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.]
Not too late if there's a year or two left in him.
[Yeah, nobody ever taught this kid that you're supposed to respect all your elders, not just the ones to whom you swore eternal loyalty.
It takes a bit of trial and error-- made more difficult by the fact that Firo's never really worked with tools-- but he eventually finds the screwdriver and hands it over. He peers at the rest of the toolbox's contents curiously, idly wondering what they do. He's not going to even try and put in the mental effort to figure it out by himself, however slight that may be. Maybe he'll ask Mr. Master Fixer later.
He glances up at Ivan, chuckling a bit at his comment. It doesn't really bother him how divided the city's immigrant groups are; that's just how it's always been.]
"Not one a' you," yeah. It's pretty funny how different things are over here.
[And yet how similar they are. There's trash and beggars and desperation just like any other corner of the city.]
[Ivan snorts, brushing hair back out of his eyes as he works on fixing up the door.]
You can try but he doesn't speak English, might not be as easy as you are thinking.
[Here he tosses a bit of an impish smile Firo's way and catches the way Firo's looking over the scant amount of tools Ivan owns. Faintly he wonders if he'd never seen more than basics given the confused way he skims over the different tools. Ah, well, that's not his problem is it? So Ivan turns back to the door, fixes the hinge and smiles when it settles back into place.]
Eh? Is it? [There's a pause, because Ivan doesn't often head into the other immigrant groups turf, not really the best place for a relatively new, obviously Russian guy to wander into. So he blinks at Firo, head tilted ever so slightly.]
I've found beatin' some sense into people is a pretty universal language.
[The sulk is short-lived, however. He'd rather talk, get to know this guy better.]
Yeah, a bit. 'Least where I grew up, an old guy like your sourpuss friend wouldn't let somebody get between him and a potential fight. People over here seem a bit friendlier. Then there's the language and everything...
[ Though it's worth noting that Firo's view has been a bit warped by his tendency to stray towards the roughest corners, especially in his childhood.]
[There's a momentary pause as he tries to make sure the door works perfectly before he tucks his tools into place and picks up the bundle.]
---Friendlier? [A blink, and he tips his head as Ivan thinks this over.] Not necessarily, it's just easier to side step when you know where the trouble dwells.
[There's also the fact that though he's got a relatively calm exterior, Ivan still looks intimidating and can ward people off without really trying. But hey, use what you got, right?]
[He folds his arms and raises an eyebrow as he watches Ivan test the door. Was that an insult?]
Whaddaya mean by that?
[Firo's situation is the opposite; he looks so puny that even kids have tried to take him on, and his temper just makes most fights worse.]
Yeah? Who makes the trouble around here?
[As far as he knows, this place doesn't fall inside any Family's jurisdiction. Maybe Lansky or Buchalter has a claim, or maybe there are just smaller gangs.]
[Ivan pauses again, blinks and tosses a confused look over his shoulder.] Pardon?
[Sorry, but Ivan isn't quite sure what Firo's getting all up in arms about so he kind of just unsures and checks his bundle of tools once more before he tucks it into the crook of his arm.]
Mm, depends. I am not usually getting in their way.
[He shrugs a shoulder, not really concerned with it.]
[When he realizes that Ivan's question is genuinely curious and not coy mocking, he decides to drop it. Touchy as he is, Ivan hasn't really given him a reason to get worked up yet, and the guy might still be pretty new to city etiquette (or lack thereof).]
Never mind.
[He shrugs and rises to his feet.]
Depends? So you got more than one group workin' this place?
[Then it probably is the smaller gangs, he assumes. And he can't help but wonder if that means there's opportunity for his Family here.]
[He's just a farm boy from the Motherland, don't beat him up Firo---!! That said, Ivan waits for Firo to scramble to his feet before he nods and heads off towards where Zaslavsky had tottered off to. Time to get his meager payment and scurry out of here.]
Da, they are how you say, not big deal? [Ivan tips his head to the side, frowns a bit.] That is not right I think.
[Firo's a strong, independent delinquent, he'll beat up whomever he wants!
Firo trails behind, not sure where they're going but content to follow. His pressing business has been taken care of for now, and even beside that he's thoroughly distracted by his interest in the new guy. And if he stopped to think about it, right now he's being helpful by getting information on other territories, isn't he?]
Sounds right to me, if they're just a buncha' small gangs. They're not a big deal; they're small fries?
[...Firo, if someone's having difficulty with slang, it's not a good idea to use more slang.]
There's a low grumble from the room Ivan pokes his head in, and a rapid fire burst of Russian conversation before Ivan's ducking his head in thanks and accepting the small payment Zaslavsky gives him. It's not much, but it's something and he can use it to bring his sisters to his side once more. There's a brief pause, Ivan carefully hiding away his money and then he turns and faces Firo, thinks about his question.]
Small fries means gangs? [He still doesn't understand a lot of the slang! But he's trying]
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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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[Yeah, nobody ever taught this kid that you're supposed to respect all your elders, not just the ones to whom you swore eternal loyalty.
It takes a bit of trial and error-- made more difficult by the fact that Firo's never really worked with tools-- but he eventually finds the screwdriver and hands it over. He peers at the rest of the toolbox's contents curiously, idly wondering what they do. He's not going to even try and put in the mental effort to figure it out by himself, however slight that may be. Maybe he'll ask Mr. Master Fixer later.
He glances up at Ivan, chuckling a bit at his comment. It doesn't really bother him how divided the city's immigrant groups are; that's just how it's always been.]
"Not one a' you," yeah. It's pretty funny how different things are over here.
[And yet how similar they are. There's trash and beggars and desperation just like any other corner of the city.]
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You can try but he doesn't speak English, might not be as easy as you are thinking.
[Here he tosses a bit of an impish smile Firo's way and catches the way Firo's looking over the scant amount of tools Ivan owns. Faintly he wonders if he'd never seen more than basics given the confused way he skims over the different tools. Ah, well, that's not his problem is it? So Ivan turns back to the door, fixes the hinge and smiles when it settles back into place.]
Eh? Is it? [There's a pause, because Ivan doesn't often head into the other immigrant groups turf, not really the best place for a relatively new, obviously Russian guy to wander into. So he blinks at Firo, head tilted ever so slightly.]
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I've found beatin' some sense into people is a pretty universal language.
[The sulk is short-lived, however. He'd rather talk, get to know this guy better.]
Yeah, a bit. 'Least where I grew up, an old guy like your sourpuss friend wouldn't let somebody get between him and a potential fight. People over here seem a bit friendlier. Then there's the language and everything...
[ Though it's worth noting that Firo's view has been a bit warped by his tendency to stray towards the roughest corners, especially in his childhood.]
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[There's a momentary pause as he tries to make sure the door works perfectly before he tucks his tools into place and picks up the bundle.]
---Friendlier? [A blink, and he tips his head as Ivan thinks this over.] Not necessarily, it's just easier to side step when you know where the trouble dwells.
[There's also the fact that though he's got a relatively calm exterior, Ivan still looks intimidating and can ward people off without really trying. But hey, use what you got, right?]
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Whaddaya mean by that?
[Firo's situation is the opposite; he looks so puny that even kids have tried to take him on, and his temper just makes most fights worse.]
Yeah? Who makes the trouble around here?
[As far as he knows, this place doesn't fall inside any Family's jurisdiction. Maybe Lansky or Buchalter has a claim, or maybe there are just smaller gangs.]
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[Sorry, but Ivan isn't quite sure what Firo's getting all up in arms about so he kind of just unsures and checks his bundle of tools once more before he tucks it into the crook of his arm.]
Mm, depends. I am not usually getting in their way.
[He shrugs a shoulder, not really concerned with it.]
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Never mind.
[He shrugs and rises to his feet.]
Depends? So you got more than one group workin' this place?
[Then it probably is the smaller gangs, he assumes. And he can't help but wonder if that means there's opportunity for his Family here.]
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Da, they are how you say, not big deal? [Ivan tips his head to the side, frowns a bit.] That is not right I think.
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Firo's a strong, independent delinquent, he'll beat up whomever he wants!Firo trails behind, not sure where they're going but content to follow. His pressing business has been taken care of for now, and even beside that he's thoroughly distracted by his interest in the new guy. And if he stopped to think about it, right now he's being helpful by getting information on other territories, isn't he?]
Sounds right to me, if they're just a buncha' small gangs. They're not a big deal; they're small fries?
[...Firo, if someone's having difficulty with slang, it's not a good idea to use more slang.]
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Yeah that's what he thinks!!!There's a low grumble from the room Ivan pokes his head in, and a rapid fire burst of Russian conversation before Ivan's ducking his head in thanks and accepting the small payment Zaslavsky gives him. It's not much, but it's something and he can use it to bring his sisters to his side once more. There's a brief pause, Ivan carefully hiding away his money and then he turns and faces Firo, thinks about his question.]
Small fries means gangs? [He still doesn't understand a lot of the slang! But he's trying]
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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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