Katerina sits heavily onto the made futon after Ivan invites her. With a sigh she stares up at him, feeling that tingling sensation that prickles around her stomach that's reserved for when a state of numbness begins to leave her. She’d felt it before when her D’mitri had stopped her at her buttons and given her the money, and again when he finally agreed to marry her. Katerina is ‘delicate’ in the case of her moods—meaning they’ll swing wide and full at the drop of hat. Unless she doesn’t know how to react, which is the case here in this house and this time. But at her Striking Ivan’s question, she has no problem responding.
“Everything!” She knows to keep her voice down, but if anyone were in the room she’d just left, they most assuredly would have her moan. “Oh Everything, Ivan, everything. How could anything not be wrong?” Her hands flop onto the sides of her skirts. She’s not wearing the purple top layer of her dress, simply all the pale yellow and white that’s underneath. Nearly risqué! For a woman to be in a man’s room this way, but she’d stood in front of D’mitri in less, and why, it’s Ivan! Her Striking Ivan with his dignity and social graces. The situation is far from scandalous in her mind. Besides far more upsetting and pressing matters are at everyone’s hands. Looking up at him, she can feel her eyes welling, but it’s just those frustrated tears, the kind that you never have enough of to actually cry.
“Oh, you know I’m not opposed to go places and meeting people, but!” Her shoulders fall as she shakes her, the smile on her face not happy at all. “We aren’t supposed to be meeting these people. Oh, you know I think they’ve been kind, our hosts, you must know that, Ivan. Oh but of course you do. You know me so well, don’t you Ivan.” Katerina shakes her head as she drops it, her hair falling over. It’s not supposed to be like this. The future. Two-thousand-ten. The thought alone is enough to make her weak kneed. So many things have been invented, there’s been two world wars. The world has grown to be about things Katerina never cared about, never heard anyone ever caring about. “But, really, Ivan.” She lifts her head, tucking the large curls that fell forward behind her ears. “We were not supposed to be seeing any of this.” Wirth a pleading look, “How could anything be arlight?”
It’s rhetorical, but if anyone had an answer it’d be Ivan. Her Striking Ivan always knows what to say. Like always, however, she doesn’t leave him any room to answer. Gesturing to the desk with paper and futuristic pens scattered over it, she gives up on her line questioning in favor of a new one. “What are you doing to pass the time?” Back to his bright eyes, “Did I interrupt you?”