you don’t have to worry about me saying anything to spare your pride. you have enough of it for the both of us. it’s both incredibly frustrating and impressive.
you never have to worry that i won’t tell you the truth, either. for example, i had a brief but satisfying fantasy of tossing you into the harbor when you started feeling sorry for yourself. my new tattoo reminds me of you, and i was going to show it to you. it would have been a more romantic gesture than destroying your furniture. most of all, i kept looking for you everywhere before i realized you were gone. we’re both half-brained idiots, you know. pushing each other away because we’re afraid of losing each other, when we did just that for awhile. lost each other.
if i promise to tell you, will you promise me the same? tell me if you’re unhappy, or unsure? i’m not perfect, either. you’ll learn that soon enough.
your fantasy might not have gone as you imagined. you know i'm an excellent swimmer and i happen to look exceptional while dripping wet.
i shouldn't have cut our conversation short. i admit i was running away. it's always been easier for me to throw myself into another project rather than feel a loss for what it is.
yes. i promise to do the same. will you still show it to me? your tattoo?
that only adds to my fantasy. you would have looked very pretty while i held your head underwater.
so we’re both cowards with a habit of running away. if you had looked more closely, you would have seen that i was still there. and your shelf would have survived its fatal and gruesome injuries. your coping methods might be better than mine.
i don’t know if i should. i’m waiting until it’s too late for you to run away from me once you’ve seen it. and, honestly, it’s going to make your ego even more insufferable.
then perhaps i should be thanking you for running off with my coat and my keys before giving in to the temptation to drown me.
would it be better if i blamed mal for the shelf instead? it fits his brand. we'll find new coping mechanisms. ones involving less destruction. or at least less destruction of things we own.
that's fair on one count. my ego is perfect and takes no criticism. when you feel comfortable enough to believe that i won't run off, then show it to me. waiting for you is hardly an inconvenience, starlight.
i'm not giving it back. well, i'll give it back, but only long enough for it to smell like you again.
i hear it's bad etiquette to give away the names of my accomplices. i'll pay the time for my crime alone. you only need to tell me what my penance will be. can we keep the destruction of desks on the list? that should count as creating art together.
you'll see it eventually. it would be inconvenient to always leave my hair down to hide it from you. think of all of the nights you would spend drowning and drooling in it if i did. i'll show you, but first you need to promise you won't file for a restraining order.
not to give you more bad ideas, but you could also steal my cologne and then everything can smell like me.
i only wish i could have seen aleksander's expression when he walked in and saw his desk. missing that moment will live on as an eternal regret of mine.
is it my face? please say it's my face. i've been waiting my entire life for this moment, i think.
does it qualify as stealing if you're encouraging it? you're tricking me into the thrill of stealing from you.
if i had to guess, it was probably something like the expression on his face when we left together. shocked, but mostly predictably murderous. you should've planted cameras in his office to capture the moment for yourself. a nice memento to remember him by. we all make mistakes. nikolai lantsov is as embarrassingly human as the rest of us peasants after all.
sorry to disappoint you. be grateful it isn't; i'm sure you'll see this as an opportunity to claim no canvas can capture your beauty. you have two more guesses before i decide whether to take pity on you or not. has your adoring public really never gotten your face inked into them? they seem obsessive enough.
hard to say. will you forgive me for encouraging my bad habits to rub off on you?
that, too, was a moment. a good one for me, probably not so much for him. what an excellent idea. what a missed opportunity. next time, cameras. i won't make the same mistake twice.
how will we know if we don't try? i can send you some wonderful headshots that would make great tattoos. not to my knowledge. any fan mail gets filtered to a private address for screening. i'm told it's 50/50 adoration and hatred. i have gotten a few marriage proposals, though. my name? my brother's name to spite me?
it depends on the bad habit and how well you plead your case. i'll be your jury, judge, and potential executioner. so far, you've tempted me into vandalism, arson, and theft. what's next on the list?
you can be forgiven for your oversight. you were busy playing the part of my gallant rescuer. we'll have to revisit his desk the way tourists look at war memorials and hallowed grounds.
where do you keep these headshots of yours? stashed beneath the bed for you to pull out and kiss at night? i would've gotten your brother's name, but i didn't want to be a walking advertisement for vaseline products or a public service announcement for the importance of practicing birth control. surely you'll find a way to mend his heart.
[ a short pause is followed by a picture of the design, starkly black against the pale nape of her neck and messily tangled snow-white strands that have fallen to the wayside. ]
good? terrible? never talk to you again because it's as creepy as a marriage proposal from a stranger?
[ it takes him a few long moments to respond, typing and erasing and typing again before he gives up altogether and calls her instead, sprawling out on the living room couch and idly fiddling with the measuring tape he was attempting to use to size out a new shelf. ]
It's charming.
[ he breathes out a soft chuckle, smiling as he covers his eyes with one hand. suddenly he's an infatuated schoolboy, although there is some argument to be made that he never stopped being one. this feels fragile and new again, and he doesn't want to squander this chance. ]
The fox. The star. [ it feels right. a reminder. ] It's perfect. You're so thoughtful and it's... just perfect.
[ her relief is a soft exhale of breath — somehow ringing too loudly for her pounding head to tolerate. with a wince, she shifts, the quiet creak of the mattress protesting it. and to think, only a handful of hours ago, she had wanted nothing more than to sink under the sheets and never emerge to face her mortification.
it would be laughable, if it wasn't so terrifying to consider what can change, an entire future tipping on its head, in only a handful of pivotal seconds. ]
Knowing you've gotten marriage proposals makes me feel overshadowed.
[ the crackle of her voice is one that can only be blamed on the hellish slog of a hangover, but the warmth that bleeds from it is nearly a tangible thing, as though she can press it into his palm for safekeeping even from afar. ]
I would have shown you last night. [ her teeth worry her lip. it isn't a regret, so much as the uncertainty that had bubbled to the surface, so much as — ] But if you had told me you still didn't want to be with me after I had, I think I would have died from embarrassment.
Please. It's nothing short of embarrassing. They weren't good marriage proposals. The sort that arrives in the mail never are, and I hope to never receive any like that again.
[ the attention is flattering, in a way, only because of his expanded ego, but overall the entire prospect horrifies him. he looks at the little fox again, tracing the outline with one finger. ]
I'm sorry about last night, Alina. I was in an awful mood and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. [ his attempts to hide it with inane cheer seem absurd in the light of day. ] I feel so much better about us, but Zoya's still not really speaking to me. I don't suppose Mal has been in touch with her? Also — will he be vexed if I asked you to come stay with me instead? Since I am your loyal boyfriend and all. And I miss you, as I always do, so please take pity on me and say you'll come.
I tore down your shelf. If we make who behaved worse into a competition, we would have to call it a draw.
[ giving him that absolution doesn't feel like enough when it's stained with her own embarrassment, her own admission of wrongdoing, her own self-criticism. it distracts from the heart of her meaning, and the reminder she wants to wrap around it — i know what comes with loving you now, and i accept you as you are. ]
I don't expect you to be perfect. I'm not holding it against you, so don't hold it against yourself. [ selfishly, she finds some comfort in it — surefooted nikolai, as prone to stumbling as alina starkov. his flaws and insecurities on display for her to memorize, trace her fingers over to remember the shape of them when they appear next, to keep herself from mistaking his distance for cheery indifference. her voice softens, a reassurance. ] One obstacle at a time, Nik. I'll ask if he's heard anything from her whenever he gets back. I sent him out for food as punishment for snoring like a hibernating bear this morning.
[ her pause is stilted, considering, navigating past the nervousness that wants to bloom between her ribs. ]
How long would I be allowed to stay? I know guests who wear out their welcome usually have an expiration date.
[ her reassurance settles his heartbeat, even if it smarts every time he has to face his own imperfections. he should be better. he will be better, an eternal promise to himself that he keeps failing to fulfill but strives toward all the same. he can only hope to get a little closer each time.
he reminds himself that mal and alina frequently share a bed. it's a notion he's still wrapping his head around, a touch jealous but mostly perplexed at how different he and zoya are together. sharing a bed only comes with absolute catastrophe. he suddenly realizes that he will be jealous if zoya is speaking to mal while ignoring all of his messages. ]
Please do. Ask Mal, I mean. I'm both concerned and offended.
[ he reluctantly drops the topic, his mind shifting to alina's — frankly ludicrous — question. the hesitation behind her words is more than apparent. ] Are you looking for me to give you a specific date of expiration? There isn't one. It's whenever you get tired of looking at my handsome face.
No. [ yes. the little huff of frustrated air that crackles into the phone's speaker betrays her, unraveling a terribly spun lie. aware she's been snared by him, she doesn't bother trying to squirm her way out of it. ] How was I supposed you weren't just trying to be polite about it?
[ clingy, mal had called him, and alina had bristled — partially from offense on nikolai's behalf, and partially from disbelief, that ever-present fear of wanting more than she's wanted. it leaves her ill-prepared for his open-ended invitation, evidence of the steps she still needs to take — learning to trust, rather than allowing doubt and fear to paralyze her until she forgets to move at all. ]
So, never. I'll never get tired of looking at you. [ a twinge of anxiety slices through her chest. he isn't asking her to move in with him — but her toothbrush next to his and her art supplies scattered across his floor feels like it. maybe seizing that room in his life would bridge the distance between them, but it doesn't erase the memories of her clothes tucked into aleksander's closet and how quickly it had all fallen apart. ] I want to, but — you're not worried it's too soon for something like that?
You're always welcome here. I thought I made that clear already, but apparently not. Truthfully — my home feels empty without you in it.
[ he hadn't altogether planned on asking her to move in, and he's still not sure that's what this is now. but what he does know is that he'll worry every minute that she's not close. her home has none of the security that his does, although he doesn't point out this very practical fact. ]
I never get tired of looking at me, either. Maybe you'll get tired of looking at me looking at me. But regardless, I'll have a key made for you today.
[ there's much he hasn't considered until this moment — how alina will know how much time he spends not sleeping, or how frequently he skips his medication, or how much wine he and zoya manage to demolish during their nights of commiseration. none of that paints him in a particularly attractive light, and he's more worried that alina's opinion of him might change for the worse rather than this happening too soon. but — ]
Do you feel like it's too soon? [ dominik never fully moved in, at least not entirely by choice than out of necessity. he has no idea at what point alina felt comfortable moving in with aleksander, if at all. it's certainly possible they're making a mistake, but he doesn't think they are. ] Just stay with me a bit. If you like the feeling, then we'll move all your things in. If you don't, I promise that I'll still be just as happy to take over your bed at your place instead.
I don't like how you're always the reasonable one.
[ equipped with his practical mind, searching for solutions to any challenge he stumbles across. that, too, is a white lie from her mouth — hollow, nothing of substance at its center, if he were to investigate it. for as chaotic as the tangle of nikolai's thoughts can be, chasing after the ambitions and adventures that gleam in his peripheral, he's been a consistent, steadying presence. an anchor, when she begins to drift off and into herself.
but even as she loosens a laugh on her next breath, she recognizes nikolai's habit of sprinkling his insecurities like kernels for her to collect, hidden amongst the charm and easy wit. here and now, it's those crumbs of insisting she might tire of him, an uncanny reflection of her own fears. ]
Luckily for me, I have ways of making you look at me instead of whatever shiny surfaces you find. [ idly, she taps her fingers against the sheets, warring with her own tongue before she admits, ] I don't know if it's too soon, but I think ... it helps in showing us this isn't temporary. That you've made room for me in your life, and I've made room for you in mine. Having a physical reminder of that couldn't hurt, could it?
[ it could be a disaster, but — it could be good for them, a leap of progress she hadn't considered, if their testing phase goes smoothly. releasing her anxiety to the wind, she grasps for a deep, stabilizing breath. ]
So I'll agree to your experiment, but I have conditions. [ as though she hadn't been worried, two minutes earlier, of infringing and forcing her way into his life. though unseen, the smile seeps into her voice, a soft and basking warmth. ] You'll let me paint your walls, and you'll come to bed when I ask. I get cold without you there.
I don't remember the last time anyone called me reasonable. I must be losing my edge.
[ but he says it around a laugh, looking at his ruined shelf in amusement. the thought of waking up to alina every morning has him feeling excited again, a cautious acceptance that he hasn't bungled this beyond repair. instead they've somehow made even greater steps toward each other, defying his nagging expectation of disaster.
he's happy to make room for alina, and knows now that he should be open in showing it. rising from the couch, he wanders from room to room, imagining the ways in which they could change. he's always had a surplus of space, and many of the rooms go untouched for months at a time. zoya has claimed one of the downstairs bedrooms as her own for whenever she decides she needs a quiet place to be sour, and nikolai uses his expansive, wood-paneled study more than any other space in the house, his bedroom upstairs often going unused. ]
I'm afraid I don't have anything like your sunroom. I could possibly knock out some ceiling space and convert something into one, though. [ he pulls at the blinds in the kitchen window, letting the sun stream in. ] As for your conditions, the painting sounds more than agreeable, but how many requests for "five more minutes" am I allotted before coming to bed? I need at least three.
[ she can nearly hear him begin to draft the mental blueprints in his mind. three steps ahead of her, seized by a sudden burst of energy that's simultaneously charming to watch and exhausting to imagine for herself — the permanent turning of gears, a jumble of thoughts that refuse to neatly sort themselves. but maybe, if they had direction, an outlet to pour themselves for now —
redecorating his home isn't the worst invention he could preoccupy his time with, less worrisome and plaguing than toppling aleksander's slowly crumbling enterprise. an amused hum bubbles in her throat, spilling over. ]
You're just eager for a new project, puppy. [ no, not just. that excitement does remind her of droopy ears and a wagging tail, though — despite all of her poor manners — she knows better than to make the comparison aloud. ] You don't need to build me a sunroom or studio to make me want to stay.
[ — in case that's what this is. it's overwhelming, regardless — unfamiliar, to have someone so keen to offer her their home as her own. ]
We can negotiate. [ her nose scrunches, unoffended. it would sting, if they hadn't already soothed their hands over that wound. ] Two and a half times, and then I'm free to start dragging you to bed myself.
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no subject
it’s both incredibly frustrating and impressive.
you never have to worry that i won’t tell you the truth, either.
for example, i had a brief but satisfying fantasy of tossing you into the harbor when you started feeling sorry for yourself.
my new tattoo reminds me of you, and i was going to show it to you. it would have been a more romantic gesture than destroying your furniture.
most of all, i kept looking for you everywhere before i realized you were gone.
we’re both half-brained idiots, you know. pushing each other away because we’re afraid of losing each other, when we did just that for awhile. lost each other.
if i promise to tell you, will you promise me the same? tell me if you’re unhappy, or unsure?
i’m not perfect, either. you’ll learn that soon enough.
no subject
you know i'm an excellent swimmer and i happen to look exceptional while dripping wet.
i shouldn't have cut our conversation short. i admit i was running away.
it's always been easier for me to throw myself into another project rather than feel a loss for what it is.
yes. i promise to do the same.
will you still show it to me? your tattoo?
no subject
you would have looked very pretty while i held your head underwater.
so we’re both cowards with a habit of running away.
if you had looked more closely, you would have seen that i was still there.
and your shelf would have survived its fatal and gruesome injuries.
your coping methods might be better than mine.
i don’t know if i should.
i’m waiting until it’s too late for you to run away from me once you’ve seen it.
and, honestly, it’s going to make your ego even more insufferable.
no subject
would it be better if i blamed mal for the shelf instead?
it fits his brand.
we'll find new coping mechanisms. ones involving less destruction.
or at least less destruction of things we own.
that's fair on one count. my ego is perfect and takes no criticism.
when you feel comfortable enough to believe that i won't run off, then show it to me.
waiting for you is hardly an inconvenience, starlight.
no subject
well, i'll give it back, but only long enough for it to smell like you again.
i hear it's bad etiquette to give away the names of my accomplices.
i'll pay the time for my crime alone. you only need to tell me what my penance will be.
can we keep the destruction of desks on the list? that should count as creating art together.
you'll see it eventually. it would be inconvenient to always leave my hair down to hide it from you.
think of all of the nights you would spend drowning and drooling in it if i did.
i'll show you, but first you need to promise you won't file for a restraining order.
no subject
i only wish i could have seen aleksander's expression when he walked in and saw his desk.
missing that moment will live on as an eternal regret of mine.
is it my face? please say it's my face.
i've been waiting my entire life for this moment, i think.
no subject
you're tricking me into the thrill of stealing from you.
if i had to guess, it was probably something like the expression on his face when we left together. shocked, but mostly predictably murderous.
you should've planted cameras in his office to capture the moment for yourself. a nice memento to remember him by.
we all make mistakes. nikolai lantsov is as embarrassingly human as the rest of us peasants after all.
sorry to disappoint you. be grateful it isn't; i'm sure you'll see this as an opportunity to claim no canvas can capture your beauty.
you have two more guesses before i decide whether to take pity on you or not.
has your adoring public really never gotten your face inked into them? they seem obsessive enough.
no subject
will you forgive me for encouraging my bad habits to rub off on you?
that, too, was a moment. a good one for me, probably not so much for him.
what an excellent idea. what a missed opportunity.
next time, cameras. i won't make the same mistake twice.
how will we know if we don't try?
i can send you some wonderful headshots that would make great tattoos.
not to my knowledge. any fan mail gets filtered to a private address for screening.
i'm told it's 50/50 adoration and hatred. i have gotten a few marriage proposals, though.
my name? my brother's name to spite me?
no subject
i'll be your jury, judge, and potential executioner.
so far, you've tempted me into vandalism, arson, and theft. what's next on the list?
you can be forgiven for your oversight. you were busy playing the part of my gallant rescuer.
we'll have to revisit his desk the way tourists look at war memorials and hallowed grounds.
where do you keep these headshots of yours? stashed beneath the bed for you to pull out and kiss at night?
i would've gotten your brother's name, but i didn't want to be a walking advertisement for vaseline products
or a public service announcement for the importance of practicing birth control.
surely you'll find a way to mend his heart.
[ a short pause is followed by a picture of the design, starkly black against the pale nape of her neck and messily tangled snow-white strands that have fallen to the wayside. ]
good? terrible? never talk to you again because it's as creepy as a marriage proposal from a stranger?
no subject
It's charming.
[ he breathes out a soft chuckle, smiling as he covers his eyes with one hand. suddenly he's an infatuated schoolboy, although there is some argument to be made that he never stopped being one. this feels fragile and new again, and he doesn't want to squander this chance. ]
The fox. The star. [ it feels right. a reminder. ] It's perfect. You're so thoughtful and it's... just perfect.
no subject
it would be laughable, if it wasn't so terrifying to consider what can change, an entire future tipping on its head, in only a handful of pivotal seconds. ]
Knowing you've gotten marriage proposals makes me feel overshadowed.
[ the crackle of her voice is one that can only be blamed on the hellish slog of a hangover, but the warmth that bleeds from it is nearly a tangible thing, as though she can press it into his palm for safekeeping even from afar. ]
I would have shown you last night. [ her teeth worry her lip. it isn't a regret, so much as the uncertainty that had bubbled to the surface, so much as — ] But if you had told me you still didn't want to be with me after I had, I think I would have died from embarrassment.
no subject
[ the attention is flattering, in a way, only because of his expanded ego, but overall the entire prospect horrifies him. he looks at the little fox again, tracing the outline with one finger. ]
I'm sorry about last night, Alina. I was in an awful mood and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. [ his attempts to hide it with inane cheer seem absurd in the light of day. ] I feel so much better about us, but Zoya's still not really speaking to me. I don't suppose Mal has been in touch with her? Also — will he be vexed if I asked you to come stay with me instead? Since I am your loyal boyfriend and all. And I miss you, as I always do, so please take pity on me and say you'll come.
no subject
[ giving him that absolution doesn't feel like enough when it's stained with her own embarrassment, her own admission of wrongdoing, her own self-criticism. it distracts from the heart of her meaning, and the reminder she wants to wrap around it — i know what comes with loving you now, and i accept you as you are. ]
I don't expect you to be perfect. I'm not holding it against you, so don't hold it against yourself. [ selfishly, she finds some comfort in it — surefooted nikolai, as prone to stumbling as alina starkov. his flaws and insecurities on display for her to memorize, trace her fingers over to remember the shape of them when they appear next, to keep herself from mistaking his distance for cheery indifference. her voice softens, a reassurance. ] One obstacle at a time, Nik. I'll ask if he's heard anything from her whenever he gets back. I sent him out for food as punishment for snoring like a hibernating bear this morning.
[ her pause is stilted, considering, navigating past the nervousness that wants to bloom between her ribs. ]
How long would I be allowed to stay? I know guests who wear out their welcome usually have an expiration date.
no subject
[ her reassurance settles his heartbeat, even if it smarts every time he has to face his own imperfections. he should be better. he will be better, an eternal promise to himself that he keeps failing to fulfill but strives toward all the same. he can only hope to get a little closer each time.
he reminds himself that mal and alina frequently share a bed. it's a notion he's still wrapping his head around, a touch jealous but mostly perplexed at how different he and zoya are together. sharing a bed only comes with absolute catastrophe. he suddenly realizes that he will be jealous if zoya is speaking to mal while ignoring all of his messages. ]
Please do. Ask Mal, I mean. I'm both concerned and offended.
[ he reluctantly drops the topic, his mind shifting to alina's — frankly ludicrous — question. the hesitation behind her words is more than apparent. ] Are you looking for me to give you a specific date of expiration? There isn't one. It's whenever you get tired of looking at my handsome face.
no subject
[ clingy, mal had called him, and alina had bristled — partially from offense on nikolai's behalf, and partially from disbelief, that ever-present fear of wanting more than she's wanted. it leaves her ill-prepared for his open-ended invitation, evidence of the steps she still needs to take — learning to trust, rather than allowing doubt and fear to paralyze her until she forgets to move at all. ]
So, never. I'll never get tired of looking at you. [ a twinge of anxiety slices through her chest. he isn't asking her to move in with him — but her toothbrush next to his and her art supplies scattered across his floor feels like it. maybe seizing that room in his life would bridge the distance between them, but it doesn't erase the memories of her clothes tucked into aleksander's closet and how quickly it had all fallen apart. ] I want to, but — you're not worried it's too soon for something like that?
no subject
[ he hadn't altogether planned on asking her to move in, and he's still not sure that's what this is now. but what he does know is that he'll worry every minute that she's not close. her home has none of the security that his does, although he doesn't point out this very practical fact. ]
I never get tired of looking at me, either. Maybe you'll get tired of looking at me looking at me. But regardless, I'll have a key made for you today.
[ there's much he hasn't considered until this moment — how alina will know how much time he spends not sleeping, or how frequently he skips his medication, or how much wine he and zoya manage to demolish during their nights of commiseration. none of that paints him in a particularly attractive light, and he's more worried that alina's opinion of him might change for the worse rather than this happening too soon. but — ]
Do you feel like it's too soon? [ dominik never fully moved in, at least not entirely by choice than out of necessity. he has no idea at what point alina felt comfortable moving in with aleksander, if at all. it's certainly possible they're making a mistake, but he doesn't think they are. ] Just stay with me a bit. If you like the feeling, then we'll move all your things in. If you don't, I promise that I'll still be just as happy to take over your bed at your place instead.
no subject
[ equipped with his practical mind, searching for solutions to any challenge he stumbles across. that, too, is a white lie from her mouth — hollow, nothing of substance at its center, if he were to investigate it. for as chaotic as the tangle of nikolai's thoughts can be, chasing after the ambitions and adventures that gleam in his peripheral, he's been a consistent, steadying presence. an anchor, when she begins to drift off and into herself.
but even as she loosens a laugh on her next breath, she recognizes nikolai's habit of sprinkling his insecurities like kernels for her to collect, hidden amongst the charm and easy wit. here and now, it's those crumbs of insisting she might tire of him, an uncanny reflection of her own fears. ]
Luckily for me, I have ways of making you look at me instead of whatever shiny surfaces you find. [ idly, she taps her fingers against the sheets, warring with her own tongue before she admits, ] I don't know if it's too soon, but I think ... it helps in showing us this isn't temporary. That you've made room for me in your life, and I've made room for you in mine. Having a physical reminder of that couldn't hurt, could it?
[ it could be a disaster, but — it could be good for them, a leap of progress she hadn't considered, if their testing phase goes smoothly. releasing her anxiety to the wind, she grasps for a deep, stabilizing breath. ]
So I'll agree to your experiment, but I have conditions. [ as though she hadn't been worried, two minutes earlier, of infringing and forcing her way into his life. though unseen, the smile seeps into her voice, a soft and basking warmth. ] You'll let me paint your walls, and you'll come to bed when I ask. I get cold without you there.
no subject
[ but he says it around a laugh, looking at his ruined shelf in amusement. the thought of waking up to alina every morning has him feeling excited again, a cautious acceptance that he hasn't bungled this beyond repair. instead they've somehow made even greater steps toward each other, defying his nagging expectation of disaster.
he's happy to make room for alina, and knows now that he should be open in showing it. rising from the couch, he wanders from room to room, imagining the ways in which they could change. he's always had a surplus of space, and many of the rooms go untouched for months at a time. zoya has claimed one of the downstairs bedrooms as her own for whenever she decides she needs a quiet place to be sour, and nikolai uses his expansive, wood-paneled study more than any other space in the house, his bedroom upstairs often going unused. ]
I'm afraid I don't have anything like your sunroom. I could possibly knock out some ceiling space and convert something into one, though. [ he pulls at the blinds in the kitchen window, letting the sun stream in. ] As for your conditions, the painting sounds more than agreeable, but how many requests for "five more minutes" am I allotted before coming to bed? I need at least three.
no subject
redecorating his home isn't the worst invention he could preoccupy his time with, less worrisome and plaguing than toppling aleksander's slowly crumbling enterprise. an amused hum bubbles in her throat, spilling over. ]
You're just eager for a new project, puppy. [ no, not just. that excitement does remind her of droopy ears and a wagging tail, though — despite all of her poor manners — she knows better than to make the comparison aloud. ] You don't need to build me a sunroom or studio to make me want to stay.
[ — in case that's what this is. it's overwhelming, regardless — unfamiliar, to have someone so keen to offer her their home as her own. ]
We can negotiate. [ her nose scrunches, unoffended. it would sting, if they hadn't already soothed their hands over that wound. ] Two and a half times, and then I'm free to start dragging you to bed myself.