milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

ellen park,
katya

(no subject)

There hasn't been a lot of time for Pavel to show up to the bar; while none of it is incredibly exciting to anyone not going through Starfleet Academy, the result of several months' absence is noticeable. Instead of the Academy red uniform, Pavel comes in wearing a somewhat plainer set of black trousers and a black undershirt, pulling on a gold overshirt.

He looks incredibly happy at this development, at least. Enough to not notice that his door disappears a moment after it shuts behind him.

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Eek. Well, sometimes these things happen.

For what it's worth there's someone in power armor with a glass of something alcoholic in one gauntleted hand, waving with the other.

He waves back once he looks up and sees Ellen, coming over. "Privyet!" he greets with a smile.

"Hawe you been back to your vorld since I vas last here?"

"Mostly that's where I've been, actually," Ellen says, and ineffectually tries to wipe at her nose with that free hand. "Ow. Bad move on my part.... I just got back earlier today. Not sure how long it's been here, though."

"I don't know. It has been seweral months for me, but I hawe not been able to come in for some time," Pavel says, with a shrug of apology. He does, however, offer her a handkerchief.

"Perhaps you should take ze armor off if you vill be here for a while."

"Thank you," says Ellen as she has a go at her face. "And I'm going to, in a bit. The process takes a good fifteen minutes, though. I'm just- I'll do it soon."

"Velcome," he returns, unable to quite dim his smile. "I hope ewerything went alright?"

"Pretty much. I need to get the armor repaired," Ellen says, "but everyone made it out alive, nobody was badly hurt, and we got the Tesla coil I was sent in after. So it's all good."

Pavel's clothing has just sunk in.

"Something changed at school, didn't it."

"Da," he nods. "I am commissioned now. As an ensign," he explains.

"Vhy did you need a Tesla coil?"

"Congratulations!" Ellen beams. "That's wonderful. Do you have your assignment yet?"

Then she sobers a little. "It's a long story," she says. "But the short version is that it was an experimental pre-war model, and the Brotherhood of Steel needs it to make into an anti-aircraft weapon, since our old option was destroyed."

Pavel sobers a little, shaking his head. "Nyet, I do not hawe my assignment yet, but I vas at ze top of my class. I should get to choose vhere I go," he says.

"Do you need help viz transporting it? Or assembling weaponry?"

"The Scribes in the Order of the Sword will handle the assembly when I get back to the Citadel," Ellen assures him. "Fawkes and I should be able to get back there safely by ourselves. That's Fawkes over there," she adds, indicating a green-skinned fellow of about eight or nine feet in height, stuffed with more muscles than a Jean-Claude Van Damme movie, wearing the tattered remains of a Vault suit. He appears to be offering Dogmeat a scrap of jerky in exchange for the dog rolling over. "Too many people and the Enclave will take notice."

Pavel follows her indication, and blinks at the large green-skinned fellow. "And he is... Vhat is he?"

"A supermutant," Ellen says quietly. "A former human. One of only two I've ever met who weren't rage-driven cannibals."

"Oh...my. He is safe, da?" he asks. While he's seen people stranger looking, he'd quite dislike it if Ellen was hurt.

Ellen nods. "He's saved my life several times," she says. "Remember when I had radiation poisoning? He's the only reason I got out of there alive- he dragged me out. Believe me, he's as civilized and intelligent as anybody here."

"Someday I vould like to talk to him," he says, considering. "But I am afraid today, my conwersation skills are sub par. It has been quite ze long few months."

"I'll let him know," Ellen says. "He's come here a few times by himself, so I'll have him keep an eye out for you... and I'm sorry, I've been hogging the conversation. It must've been something, getting to this point in your training."

"You are not," he protests. "Zere is not much to talk about zat you vould recognize. It has just been wery busy viz classes," he says. "I am glad I am done. In theory."

In theory only, because he knows something will happen that the Academy did not train him for. What exactly that will be, though, is anyone's guess.

Ellen nods. "So it's on-the-job training now, I'm guessing," she says. "Unless I missed something there."

"It is, yes. Or zat is close enough," he says. "I am an ensign, yes, but I am wery new at it. And I vill be younger zan most of any crew I join." More like all, but he won't quantify it so certainly yet.

"So I vill still be learning."

"Good luck with it," says Ellen. "When do you get your actual posting?"

She's just a tiny bit jealous. It would've been nice to get as close to the actual chaplaincy as Pavel is to his job.

Oh, well, nothing to be done about it now.

"A few veeks, perhaps a month," he says. "Perhaps in zat time I could show you San Francisco? It is a wery nice city, and perhaps it vould be a reprieve from your missions."

And he feels a little bit bad for having succeeded in getting this far in his job when Ellen didn't, or couldn't.

"That might be a good idea," Ellen says. "I don't know where I'm going to be sent once I get back to the Citadel, but it can't hurt to see other places..."

"You vill like ze city. It is wery pleasant, and mostly peaceful."

~~The narration has no idea what Gene Roddenberry was thinking, but they'll go with it.~~

"I've been to Washington DC in Mr. Mills' world," Ellen says. "If it's anything like that, it should be nice."

"It is wery nice," he smiles. "It is not Moscow, but it vill do."

"I should hope it's not Moscow," says Ellen. "I can't speak a word of Russian."

He chuckles, shaking his head at that. "Nyet, most people speak Standard as vell. You vould be easily understood ewen in my hometown."

"Oh, good," says Ellen. "Not that it's ever likely to happen, but- you know."

"Is better to be prepared."

"That is better." She notes, somewhat grudgingly. It isn't great, but it's better than the red monstrosity he had been wearing.

Perhaps she could talk them into bangles.

"Ze Academy uniforms are horrible," he admits with a small grin. "But I suppose they must be distincitwe..."

"One must make it clear who to shoot first, after all." Katya snorts, tucking a somewhat fuzzy lock of hair behind her ear.

"Ah, yes. Ze redshirts. Security and communications, but communications officers almost newer leawe ze ship."

"Some poor souls have to stay in that red monstrosity? How terrible. Have you gotten your sea-legs yet?"

What?

Ships go on water.

Everyone knows this.

He chuckles. "I hawe not been posted to a ship. But I do not need sea-legs," Pavel says. "Starfleet operates in space, not water."

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