[Ivan's brow wrinkles at that even as he sidesteps a swing from the last attacker. Pansies? What did flowers have to do with this? Never the less, the young man is rather vicious in his ability to take care of this and he can't help but feel like things would have been alright even if he hadn't stepped in.]
Ah, that is-[he ducks and kicks the legs out underneath the last man as he does so.] that is being okay then?
[English is hard enough on it's own, but when he's in the middle of a fight, ducking and swerving and feeling the give of skin and bone underneath his hand then it's a whole other kettle of fish. Ivan huffs and his boot lands square in the attacker's sternum. That's definitely going to hurt, and it sends him to the ground once more, dazed and unmoving.]
[Firo watches Ivan take care of the last man, whistling quietly in approval. Firo gives the nearest hoodlum one last kick in the head. He puts his hands back in his pockets, but remains on guard as he approaches Ivan. This guy's shown himself to be no slouch in a fight, completely unlike those other guys.]
Yeah, I think we're done here. If that's what you meant.
[Ivan's wording is a little strange, but isn't quite as confusing as Firo's slang is, probably.]
[Ivan straightens up and brushes blood from his knuckles as he turns and glances down at Firo. This close and not in a fight he's struck by how small the other is, but he just shrugs a shoulder and offers a sheepish smile.]
You could have taken them, da? [He's quite sure of that and it makes him duck his head down in a polite little nod.] They were, ah, pansies was it?
[He's not really a fighter and he still knows that the four men went down remarkably easy. With that in mind he glances about, mildly amazed that the noise of the fight didn't attract attention, but he's still got some manners to remember and he offers up a hand to shake.]
Ivan Ivanovich Bragiski, I apologize for being in the way..?
[And Firo, in turn, is struck by how big this new guy is. He reaches out to shake Ivan's hand-his grip is a little too tight, a product of his constant need to reinforce the idea that he's not weak. He cocks his head to one side, a small smile appearing on his face. Ivan's politeness is weird, but oddly refreshing.]
I coulda'. And they were. But don't apologize, I can't hog all the fun, right?
[He chuckles to himself, then looks up at Ivan with a bigger smile.]
[That grip is a bit tight, but Ivan doesn't respond other than a blink and widening of smile. Well, this guy doesn't seem to be all that bad even though their first interaction was not the healthiest of sorts. He's glad he stopped by and helped.]
Good to meet you too, Firo Prochainezo. [He pulls his hand back and slips them in his pockets. However, now he's wondering why these obviously incompetent men were picking on Firo.] Did they steal something from you?
[He looks confused that Ivan ask that... Until it hits him that a guy that seems this polite might find random street fights a little odd. Heck, even some of Firo's friends find his habit of getting into such situations strange. He shrugs, his smile faltering slightly.]
It was... an argument, I guess.
[Commenting on Firo's appearance is a quick way to a fist in your face, as these guys just found out.]
[Ivan's incredibly relieved that it wasn't because the men stole something that Firo get into the fight, but with that out of the way he's frowns, pondering over the exactly cause. But it's not really his problem and he doesn't want to bother someone more than he already has so he doesn't question it.]
So, Ivan, what're you doin' gettin' involved in random street fights?
[His tone is light enough, but inwardly he's trying to figure out if Ivan will expect some sort of reward for his help. He doesn't seem like any of the shady characters Firo so frequently runs into, but people can always surprise you. On another level, he's just curious. Even if it didn't look like Firo could stand his own, most people wouldn't have stepped in.]
It was not seeming fair to walk past, even if you could have taken them.
[He ruffles a hand through his hair, grins sheepishly because he really didn't do too much and it doesn't see like Firo was mad at him for it, but you never knew. New Yorkers sure were weird.]
[The acknowledgement that Firo could have taken them by himself earns Ivan unbelievable brownie points. He blinks- even if he knows it, he's not used to people acknowledging it- and his smile becomes less guarded.
He chuckles and shrugs his shoulders.]
Well, it wasn't exactly wrong... Just not the usual.
[The thought that Ivan hasn't gotten used to the look-the-other-way attitude of the city, and his accent, make Firo curious.]
Oh. [He blinks and relaxes in return. He was right, New Yorkers are weird, but then again, things were similar back home. The question has him perking up, hands twisting in the cream colored scarf around his neck as he chuckles.]
Yeah, it is. 'Least ya don't look like you're fresh off the boat.
[Which reminds him of just how immigrants- even those with a few months under their belt, but especially the newer ones- can get swallowed up by the city so quickly. Maybe he just met this guy, but Ivan did,/i> help him out. Though he may be capable of throwing a punch, Firo doesn't know how acclimated Ivan is to the ways of the city. Maybe he should give him a bit of a hand.]
[He's going to take that as a good sign, Firo. Don't confuse the poor little Russian boy so! As it is, Ivan blinks, suddenly remembering the package he'd been carrying the the door he was supposed to be fixing and spins on his heel.]
Spasibo! I'd forgotten I had to fix a door, oh he's going to kill me!
[Firo starts at Ivan's sudden exclamation. He'd been planning on inviting the guy back to Alveare for a bit and is a little disappointed to have a wrench thrown into his plans. He's also slightly worried, and gives a wary laugh at Ivan's last statement. Overly cruel bosses are sadly a fact of life, and Firo can't tell if Ivan means it seriously or not.]
You shouldn't be workin' with him if he's that bad.
Huh? [He tosses a look over his shoulder, confused for a second before his brain catches up.] Oh, nyet, I am not working for him. Just fixing things back home.
[Package in hand he offers Firo a warm smile, pleasantly surprised that someone he'd just met would express concern.]
[Firo smiles and chuckles at his mistake. This is one of those times when he's glad to be wrong. He taps his chin and strolls over to Ivan's side, as if he's inviting himself to accompany Ivan. Which he is.]
So, pal, how about once you're done with whatever you need to do for that guy, I take you back to the Family restaurant and you get somethin' to eat. You know, as a sort of thank you.
[He blinks down at Firo, he's a cocky little thing isn't he? But Ivan doesn't mind truly so he shrugs a shoulder, something quite like awe on his face. So nice to this immigrant, you better not treat all your Russian buddies like this!]
You would do that for someone you just met? [ULTERIOR MOTIVES HAVE TO BE SOMEWHERE IN HERE.]
Hey, if two guys have been in a fight together, I don't think they're exactly strangers. So whaddaya say?
[Of course there are ulterior motives afoot. Firo likes to be friendly, to offset all the times a day he punches people. Besides, he's bored and thinks Ivan will be good company.]
Ah, I suppose not then. [Blink blink blink. Well, who was he t refute kindness? So Ivan smiles and nods.]
I'd like that, though I can't say I won't get lost, New York's streets are...twisting?
[Ah, who cares, English had never been his strong suit and he doubts it will ever be. But he gestures for Firo to follow him, package under his arm as he leads him home, past dirty tenement streets packed with Irish and Italians. He's swift, and though the two of them chat he easily steps around the muck in the roads and running children. Eventually the people change, wares sold in the streets becoming something familiar to Ivan, the language shouted from door to door his own. He waves and shouts back a greeting to a young woman with a child at hip ("dobryi vecher Annushka!") before continuing on his way. A little further down he gestures to one of the buildings and heads towards it.]
They are, huh? But don't worry about gettin' lost; I've lived here my whole life.
[Firo follows Ivan, making sure to keep close to his side just in case of another fight, or in case Ivan needs directions. Even if Firo doesn't know exactly where they're going, he's familiar enough with the layout of the city's immigrant slums to guess a general area if need be. It turns out that his directional skills aren't needed (probably a good thing; just because Firo knows the city doesn't mean he won't get sidetracked), so Firo just sticks close. He watches Ivan's exchange with the woman and looks up at his companion as they approach their destination.]
You got a lotta friends here?
[Nobody'd ever waved to his mother like that back when Firo was a child clinging to her side.]
Oh? You were born here then? [He peers at Firo, interested.] Has it always been like this?
[Ivan knows some paths very well, but as soon as it diverges he's lost or trusting his admittedly rather well sense of direction. The slums themselves are winding and rather large but judging by the neighborhoods, relatively easy to maneuver. He blinks down at Firo's question, shrugging a shoulder.]
Acquaintances, more so. I fixed her and her husband's window last winter. It is, kind of what I do?
[He heads up to a door and knocks. There's a long moment of silence before fast footsteps and a grizzled face appear, He takes a second to bark something angry sounding in Russian at Ivan. There's a back and forth conversation, that leaves the young immigrant ducking his head down and murmuring something that sounds like an apology before the man lets them enter. He turns to Firo, gives him a once over and a huff, before heading off towards the back. Ivan shrugs and laughs a bit under his breath]
[He nods at Ivan's mention of his occupation and makes a note of that. Hey, when you're in a violent business stuff is always breaking/being broken; knowing a handy guy could come in handy. And with work so hard to come by sometimes, Ivan might appreciate some job offers.
Firo raises an eyebrow as he watches the exchange and is about to jump in when it abruptly ends. Still pouting slightly- that guy didn't make a good first impression- he looks up at Ivan.]
Doesn't look scary or anything, just seems like kind of a jerk.
[He'd automatically reached out to keep Firo from doing anything and luckily enough Zaslavsky hardly thinks either of them worth notice to comment on that. Not that Firo would understand, the old man hardly speaks a bit of English. Instead Ivan gestures for Firo to follow him and steps quickly through the house, door closing behind them.]
You are lucky he does not speak english, I think. [More soft laughter and a clink as Ivan sets down his package and examines the door he's going to fix. It's actually a pretty easy fix and he hums a bit under his breath as he goes about doing it.] Have you been down here before?
[No, Ivan most certainly doesn't even nurse the idea of being anyone's mom, that's plain ridiculous! But he does know enough to stop a fight he'd have to translate from happening.]
He is old, I hardly think it would mattering.
[And here Ivan notices how carefully Firo treats this. It's almost like a kid watching their Dad fix up a broken car engine and isn't that a funny thought. So here he'll ask for a screwdriver, hardly knowing the words to differentiate between them in English and resorting to wild gestures with his hands and a slipping Russian-English mixture.]
Didn't think so, you're not one of us. [It's calmly stated and true, because there's definitely nothing that would show Firo having to live among the Russians and the Slavic people here.]
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Ah, that is-[he ducks and kicks the legs out underneath the last man as he does so.] that is being okay then?
[English is hard enough on it's own, but when he's in the middle of a fight, ducking and swerving and feeling the give of skin and bone underneath his hand then it's a whole other kettle of fish. Ivan huffs and his boot lands square in the attacker's sternum. That's definitely going to hurt, and it sends him to the ground once more, dazed and unmoving.]
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Yeah, I think we're done here. If that's what you meant.
[Ivan's wording is a little strange, but isn't quite as confusing as Firo's slang is, probably.]
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You could have taken them, da? [He's quite sure of that and it makes him duck his head down in a polite little nod.] They were, ah, pansies was it?
[He's not really a fighter and he still knows that the four men went down remarkably easy. With that in mind he glances about, mildly amazed that the noise of the fight didn't attract attention, but he's still got some manners to remember and he offers up a hand to shake.]
Ivan Ivanovich Bragiski, I apologize for being in the way..?
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I coulda'. And they were. But don't apologize, I can't hog all the fun, right?
[He chuckles to himself, then looks up at Ivan with a bigger smile.]
Firo Prochainezo. It's nice to meet'cha.
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Good to meet you too, Firo Prochainezo. [He pulls his hand back and slips them in his pockets. However, now he's wondering why these obviously incompetent men were picking on Firo.] Did they steal something from you?
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[He looks confused that Ivan ask that... Until it hits him that a guy that seems this polite might find random street fights a little odd. Heck, even some of Firo's friends find his habit of getting into such situations strange. He shrugs, his smile faltering slightly.]
It was... an argument, I guess.
[Commenting on Firo's appearance is a quick way to a fist in your face, as these guys just found out.]
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Ah, then I am glad things figured out?
[What does one say to that, really?]
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So, Ivan, what're you doin' gettin' involved in random street fights?
[His tone is light enough, but inwardly he's trying to figure out if Ivan will expect some sort of reward for his help. He doesn't seem like any of the shady characters Firo so frequently runs into, but people can always surprise you. On another level, he's just curious. Even if it didn't look like Firo could stand his own, most people wouldn't have stepped in.]
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[He ruffles a hand through his hair, grins sheepishly because he really didn't do too much and it doesn't see like Firo was mad at him for it, but you never knew. New Yorkers sure were weird.]
Was that, ah, not the right reaction?
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He chuckles and shrugs his shoulders.]
Well, it wasn't exactly wrong... Just not the usual.
[The thought that Ivan hasn't gotten used to the look-the-other-way attitude of the city, and his accent, make Firo curious.]
You been here long?
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Almost half a year, is it obvious?
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[Which reminds him of just how immigrants- even those with a few months under their belt, but especially the newer ones- can get swallowed up by the city so quickly. Maybe he just met this guy, but Ivan did,/i> help him out. Though he may be capable of throwing a punch, Firo doesn't know how acclimated Ivan is to the ways of the city. Maybe he should give him a bit of a hand.]
Hey, you got anywhere ya need to be?
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Spasibo! I'd forgotten I had to fix a door, oh he's going to kill me!
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You shouldn't be workin' with him if he's that bad.
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[Package in hand he offers Firo a warm smile, pleasantly surprised that someone he'd just met would express concern.]
He is, how you say?, "all bark no bite?"
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[Firo smiles and chuckles at his mistake. This is one of those times when he's glad to be wrong. He taps his chin and strolls over to Ivan's side, as if he's inviting himself to accompany Ivan. Which he is.]
So, pal, how about once you're done with whatever you need to do for that guy, I take you back to the Family restaurant and you get somethin' to eat. You know, as a sort of thank you.
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You would do that for someone you just met? [ULTERIOR MOTIVES HAVE TO BE SOMEWHERE IN HERE.]
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[Of course there are ulterior motives afoot. Firo likes to be friendly, to offset all the times a day he punches people. Besides, he's bored and thinks Ivan will be good company.]
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I'd like that, though I can't say I won't get lost, New York's streets are...twisting?
[Ah, who cares, English had never been his strong suit and he doubts it will ever be. But he gestures for Firo to follow him, package under his arm as he leads him home, past dirty tenement streets packed with Irish and Italians. He's swift, and though the two of them chat he easily steps around the muck in the roads and running children. Eventually the people change, wares sold in the streets becoming something familiar to Ivan, the language shouted from door to door his own. He waves and shouts back a greeting to a young woman with a child at hip ("dobryi vecher Annushka!") before continuing on his way. A little further down he gestures to one of the buildings and heads towards it.]
It is this one.
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[Firo follows Ivan, making sure to keep close to his side just in case of another fight, or in case Ivan needs directions. Even if Firo doesn't know exactly where they're going, he's familiar enough with the layout of the city's immigrant slums to guess a general area if need be. It turns out that his directional skills aren't needed (probably a good thing; just because Firo knows the city doesn't mean he won't get sidetracked), so Firo just sticks close. He watches Ivan's exchange with the woman and looks up at his companion as they approach their destination.]
You got a lotta friends here?
[Nobody'd ever waved to his mother like that back when Firo was a child clinging to her side.]
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[Ivan knows some paths very well, but as soon as it diverges he's lost or trusting his admittedly rather well sense of direction. The slums themselves are winding and rather large but judging by the neighborhoods, relatively easy to maneuver. He blinks down at Firo's question, shrugging a shoulder.]
Acquaintances, more so. I fixed her and her husband's window last winter. It is, kind of what I do?
[He heads up to a door and knocks. There's a long moment of silence before fast footsteps and a grizzled face appear, He takes a second to bark something angry sounding in Russian at Ivan. There's a back and forth conversation, that leaves the young immigrant ducking his head down and murmuring something that sounds like an apology before the man lets them enter. He turns to Firo, gives him a once over and a huff, before heading off towards the back. Ivan shrugs and laughs a bit under his breath]
Don't worry, he's harmless really.
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[He nods at Ivan's mention of his occupation and makes a note of that. Hey, when you're in a violent business stuff is always breaking/being broken; knowing a handy guy could come in handy. And with work so hard to come by sometimes, Ivan might appreciate some job offers.
Firo raises an eyebrow as he watches the exchange and is about to jump in when it abruptly ends. Still pouting slightly- that guy didn't make a good first impression- he looks up at Ivan.]
Doesn't look scary or anything, just seems like kind of a jerk.
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You are lucky he does not speak english, I think. [More soft laughter and a clink as Ivan sets down his package and examines the door he's going to fix. It's actually a pretty easy fix and he hums a bit under his breath as he goes about doing it.] Have you been down here before?
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No harm in makin' somebody more self aware.
[He watches as Ivan gets ready to work and situates himself so that he's out of the way but still close enough to lend a hand if needed.]
Probably once or twice when I was a kid. Not recently, though. I don't really got any business over here anymore.
[Not that he really had business as a kid outside of robbing people.]
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He is old, I hardly think it would mattering.
[And here Ivan notices how carefully Firo treats this. It's almost like a kid watching their Dad fix up a broken car engine and isn't that a funny thought. So here he'll ask for a screwdriver, hardly knowing the words to differentiate between them in English and resorting to wild gestures with his hands and a slipping Russian-English mixture.]
Didn't think so, you're not one of us. [It's calmly stated and true, because there's definitely nothing that would show Firo having to live among the Russians and the Slavic people here.]
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Firo seems so shady in this thread
that's because he is. the shadiest of shady
Leading poor, sweet farm boys astray--! /headshake
poor dear never stood a chance /smh
Oh well /patpat
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Pff, that was too cute
he tries ahaha
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