!!

"Anyways, Stalker would be good-- then the rest can be the same, pretty much, with the nazis and the escaping, right up to, uh, going to the theater, maybe. If you weren't a ranger, it... you could have gone on to some other station, and we could have parted ways friends, yeah?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/15/2018
Artyom nods along, yeah, stalker sounds goods... "Did you not tell anyone else about the Ranger you met and arrested, how you met him?" He writes, furrowing his brow. "Pyotr tried asking how we met. I wasn't sure how much you might've told anyone about us, so I left out the Nazis."

itsAlana09/15/2018
Pavel's quiet for a moment. "... Korbut. But not everything. It, uh, didn't seem relevant, yeah? And then, with the orders... and D6... there was a lot going on, and by the time it was all over, the, the, the brass that was in charge didn't have time to think about one little ranger one little spy dragged in. You know?"

This is the most they've talked about... this. This is the most Pavel's talked about it, to anyone.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/15/2018
"Well. Good thing I saw him die, then." Artyom writes, a dark expression falling over his face. And then it kinda hits Artyom, as Pavel is talking, that this is actually the most they've talked about. Save a tasteless joke here and there, they've avoided it like the plague since the Red Square.

After a moment of thought, Artyom writes, "How have things been since then? A Red Line without Korbut, without Moskvin? Speaking of, whatever happened to the General Secretary's son. Leonid? He was a good guy, i could tell." A pause. "He's the one that freed me. I think he thought he'd be killed but he didn't care. I never found out what happened to him."

itsAlana09/15/2018
"Well! Couldn't have happened to a nicer person, eh?" Pavel says, with a strained smile, and puts his arm around Artyom's shoulders. "And it's been... blyat, it's, uh. A lot of people lost sons and husbands and fathers that day, but, uh, aside from the mourning and the... the... other drawbacks to half the army dying in one go...it's been okay, yeah? It's better, without Korbut, I think. A little less fear of our own line, a little more gentleness, a little more food on the plate..."

As for Leonid! "I think Leonid Moskvin is still around? Blin, I wouldn't have thought he had the guts, his pa was always talking about what a spineless coward he was-- but I'd have run from a dad like that, too. He's not an officer, though, or a political figure-- I think a couple people tried, and he turned them down-- so I don't really know what he's up to." Pavel pauses, then asks, "Should we track him down, ask him if he'll keep your secrets?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/15/2018
Artyom hums, considering what Pavel's said, mind wandering in a few different directions, but he tries wrangling it back to just one. "No, I trust him. He knew what he was doing, letting me out. Hates your guts, by the way, I think. You got a special mention in his 'fuck everyone' rant." Artyom chuckles, but his heart isn't in it. "It's a shame he's fucked off. I think a guy with his ideals could be good for the Red Line. On the other hand, easy to take advantage of."

Artyom should know. He was pretty easy to take advantage of, for his naivete and his hopeful ideals.

itsAlana09/15/2018
Pavel's guts personally? He wonders why, and leans thoughtfully into Artyom. "Well, if you trust him not to go 'hey! You're that Spartan I freed from interrogation!' if he sees you in the halls, it's probably safe enough to leave him alone." He shifts the arm around his Artyom, and pets his hand over Artyom's hair. "Might be nice to let him know you're okay, though, tell him thank you-- maybe have another friend in Revolution Station, eh? Bring him over for drinks sometime or something, if you think he won't throw it in my face."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/15/2018
"I don't think he's stupid enough to blurt shit like that where people can hear." Artyom writes, and he's been slumping a bit in his seat from the weight of the conversation- but then there's a warm hand in his hair, petting through it, and it's not right how comforting, how soothing that is, and he briefly looks up at Pavel with longing on his melancholy face. But then his eyes return to his clipboard. "I might find him, if I have time."

itsAlana09/15/2018
Pavel's heart flips when Artyom looks at him-- Artyom looks so sad, so lost, for just a moment before he looks back down at his clipboard, and Pavel isn't sure what to make of it. He swallows, and says, "Well," and hesitates. "Well, you're... you're going to be here for a while, yeah? You don't have to find him today, or this week, or this month. Just... just maybe sometime, you know?" His fingers curl, the heel of his hand resting on Artyom's shoulder, knuckles rubbing the back of his neck. "There's no rush."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/15/2018
Artyom nods, and sighs through his nose. "You're right. I'm here for good now, it'll be official by the end of the week." He writes. Citizen of the Red Line, Artyom Alexovich. Tastes bitter. "I can still hardly believe it. I can't believe I did this, and at the same time I can. I can't go back now. I wonder if they've realized I'm gone yet."

Artyom seems to be writing to himself as much as Pavel, now. Like he's writing in his diary instead of on his clipboard. He hasn't written in his diary in days... a part of him is afraid to. That adding the last couple days to the chronology of his life will make his turn official, like this is still just a fever dream, like there's still a chance he's not a traitor whi abandoned his family.

itsAlana09/15/2018
Pavel's fingers still, and he says, softly, "d'Artagnan, it's not like a... a death sentence, to be here. There's still... if you needed to, wanted to, a Red Line passport isn't as good as a Hanza one but you can still go around the Metro, you know." Gently, he rubs his thumb up behind Artyom's ear, and Pavel's touch is tender, gentle, pretty fucking gay. "I'll still be here if you have to go see someone for a while."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/15/2018
Artyom makes a quiet, slightly strained noise- and fails to resist the urge to lean into Pavel's touch, his face miserable and strained. "It's not that simple. You know it's not. If you up and packed up your life and abandoned every to run to Hanza or Polis, do you think you could really visit your friends here again?" He writes, frowning. "And I don't even mean just how they might treat a traitor here. But could you look them in the eyes again?"

itsAlana09/15/2018
Pavel lets out a hard breath, and says, "Blyat, we're real fucking bad at relaxing, huh?" instead of answering, because the answer is... well...

But. But. "... I've done worse to you," he says, and he leans in close, close enough for his warm breath to stir over Artyom's skin-- to bump foreheads, eyes closing. "Worse than just abandoning. And you still like me, for some reason. Maybe your friends can forgive you."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/15/2018
Artyom breathes a mirthless half-laugh. Yeah, no shit. But he knows why Pavel doesn't properly answer, but still the man tries to give him hope, tries to warm him with affection and esse his heart, and Artyom sighs and returns the gesture, leaning his forehead against Pavel's and letting his eyes fall closed...



But it's not working. And after a few moments, his eyes open again as he turns once more to his clipboard, flipping the paper over to a side with more space. "It's not that simple." He writes again, his face furrowed and scrunched, with anger and hurt and self hatred and like he's tasting something bitter and sour. "I don't even have any other friends. They're all dead. Most of them died at D6."



Let that one sink in.

itsAlana09/15/2018
Pavel opens his eyes when Artyom turns away, but keeps his hand there on his neck, petting gently, looking at Artyom as he writes, with only glances at his clipboard. This poor kid-- and Pavel may not have been the biggest part of his life being so bad, but he sure wasn't the smallest, either-- and left so alone he came to Pavel, even though his friends died because of Pavel's faction, Pavel's home--

"Tyoma," he says, softly, but he doesn't have any clever words to say, just... just pulls Artyom closer, pulls him into a hug, and holds onto him. He's sorry, Artyom. He's sorry.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/15/2018
It's not even necessarily Pavel he's mad at, you know? And only partially the Red Line. Korbut and Moskvin are out of the picture. It's himself he's mad at. He hates himself, for what he's done, for his own cowardice and selfishness.

When Pavel pulls him into a hug, he drops his pencil. There's not a moment of hesitation before Artyom returns the hug, curling his arms around Pavel's middle and holding on tight, burying his face against his friend's shoulder.

It's him who should be sorry now, but instead he's wallowing in his self-hatred and self-pity and Pavel's eagerness to comfort him

itsAlana09/15/2018
Wallow all you want, Artyom, Pavel is here-- here as long as Artyom needs him, for reasons that will doubtless take Artyom a very long time to understand. He's here and he's holding Artyom, and pressing his face to Artyom's hair, and mumbling, "I should show you were the showers are, priyatel," which: rude, but probably true, and also definitely a different topic. The hand stroking Artyom's back, the other hand cupped around the back of Artyom's head, it's all warm and comforting, even if he's a smelly boy, and Pavel holds him as long as he wants. Probably longer than most people would.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/15/2018
It's a good thing Pavel is here as long as Artyom needs him, because he does, he needs Pavel so much, more than anything, Pavel is exactly what he needs, and he might need him forever.

And even if he's unshowered and Pavel is joking about it, Pavel doesn't let go, keeps holding him, touching him, keeping him safe and comfortable. In the back of his mind, Artyom is pretty sure Anna would never have held him like this, for this long, especially if he was smelly.

After a minute or two, Artyom lifts his head from Pavel's shoulder and pulls away, rubbing at his face and his eyes, which are slightly red. He feels around for his pencil, doesn't find it, and just takes a different one from his clipboard to write with. "I do need to shower."

itsAlana09/15/2018
"You wanna do that?" Pavel asks, letting his arms fall from the hug he'd had Artyom in-- but a hand still stays on Artyom, resting his fingers on Artyom's shoulder, still touching him. "We can get your clothes laundered, too, if you want."
Potente Byrd Mæmes09/15/2018
Artyom nods, sighing softly, feeling calmer now than he was just a couple minutes ago. He feels paradoxically miserable, yet better. "That's a good idea. I'd like to be clean."

itsAlana09/15/2018
His hand drifts up to Artyom's hair, brushing through it, and he suggests, "We could get you a haircut, too... they have this look, they call it the Pavel, it's very trendy right now." He tilts a smile at Artyom, hoping for a laugh, or at least a smile back, and asks, "You have a cleanish change of clothes, or do you wanna borrow some of mine?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/15/2018
"A haircut is a good idea too. It's been a while. I like having at least a little bit of hair on my head though, so I'll have to pass on your Red Line vogue." Pavel's atheist prayers are answered, because he does get a teeny, brief smile as Artyom jokes back at him. But for reals- Get Artyom all buzzed and clean! Imagine the kiwi fuzz head! As for clean clothes Artyom has to think about that for a moment... when was the last time he washed his clothes? It was before Anna left for Polis, that's for sure, and he was in his depressiin spiral... hm. "I might need to borrow some clothes, I think all of mine need a wash."

itsAlana09/15/2018
Pavel will help Artyom get ready to go shower and launder, then! Packing up his unwashed clothes (aside from the ones he's wearing) in a bundle, finding him some of Pavel's more-recently-washed-if-not-fresh clothes for him to wear and a change for himself (as long as they're showering), heading off to the showers...

Pavel, unfortunately for Artyom's future ability to think, neglected to mention that they're locker room style showers, an open space with showerheads on the tiled walls-- but not a very big space. Artyom won't be able to stand more than two showerheads away from Pavel. What a tragedy!

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/15/2018
Artyom helps out in bundling his clothes for laundering and carrying the spare set he's going to be borrowing from Pavel as his friend shows him to the showers.

He is a little dismayed by the open showers, grimacing, but not too much- they had the same deal at D6, and he lived there for most of a year. Still, a year wasn't even enough to free him from his shower shyness, and he's not exactly looking forward to it...

Artyom nudges Pavel, shifting the cleanish clothes in his hands- where do they put their clothes for changing into while they get wet 'n' soapy?

itsAlana09/16/2018
There's a bench pushed up against the wall furthest from any showerheads, with a foot locker atop it, to keep clothes above the ground and out of the spray, and Pavel gestures to it, saying, "It's not perfect, but at least you don't have to get dressed in the hall, eh?" as he drops his change of clothes into it. "And it's not like it ever gets steamy in here... blyat, I'd eat Nosalis steaks for a month for a hot shower..."

Anyways, he's gonna sit on the end of the bench, where there's a little space for a Pasha to sit beside the locker, and starts pulling his shoes off and rolling off his holey socks.
Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
Hey, maybe if it weren't full of awful memories, they could pop over to Theatre sometime. Have a nice meal, a show, and they had hot showers and baths there.

Artyom follows Pavel's example, setting his change of clothes in the foot locker, and starts to change where he stands. Boots and socks yanked off, jacket and overshirt pulled off, pants wiggled out of...

Artyom, the weirdo, gets out of his underpants before his undershirt, and also makes a little more of a scene of turning away from Pavel, all shy, as he removes said undershirt. Oh no, Pavel has a nakey Tyomik next to him!

itsAlana09/16/2018
Like when Artyom changed in his room-- in their room-- there's not a whole lot of places for Pavel to look except at Artyom, though he doesn't, like... stare or anything. That would be weird! But his eyes do glance over him, and he clicks his tongue as he peels out of his own clothes. "Oppa, I see the extra mushrooms haven't hit your ribs yet," he says, with a grin at Artyom, "what's taking them so long?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
Artyom shoots a Look at Pavel, making a grumpy, pouty noise... and then self-consciously rubs a hand over his ribs, all while having a little bit of a shiver from the perpetual chill if the Metro. Poor, skinny, underfed boy! It's probably why he grew up so short and scrawny!

Pouting and holding an arm across his chest shyly, Artyom leaves Pavel behind to find himself a showerhead and some soap to claim and get the water going- and Pavel gets to hear a loud, startled shivering noise as his little friend gets hit by the cold water.

itsAlana09/16/2018
The water doesn't run *hot*, exactly, but after a few moments it might get slightly less frigid, and Pavel says, "Ahh, it gets better pretty fast, you'll live," stepping nakedly up to the shower beside Artyom and ruffling his hair.

This is the first time Artyom's seen much of Pavel, isn't it? The first time he's seen his friend's fuzzy chest, his soft gut-- Pavel looks well-fed, almost fat for the Metro, which Artyom likely could have guessed from his friend's round face, but now it's very clear-- the muscles in his arms and legs, giving them shape under the layer of softness... the trail of dark fuzz leading from Pavel's soft belly down to his dick... which, granted, isn't much to look at when Pavel turns on the cold water. It makes a valiant effort to hide from the spray as Pavel starts sudsing up, whistling casually.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
Artyom's had cold showers before, of course, it's the Metro. But one never truly gets used to that first frigid blast of water. Artyom shudders as he steadily adjusts, feeling the water grow slightly less cole just as Pavel says it will- and then he makes another alarmed noise, this time because he definitely wasn't expecting to have his haor ruffled- to have someone touch him in the shower (even if just his hair), and he glances over just as Pavel is taking up the shower next to him.

His eyes widen and he freezes despite the growing almost-warmth of his shower water when it hits him he's looking at his friend entirely naked for the first time, and he can't quite look away. Can't quite take his eyes off the layer of softness of Pavel's body laid overtop a soldier's muscles, the hair gathered at his chest, at his lower belly, the way the water runs over his pale skin... Artyom gulps, and takes a breath he'd been forgetting to take as he finally tears his eyes off his wet friend to stare ahead at the wall instead, praying Pavel didn't notice Artyom stare.

As he takes up his soap to get sudsy, his eyes are still slightly wide, and even if he's no longer looking, he can't get the naked sight of Pavel out of his mind...

itsAlana09/16/2018
artyom... i hate to break it to you... but... thats gay

itsAlana09/16/2018
Pavel doesn't notice in the least, whistling as he washes his hair, his pits, his junk, leans against the slimy tiled wall to try and get at least some funk off his feet-- very businesslike showering, like a real soldier who's been doing this for a long, long time.

It's not long before he's shutting his water off, with a exaggerated, "Brrrr! That wakes a fellow up! Or gives him frostbite..." as he grabs a towel from the locker, wrinkling his nose-- "Eugh, okay, maybe we take the towels to the laundry, too," he mumbles, and digs for one that's not quite so grody.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
Despite his mind's eye thoroughly stolen by the sight of Pavel in the buff, Artyom, thankfully, is able to clean himself quickly and effectively, able to just go through the motions numbly without thinking of them. He's done moments after Pavel is, shutting off his shower... Pavel can probably hear the plip-plap of Artyoms wet feet on the floor and the sound of his little brrrs as he sidles up beside his friend, waiting politely for his turn to get a towel... Spot your little nakey friend a cleanish towel, please?

itsAlana09/16/2018
Pavel offers him the first he finds, even, with a smile, and uses the next one to start drying off, as fast as possible.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
Artyom gives a weak smile to Pavel as he takes the towel, and promptly dumps it over his head to dry his hair with. Also, he can't see Pavel like this!... except he can still see the memory of him even with his eyes closed, oh no!!

Oh well, at least the skinny boy dries off fast, with less surface area to dry than Pavel. Though a bit of moisture still clings to his pale olive skin, spotted here and there with the rare mole, dampness stuck in the fine, sparse hair gathered between his pecs and trailing from his bellybutton to his dick... Hope Pavel is lucky enough to get an eyeful of that, and that petit, cute tush and those slender hips before Artyom retrieves his borrowed change of clothes and starts to dress.

itsAlana09/16/2018
Pavel doesn't stare, but... well... Artyom's a cute kid, yeah? Nothing wrong with taking a look now and then. A man can't turn off his eyes. He kind of wants to poke one of those cute little moles...

He resists, and instead ruffles Artyom's hair again before he starts pulling on his fresh-ish clothes, bundling up the dirty stuff in the grossest towels. "All right, off to laundry!" he says, once everyone's all dressed, and bumps shoulders with Artyom.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
Artyom sputters in surprise at getting his hair ruffled- really! Why does everyone do that! Hair ruffles, they plague his life... (it's because you're young and cute, Artyom) Anyways, he's dressed, though he feels a little weird... His clothes were already hand-me-downs, but it's a bit different when it's actually someone else's clothes borrowed. He has to take a moment to roll up the pant legs before putting on his boots, and then he's all dressed, and he just feels... weird. It doesn't help that he doesn't have an undershirt on under these shirts, which are already baggy on his skinny frame. Despite being two layers of shirt, he feels uncomfortably naked and exposed when he can't feel the close-fitting fabric of an undershirt.

Also, it smells kinda like Pavel. In a comforting way.

As Artyom is ready to follow Pavel, he starts removing things from his coat and putting them in borrowed pockets- some bullets, some balled up pieces of paper, his lighter, his clipboard, etc...

itsAlana09/16/2018
Pavel waits for Artyom to finish transferring his effects-- it'd be a shame, losing MGRs to the washtubs!-- and then leads the way to the laundry, where they wash what they can as clean as they can and hang them up on the clothesline. There's a couple people working there, washing uniforms en masse, and they take a token from Pavel (clearly made out of some old-world coin that's been filed down, drilled through so it can hang from a string, and had a number stamped on it) and hang it from the line with their clothes; Pavel explains to Artyom, "They won't let you take anything back out unless you have your number, yeah? Keeps things from getting stolen. Well, it doesn't, but it makes it less bad than it could be, yeah? We're 1532-- I can get you a set for yourself later, if you want."

And then: back to Pavels room, or...? "You wanna go home, or look around the station?" Pavel asks, as they wander away from the laundry, arm falling comfortably around Artyom. "Or we could go back to working, this has been a pretty long lunch break... but I don't really want to."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
Artyom's perpetual melancholy manages to move to the sidelines for a few minutes, to let Artyom marvel a little at their laundry system. Clever! Efficient! Pavel can admire how cute Artyom is like this, all young and wide-eyed and interested, especially as he nods along with Pavel's explanation.

But then they leave the laundry behind, and Artyom is holding his clipboard against his chest... "Ummm..." He hums in thought when the decision is given to him, frowning slightly... In truth, he'd really like to go back home. Even though he logically knows he's completely dressed, he feels uncomfortably exposed without an undershirt under these clothes. But he also would feel pretty bad about ditching the rest of the work day...

"Would it be alright to just go home?" He writes, having shifted his clipboard in his hands, and Pavel can take note of how charmingly cute it is that Artyom hasn't had a chance to roll up the sleeves of his borrowed shirts, out they hang over his hands, the tips of his fingers poking out. Poor, short, skinny boy! "I'm not a stranger to playing hookey, but I usually wait until it's not my first month."

itsAlana09/16/2018
Pavel laughs, and says, "Well, you're not even a citizen yet, I don't think anyone can get mad at you for shirking work--" and he bumps his cheek against Artyom's damp hair, affectionately. "Yeah, let's go home. We can unpack your bags more, maybe, and figure out how to shelve your books..."
Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
Artyom makes a quite noise at Pavel's affection, his cheeks tinting (and for a moment all he can remember is Pavel wet and naked in the showers). "We could get my head shorn, too." He writes, before Pavel can head off. "Or should that wait?"

itsAlana09/16/2018
"Ahh, right, that too!" Pavel says, and a grin crosses his face. "Not that the fluff isn't cute, but it could use a trim." And maybe... "Yeah, that's not too far out of the way, let's do that on the way home." And away they go! Pavel know the station like the back of his hand, and he unneringly guides Artyom across the main gallery again-- don't think about it, Artyom-- and into a little doorless room on the other side, where a soldier is getting his hair shaved off by an elderly man. "Hey, Grandpa Ivan!" Pavel greets, "can you fit my friend into your busy schedule? He wants to get trimmed up-- not a shave, leave a little fluff on him, he needs the insulation--"

"I got it," the old man grumbles, and points Artyom at a vacant chair next to the first.

"Thanks, Gramps," Pavel says, and CRUELLY ABANDONS ARTYOM with a pat on the shoulder and a bright, "I'll see you in five!" before RUNNING OFF WITHOUT HIM.

He's probably up to something.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
Artyom is nodding along until Pavel takes off, and Artyom has to follow- he tries to make note of paths and locations as they move through the station, but it's a bit of a blur following behind Pavel, who clearly knows the place like his own apartment. It's all Artyom can do to reach out and hold onto the back of Pavel's jacket as he's led along- especially when they pass through the main hall, and Artyom has to lower his gaze to the tiled floor. He tries not to think about it. He thinks about it a little anyways.

And then they arrive at what is effectively the barber, there to give everyone uniform shaves and crew cuts. Artyom rolls his eyes at the comment about insulation- not everyone has a layer of warm, Pavel!- and goes to obey the old man's directions- only for Pavel to pat him on the shoulder and big farewell before CRUELLY ABANDONING HIM!! Even if he said it was for five, Artyom panics slightly at being left alone in the middle of the strange Red station, but he powers through it. He only looks a little like a spooked small animal as he takes a seat in the vacant chair 'Grandpa Ivan' indicated.

itsAlana09/16/2018
Pavel is a monster!! A cruel monster!! Artyom should fight him, naked, in bed.

Anyways Grampa Ivan finishes up with the soldier in good speed, and takes a short look at Artyom-- whose hair is probably still damp, in the chill of the tunnels-- before wrapping a cloth around his shoulders and picking up his scissors and a comb. He is not the most talkative barber, and, in fact, does not say a single fucking word to Artyom, just little noises as he trims Artyom's hair.

Before he's even done, Pavel reappears in the doorframe, leaning against it with a smug look on his face and a new bulge under his jacket. He must have gotten something while he was away...

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
I DON'T KNOW, THAT SOUNDS KINDA UN-HETEROSEXUAL...

Artyom's hair is absolutely still damp, and also soft and fluffy like a duckling. But not for long! Artyom is a good client and stays nice and still as the cloth is wrapped about his shoulders and the comb and scissors come to his hair, closing his eyes. While he generally enjoys when others fill the silence for him, he's actually equally comfortable when others are quiet, too, so long as it's not an awkward silence. And this doesn't feel awkward. Just two quiet people, both being quiet. It's actually kinda nice.

Artyom starts to feel eyes on him towards the end, though, and peeks his eyes open- catching sight of Pavel loitering in the doorway with *something* under his jacket, hmmmm. Pavel is definitely getting a raised eyebrow thrown his way.

itsAlana09/16/2018
lmao cute...
Pavel mirrors the raised eyebrow, and then a lopsided smile breaks across his face. "Looks good, Gramps!" he flatters, and Ivan ignores him, until Pavel slips into the room and drops a few bullets on his table.

That gets a "... Thanks," rather grudgingly, and a few more snips before Ivan brushes Artyom's trimmings to the floor and takes the cloth from around him, and says, "You're done."

There is a mirror, cracked and cloudy but usable, on the table, if Artyom wants to take a look...
Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
Artyom squints at Pavel's suspiciousness, but he's sure whatever surprise Pavel is hiding, the man won't be able to keep it to himself for long. And then Artyom is done, and he climbs out of his chair, brushing a hand through his now clean AND trimmed hair as he takes a peek at the mirror, hoping the barber didn't make it too short- it looks fine, though! Not as fluffy, but definitely fuzzy.

He throws a thankful smile over his shoulder at Ivan, and sidles back up to Pavel's side, raising an eyebrow at him again. Okay, you, either spill it, or take him home and spill it there.
itsAlana09/16/2018
Pavel grins, linking elbows with Artyom, and asks, innocently, "What's that face for, priyatel? You look like you think I have something up my sleeve..."
Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
Artyom tilts his head at Pavel with a deadpan 'Really??' expression. Oh, he knows it's not up your sleeve. It's up your jacket! Well, whatever, Pavel's getting an eyeroll now, and a nudge from Artyom's elbow against his side as their arms are linked. Well, take him home, then!
itsAlana09/16/2018
Pavel laughs at his face, and leads him along, with a bright chatter about what they might do tomorrow, probably get Artyom made citizen, get it all out of the way and get whatever else he'd like to have, that he'll have a right to... it's all very cheerful, and will hopefully distract Artyom as they cross the gallery.

It's not long at all before they're home, Pavel ushering Artyom in and casually stretching, no big deal... nothing under his jacket... nothing for Artyom to be curious about...
Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
It's a little distracting, yeah... but only a little. Unfortunately, the talk about his citizenship in the Red Line and the thoroughfare Pavel once had him dragged through while talking about turning him traitor combine into a poor taste and sticks badly in his throat. But he knows Pavel doesn't mean it to, so he tries to push it aside.

But then they're home, and Pavel is being *awfully* dramatic about Acting Normal, and Artyom rolls his eyes again, before poking Pavel in the bulge in his gut, raising his eyebrow... then he brings up his clipboard, writing quickly, "You gained some weight. You were already a little soft but not that round!"
itsAlana09/16/2018
Pavel laughs at the poke, and laughs again at the joking, and says, "Artyom! I just worked out a bit. Those are my abs, see? That's why they're so hard!"

What a joker, that Pavel! But he unbuttons his jacket, and reaches in, and produces... a bound stack of paper, a bundle of pens, and a little jar of ink. The pens are clearly Metro-made dip pens, made of scavenged metal, but the ink looks like it might be old world, incredibly precious; the paper is hand-made, probably recycled from dissolving magazines and newspapers before they melted away into the debris of the Metro, and it's not exactly white.

It's apparently for him, Pavel offering it all as one stack, though there's still a (much smaller) bulge in his jacket...
Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
Artyom's eyes widen when he realizes what it is Pavel has taken from his jacket, and he takes a small, surprised breath- and then lets it out in a soft, slightly emotional "Oh..."

His hands are careful as he reaches out to take this gift, and then he... he holds the items against his chest, in his arms, and looks just a little bit overwhelmed. If this was just an idea Pavel had on a whim, he clearly made a great call, because Artyom is looking like he might as well be a street orphan from a Dickens novel that just received his first Christmas gift. He looks down at the items in his arms, and then looks back up at Pavel to smile so brightly it shines through his dark clouds of melancholy.

Obviously, this sort of gift means a lot to Artyom, if Pavel hadn't guessed.

itsAlana09/16/2018
Pavel kind of... he thought... well, it's Artyom's voice, isn't it? And pens, the kind you dip in ink, they're going to last longer than pencils, where the lead wears away... "There's, uh, not a whole lot of old-world ink like that left," he says, "but there's some guys out on the Hanza ring that've started figuring out how to make ink out of mushrooms-- I fucking swear, next year our clothes are gonna be made of mushrooms-- it's pretty expensive, but, uh, you'll be getting a little from the Red Line once you're a citizen, right?" He sits on the bed, and beckons Artyom to join him, reaching into his jacket again. "I found something else, too..."

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
Pavel's a pretty smart cookie- because that's exactly why it means so much to him. His voice, his words, are written, his only way of communicating... And Pavel guessed right that Artyom would appreciate it. He's all smiles as Pavel explains that Artyom could get some replacement ink later when he starts getting paid, and he's just... utterly elated, really, that he would be given such a thoughtful give. He makes a soft noise, still a little overwhelmed, but he manages to snap out of it enough to show some curiosity at what else Pavel could've brought for him, raising both eyebrows.

itsAlana09/16/2018
Pavel pulls out... a filthy children's book, dog-eared, crayoned, and slightly gnawed upon by little teeth, but underneath all that, it's... "It's, uh, not the version I read," he says, and offers it to Artyom, "but maybe it'll do until I find a better copy, yeah?"

It's some children's cartoony retelling of The Three Musketeers, with big, easy print and small, easy words and drawings of the Musketeers and d'Artagnan as cute animals in fancy clothes, and Pavel is pretty sure it's below Artyom's reading level, but he hopes it'll still make his friend smile.

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
It takes Artyom a moment to realize what he's looking at- and then he laughs, but not mockingly. It's a sweet, pleased laugh as he takes the children's adaptation of the Three Musketeers, grinning down at the childish cartoon animal versions of the titular characters. Oh no, this is *cute*... both the book itself, and Pavel wanting Artyom to have even a cutesy cliffnotes version of the story to tide him over until he can someday read the real thing.

Artyom has to go set all these things down at the table so his hands can be free enough to talk, but then he's scribbling away excitedly at his clipboard for Pavel. "It'll have to be good enough until I can enjoy the real thing. At least it's very cute." He writes, grinning still. "How did you get all of this while I was getting my hair cut? This is all amazing, Pavel."

itsAlana09/16/2018
"There's a woman who sets up shop in the main gallery, sometimes, sells stationary-- I saw her on the way in, when we first arrived, but I didn't think about it then-- and I was like, hey! My new secretary is gonna need paper and stuff, right?" He grins at Artyom, and says, "And, uh, she had this box of books with her today, and I saw this one while she was counting my bullets... I didn't even know it was there, but I knew you had to have it, you know?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
Artyom is still all smiles, and even chuckles when he's called Pavel's new secretary. Pavel really did a number on Artyom's sad mood from earlier... Before, Artyom was all depressed and miserable and now, even if it may only be temporary, he's so pleased and happy, seeming so impressed with Pavel. "Thank you." He writes, biting his lower lip through a smile. "This all means a lot to me, you know."

itsAlana09/16/2018
"Ahhh, priyatel, I'd hoped it would," he says, and-- is Artyom sitting on the bed with him? If so, Artyom's gonna get pulled into a big one-armed hug against Pavel's side as the man says, "I didn't want you to forget how to smile, you know? What kind... what kind of musketeer would I be if I didn't look out for you?"

Potente Byrd Mæmes09/16/2018
Artyom had come to sit with Pavel, yeah, because it's easier for him to talk with someone he's sitting beside. It's also, evidently, easier to be hugged by someone he's sitting beside, and he makes a surprised sound as he's pulled into a one-armed hug against his friend's (warm) side. He laughs a little, sounding a bit breathless, and instead of answering with words, he turns himself enough to wrap both arms around Pavel, returning the hug twofold.

itsAlana09/16/2018
this is gay and pavels ok with it

pavels maybe a little in love