profession | inbox. ( eudio )

Would you like to get coffee?

Or tea?

[ she already knows he'll say no to the gaby + booze combination. ]

[ She's not wrong, on the booze front. ]

Coffee is fine. Do you have a place in mind?

Your choice. I can meet you there.

There's a cafe near the firing range. Meet you in half an hour?

[ firing range? is she surprised, not really. ]

That would be good. See you soon.

[ she has to find the firing range first, so he will no doubt beat her there. ]

[ Where else would a Russian ball of anger hide??? ]

Til then.

[ He only suggests it because he's already there - she's correct in assuming he'd beat her to the cafe. He's even scouted the place out, like a good little spy should. ]

[ of course he has.

meanwhile gaby wanders up with her head ducked looking at her phone, lifting to swivel back behind her as if making sure she came in the right direction before she decides that yes, she is going in the right direction. and then, voila, she is at the cafe, tucking a curl behind her ear before she pushes her sunglasses up into her hair. ]

Privet, Illya, [ she greets with a faint smile, the basic level russian softened by her accent. always going to sound german, even in russian. ]

Hallo, Gaby.

[ He nods at her in greeting, and stands up to pull her a chair. There's already two cups of coffee - black as anything, one sweetened and one made more bitter like some sort of personal atonement. (He never pretended not to be a cliche.) She looks good, as always, but he keeps that thought to himself. ]

You didn't have trouble finding this place, I hope.

Not too much, no. Thank you.

[ she sits, kind of just draping herself in the chair with the easy, liquid grace that betrays her many years of ballet. ]

I hope you haven't been waiting long.

I don't mind waiting.

[ The hallmark of a good spy: patience. With patience and experience, there is very little that a man cannot do. Or is that borrowing dialogue from somewhere else?

The sentiment stands. ]

Are you having problems with Solo?

Of course not. [ her hands curl around the cup with a smile, bringing it toward her but not lifting it as she shakes her head. ] I am not the one who has problems with Napoleon. Are you having problems with our dear American?

He's annoying as ever, [ which is to say he is having problems with having the American around, purely by virtue of his, well, being around. It's a viciously roundabout kind of logic. ]

He hasn't been bothering you, though, yes? He's behaved? No unwanted advances?

[ ~~What are you, her father???~~ ]

Unwanted advances? [ her eyebrows loft in amusement, but she keeps from laughing because, well, that might be unkind. she sips her coffee instead, setting it down carefully. ]

He is the last person you need to worry about.

[ if she has to hear solo tell her one more time that she and illya are ~in love~, she will hit him with a chair. ]

—Then there is someone to worry about?

[ Carefully - dangerously - he drains his coffee in one go. Solo may be intolerable, but he's familiar, and grudgingly trust-worthy. ]

That is why we're speaking, yes?

[ she makes a face, but she doesn't exactly say no, either. but that's not the point. neither is the fact that he almost just scalded his throat!! which is why she doesn't bring that up, choosing instead a different avenue, dark eyes steady on his face. ]

What would you have to worry about?

[ His coffee's been sitting for five minutes, it's cool enough!!!

Ahem.

He's not going to comment on the fact that her silence doesn't deny the existence of Someone in her general social vicinity, talking her up (probably) and taking her out on dates (definitely). Gaby just gets the smallest narrowing of eyes. ]

Shouldn't you be telling me the answer to that? Am I to be worried?

[ there's a long, protracted silence as gaby's eyes fall to her coffee, sipping it slowly so she won't have to answer.

finally, quietly: ] You never have to worry.

[ she sets the cup down with a soft thud, still quite full, gaze flickering back up to his as if to ask "satisfied?" ]

[ "No."

The silence stretches a bit, between Gaby's setting her cup down to Illya's turning his own clockwise on the saucer. He's burning a hole on the tabletop, trying to discern the identity of this vague, amorphous idea of a Someone without having to ask. ]

All right.

Have you been doing anything to keep busy?

I've made a few friends. German lessons. Exploring mostly. I haven't done much in the way of working toward my incentive...

That is why I wanted to speak to you. [ aside from the fact that she does only have two real friends here and one of them is sitting across from her and she'd rather die than ask solo for help since he would never let her live it down.

literally ever. ]

[ It's like an eighties horror flick - or at least, that cinematic thrill of something secret creeping forward and sinking its claws around the neck the way the hack-and-slash villains would. Illya's facial expression doesn't change one bit from its stoic pose, but there's suddenly a very loud roaring in his ears.

He probably misheard. ]

What about it?

[ her head ducks again, hands falling to her lap where her fingers nervously twist together. she charmed a nazi, that was easy. this? not so much. especially sober. she is far too sober for this. ]

I'd like your help.

[ she needs a drink. she needs an entire bottle. ]

[ He thinks to raise his cup again to occupy his hands before he remembers he's drank all of the coffee already, and now he's at a loss.

Help.

Suddenly he's not sure what to do. ]

I. Hm. You would like to hold hands, yes?

[ part of her had expected a firm no, just out of habit, maybe. yet she's not entirely surprised she isn't being outright denied -- she'd convinced him to dance with her, after all, however short lived dancing was. ]

Yes.

[ no, she would not like to hold hands, but admitting that just feels like weakness. ]

[ Making informed decisions is why spies are in business in the first place - and while this isn't some deep-cover op, Illya is treating it as one anyway, for his own sanity.

How does one deal with any sort of intimacy when one has been raised and taught to shield away from it? It's a decades-long trained reflex. It's hard to break away from. ]

And you would like it to be a regular arrangement?

Very. And I would like my Russian lessons to resume, there are particular phrases that we haven't gotten to yet that I would like to know.

[ she leans back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other at the knee, leaving her hands in her lap. ]

You know I don't sleep very well and I did get used to the company, maybe that might help again. If you're not opposed to that sort of thing.

[ The action draws his attention to her legs— Illya turns his gaze in the exact opposite direction as quickly as his eyes move to where she's folded her hands.

This teacup is in a very dangerous situation. ]

We can continue with the language lessons whenever you like. I'm not opposed to the company.

Would you— Do you intend on moving out? Of your little box apartment.

I don't know where else I would go, [ she offers unhelpfully. it's not that she isn't open to the idea -- personally, she thinks it's stupid to waste money on three leases when the three of them could share but it's taking some time to craft an argument for that. ]

inbox. ( eudio )

text | @teller

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject