milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

katya,
skellig

(no subject)

Yekaterina sulks into the bar, muddied from head to foot and soaked to the skin. She's pretty sure she'll be hearing about this 'vacation' option for a very long time. She was just looking for some fun in the summer sun and some freedom from Wonderbread. What she got was a flash-flood and a partner deprived of comfort Chinese food.

Clearly someone needs to pay more attention to causality lines before dragging her partner off to lands unknown.

Some time later she comes down from her rooms, wearing a track suit and the fluffiest of fluffy slippers, and slips behind the bar to gather the ingredients for sbiten and setting a pot of water on the hotplate.

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And some time after that, her partner also arrives downstairs - wearing a pair of thick pajama bottoms and a hooded bathrobe - bare foot.

To the bar, he says: "I would like chow mein, please. Vegetable. And soup. Egg drop." He pauses, but not long enough for bar to think she is getting off easy. "With sweet and sour chicken. And a plate of spring rolls."

And then, to the partner behind the bar:

"I think there is still mud in my ears."

It is not said in a way that would indicate he is displeased with this fact - just a statement.

She shudders delicately, her bangles chiming faintly at the movement.

"I would not be surprised. That was... a lot of mud." And possibly that was the understatement of the year. "Sbiten?"

"Please."

He nods, folding his hands on top of the counter - but only for a moment.

In the next moment, he is rearranging a small container full of sugar packets, sorting them into groups of color.

She nods, and makes sure to add enough ingredients to make at least two very healthy portions.

And she steals a spring roll once they appear, munching at it as she stirs her brew.

"At least your feathers are clean now?"

"They are, though I did not preen as well as I could have. I will do that later."

The sugar packets begin to stack up into a tower, now. Though he does break to eat a spring roll.

"I did not want to get water all over the floor."

"I will preen them after this is finished." She nods, "Bar, some pelmeni?" Her favorite dumplings in the whole wide world show up, cheering her Russian heart.

"I am beginning to worry you are addicted," he says, motioning to the dumplings with his half-eaten spring roll.

It is not like he has any room to talk, however.

"At least it is better than lox."

She eyes his spring-rolls with a knowing look. Addicted. Right.

"Lox is lovely, some day enough time will have passed to repair your damaged taste buds." Katya snorts before plowing into the meal.

"It is not my fault, blame Arthur," Skellig replies, flexing his hands - the joints do not ache as much as they used to, thanks to the occasional maintenance from his partner. "And his damn oil."

Fish oil tablets.

Ugh.

"I shall do so." If she ever meets that boy, she is going to force-feed him fish dishes until he stops ruining fish for other people. "Did the wet make your joints worse?"

He shakes his head.

"Wet is not so bad. Cold is the worst. And damp."

His other Chinese food appears on the countertop, with two extra plates (empty). He piles from the containers onto one plate, and nudges the other bare dish in her direction.

She doesn't argue, taking the plate and loading it down heavily. She spent more than her usual time in the Twlight today, just trying to be fast enough to deal with the worst of the mess. She burned more calories than she really had to spare, so now she needs to eat. She does pause after making half of her pelmeni disappear to pour out two mugs of sbiten.

"Your health."

"And dry towels," he replies, pausing in the feast of Chinese food to accept the mug and take a healthy drink of the warm liquid it holds.

She stuffs another spring roll into her mouth and shuffles around the bar, her fluffy fluffy slippers not made for bar-hopping. Her hands are warm (for reasons magical and not) as she curls them under his collar.

He grumbles something under his breath after he's swallowed the mouthful of sbiten and looks up at her. It may have sounded suspiciously like just what are you doing, possibly in a language that is neither English or Russian.

(But he is not ungrateful - he never is.)

"Defeating cold." She mutters back at him, but definitely in Russian. "You would complain about fleas if you had to warm up later."

"They are such a waste of insect," he replies, also in Russian. Mostly. "No calories."

She makes a face at him, mostly to avoid collapsing into giggles.
"Honestly? That's it. From here on out, only cockroach and wonderbread sandwiches. Bah." Her grumble is just as fierce as it is fake.

"When do we start?"

He knows she is being silly, because there is no way she would ever eat Wonderbread unless it was under possession by a Dark Other or some alternatively unpleasant option.

"Right now. Here, you get one from bar, and I will spare you from all of this." She waves a hand at their meal.

He looks mournfully at the Chinese food and pelmeni, then looks back at her with the same expression.

"Perhaps tomorrow," is all he says, before reloading his plate with more of the vegetable chow mein.

"Mmmhmm." She smirks, shifting to claim the next barstool, and drag her plate of pelmeni over. She spent far too long in the Gloom today, and she gets the feeling Olga would disapprove mightily if she openly took strength here. Pelmeni's a good substitute.

Skellig leans against her and turns his head, whispering something in a rattling voice in her ear.

(It is most definitely not Russian.)

Then he winks at her.

She should feel better soon. Not a hundred percent, as he's not that strong here in the bar, but it should help. As will the Pelmeni.

"I think next we should find a beach," he says.

"That's my job." She grumbles, leaning against him. She used to grumble the exact same way at Bear, when he hauled her out of trouble. The more things change...

"A beach? You miss your seagulls."

"They are much better conversationalists than the meerkats were," he points out.

"There are many rocks that are better conversationalists than the meerkats." Katya points out dryly, stretching to grab her mug. "Your example says nothing about the abilities of sea gulls."

"If we go to the beach, we can have lobsters again."

He might have thought he would have gotten tired of lobster, but part of him still wishes to eat all of them, until they have been wiped from the earth like the plague that they are.

She hums approval of this plan, because she still carries a bit of a grudge against the lobsters. Besides, she didn't frequently have a chance to have lobster in her old life - the novelty of it is fun.

"I suppose if we must eat bugs, sea-bugs are the best way to go."

"But first, we can stay for awhile. Here."

It will take time to get all the mud out of his hair, after all. His feathers? Those are another matter entirely.

"They are much better than cockroaches," Skellig adds. "Cockroaches are so...bitter."

"You just want your chance to meet Antosha." She teases cheerfully, pushing the empty pelmeni plate away.

"Perhaps."

Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. The guessing game is what makes being partners so much fun. Skellig smirks.

"Plus, we can swim here without worrying about a scene."

"No breaking Moscow Watch." She cuffs him lightly, stealing another spring roll. "Though a swim would be nice. There's a beach at the Caribbean suitably slothful there. Maybe drown the mermaid."

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