Illya (redperilatdawn) wrote in wtnvic, @ 2019-12-07 20:09:00 |
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Illya was not entirely sure what had possessed him to offer adhoc Russian lessons to Faith on the network, but apparently being plucked out of his own reality and dumped into an entirely different one had a strange effect on his Russian constitution. Besides, it would be good for him to keep busy, take his mind off the fact that all of this had just happened and that Gaby was nowhere to be found. Solo was not wrong in his assessment that wherever she was, she would be okay because she was a strong highly capable person but that did not mean Illya ceased worrying about her.
Also, sustenance was important, so if anything he was killing two birds with one stone by securing a booth in a nearby diner and also getting to know somebody new. Not that he did that a lot if ever. He had never really been the type to have many friends or even acquaintances, far too focused on being a KGB agent and doing his country proud and also he was by all intents and purposes absolutely terrifying.
He also felt as though he stuck out like a sore thumb given that he was clearly from a different era from those around him but he wasn't uncomfortable because he was assured and confident in himself as a person and a few odd looks were not sufficient to unsettle that.
Still, he claimed the booth and ordered a drink.
The idea of learning Russian had started out as a joke, but in all honesty? It wasn't as though Faith had much else to do around here. She'd done her own poking around and had yet to find a way back, and since she knew Giles and Wes were around she was content to let them handle the whole research thing while she and Buffy took care of any trouble that stirred. Of course, that didn't mean that she couldn't have a little fun while she was at it - especially since she wasn't actively dealing with any kind of supernatural threat.
Stepping into the diner, her gaze scanned the room in what might've been considered a casual manner to those who didn't know her. In reality, she was checking to make sure there weren't any demons snacking on customers or vampires giving off a Slayer-tingle kind of feel before she stepped in further. As for humans, they didn't really worry her too much. When her eyes landed on Illya, she took a moment to study him and found herself wishing he was standing so she could get the full package so to speak, but since he was sitting she made her way over.
"Hey, hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," Faith said as she slid gracefully into the other side of the booth, then proceeded to sit all the way against the wall so she had a good view of the place. "Did you order yet?"
Illya lifted his blue gaze to regard the brunette that had just joined him, noticing the way she sat as if she was used to watching her surroundings and needed to have a good view of everything. He could understand. He did something similar but it began when he entered and didn’t end until he was safely away.
“Just a drink,” he murmured, Russian accent thick and impossible to miss. It was very out of place in their present surroundings.
Actually now he thought about it they needed menus as their table was without. Illya rested his hands against the table then rose to his fairly impressive height. “I will be right back.” He slipped out of the booth and made his way towards the counter where he caught the attention of a waitress.
It didn’t take very long, thankfully, and Illya returned with two menus.
Faith would’ve stopped him and just waved over a server herself, but he got up so fast and she was a tad bit distracted by that impossibly high giant height of his that she just gave a nod instead. “Take your time,” she murmured once he’d walked away because she was going to take hers and enjoy the view for as long as she could.
When he returned, she took the offered menu and gave it a cursory glance. Most of these places were the same when it came to what they offered - but given how far he was from home, she wasn’t sure he’d know that. Faith spotted an ashtray on the table behind them, and wasted no time in stretching herself over the booth to snag it, then settled back on her side and set it on the table as she pulled a pack of slightly crushed cigarettes out of one pocket and held it up.
“You mind?”
Given that prior to his arrival in this strange place Illya had lived in a society where smoking indoors was perfectly the norm he didn’t care if Faith struck up one while in his presence.
“No, not at all,” he assured her before he looked through the menu and it was all food he might expect from the America that Solo had described though the use of a cellular device not attached to a wire was a relatively new one.
The Russian rested the menu down on the table and glanced up at Faith.
“How long have you been in this place?”
She flashed a smile and shook out a cigarette. By the time he finished glancing over the menu, Faith had it lit and was sitting back casually, one leg stretched out on the booth beside her and an elbow on the table.
“A week, give or take - I haven’t really bothered with keeping track,” she replied as she studied him in return. “It’s a weird place, but not that bad. This your first time in America?” Faith could make small talk and be incredibly charming when she wanted, and she actually did like talking to interesting people when she had the chance.
“Yes,” he affirmed. “I have travelled a lot but this is my first time in America.” He had mostly been in and around Europe, the last being Italy. They had been given another mission, one in Istanbul, but they’d never got there. Or at the very least he and Solo had
not. Hopefully Gabby was fine wherever she was.
He really needed to track the American down and see how long he had been in this place.
“I take it that you like me do not belong here.”
“Not so much, no. Before I showed up here, I was across the pond, in jolly old England,” Faith said as she dropped seamlessly into a British accent. Her training with Giles had been awesome and she’d been able to pass off being an upper class British lady well enough to fool Gigi for a bit, but she offered a grin as she slipped back into her regular Southie tones.
“I’m from Boston originally, though. In Massachusetts. Spent a few years in Cali, but otherwise I’ve been on the road for a while. Like I said before, I never finished school so I didn’t exactly learn any foreign languages.” After another inhale on the cigarette, Faith offered him the pack in case he wanted one for himself.
Illya considered the pack for a moment before he reached across and caught the filter of a cigarette to tug it out and slip it between his lips. An eyebrow lifted as he leaned across the table ever so slightly indicative that he needed a light.
“What is that you want to learn?” He asked, reclining back as he took a slow inhale, holding onto the smoke for a moment before it escaped him in a breath out, tipped up and away so it didn’t hit Faith in the face.
Light eyes found her darker ones. “Conversational or language?”
Picking up her lighter, Faith flicked it on and leaned over a bit to light the cigarette for him. Once that was done, she slipped the lighter into the pack and idly pushed a few stray strands of hair out of her face.
“Conversational, I guess. I doubt I’ll be actually going to Russia anytime in the future, but I don’t really see a reason not to learn something,” she replied, which to her meant that she might as well pick it up. These days Faith wasn’t as against learning as she had been as a kid.
Absently, the Slayer wondered if that meant she was mellowing or something - then immediately decided that it didn’t. She just wasn’t as much of a bitch anymore.
“What’re you up for teaching?” A slight smirk accompanied the words, implying that if he wanted to go beyond language, she wouldn’t exactly turn him down.
Illya tipped his head ever so slightly as he processed what exactly she was suggesting, hinting even, or more accurately using a sledgehammer to get across. Well, that would be the first time he’d been propositioned in such a way. Napoleon Solo was more people’s type that much was evident by their missions and daily interactions, the surly Russian was nobody’s type or if he was most people were too afraid to be so bold as to go right for it.
That much was evident in the microexpression that crossed his face before he had a chance to catch it.
“We should probably stick to the Russian,” Illya said after a moment. He was sure that Solo had slept his way through most of Nightvale as that seemed to be his modus operandi but… “And maybe when it is clear you have learned that we can move onto other things.”
Vague enough that it could literally be anything.
Flashing an easy grin his way, Faith acknowledged the decline to her offer with a nod as she tapped some ash into the tray between them, but before she could answer the waitress finally came over to them. She ordered a milkshake, burger, and a basket of fries without ever glancing the menu’s way, then waited for Illya to order his own food before picking up the thread of their conversation again.
“You’re a fighter, right? I can tell.” A few of the things he’d said, the way he moved - it gave him away to someone like Faith. “Wouldn’t mind going up against you some time with fists if you’re up for it.” If he wasn’t up to tangling in she sheets, Faith had no problem with tangling in the streets and she was always up for learning a few new moves.
Once, she’d thought that fancy weapons were needed to be the Slayer, but now? She was well aware that all she needed was her head and her fists and she could take just about anything. “My friend B might wanna spar, too,” she added, to show that she was at least more serious about the fighting.
She wasn’t wrong. Illya was a fighter. Had been from a young age and had naturally progressed into the armed forces and then the KGB. The Russians knew a thing or two about training their forces and Illya was by all accounts a highly efficient highly capable agent who had on more than one occasion ripped the back of cars off.
Fighting sounded like a good alternative to boredom and it wouldn’t hurt to let off some steam as he was more suited to that than anything else.
“I think that is a good idea,” he affirmed as he knocked ash to one side. “We can start that as soon as you want.” The sooner the better, there was something about physical pain that made him feel more… alive. It was twisted and he was aware that it was twisted but that was just how he was built.
“After we eat, then,” the Boston native decided on the fly. Another drag from the cigarette was taken before she blew the smoke to one side and studied him curiously. “Mind if I ask how long you’ve been fighting?” Faith didn’t really want to be spoiled for too much of his style since this would be a mostly friendly match, she figured, but it couldn’t hurt to make a little conversation while they waited for their food.
Plus, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t like the sound of his voice, accent and all. Illya was obviously the quiet type, which meant that she was going to get him to talk while he let her, or until he started teaching her Russian.
Illya’s gaze didn’t waver even as Faith observed him curiously, eyes remained transfixed on her and his expression was schooled into a neutral expression. “My father, he, well, he believed that his son should know how to look after himself so I began young.” That wasn’t all there was to it but there were some things you kept close to your chest. “And then I naturally joined the armed forces after school and eventually other agencies so…”
He exhaled as he reached over and stabbed the cigarette out in the nearby ashtray.
“Most of my life.”
“I’m of the firm belief that everyone should know how to look after themself,” she commented, then frowned and tilted her head slightly. “Themselves? Whichever is the right one. Anyway, I get it.” Maybe she’d never been in the military, but she’d co-led an army of Slayers which had to count for something, right? Save the world a few times and you were up there.
Tapping her own smoke out, Faith nodded her thanks as her drink was set down and picked it up for a long sip while wishing it had a little alcohol in it. Despite that, her gaze flickered back to Illya.
“You like it? The armed forces, those agencies. That whole package.”
“It is…” Illya trailed off. “Good to have order and discipline in my life. Also, it is considered a high honour to serve our country where I come from.” Especially when you came from the family he did and there was much to redeem and recover from. “And it means I get to travel.”
For free, around the world, what was the occasional mission here and there?
“But I believe we were talking about you,” he said, re-routing the conversation back to Faith, “and how you wish to learn Russian.” He levelled his serious blue gaze on Faith not a trace of amusement on his face. “Your lesson begins now.”