ArchivedLogs:Borscht!

Borscht!
Dramatis Personae Ivan, Peter, Dorofei	2013-06-10 '
Location <XS> Medical Lab - B1
Gleaming and sterile, the school's medical facility is all cool science in contrast to the mansion's old-world old-fashion. All stainless steel and antiseptic tinge, the room is filled with the quiet whir-click of the various implements that comprise its medical equipment -- all state-of the art. The hospital beds are curtained off for privacy when they have patients, and in one of the alcoves there is a small operating theatre visible. More heavy-duty equipment is visible in the lab in the back, where the securely locked cabinets keep sensitive equipment out of the reach of teenage fingers. Upon hearing that Ivan returned, Peter was -- well, very /difficult/ to keep down. He's been told! Several times over! That Ivan needs his /rest/. But Peter knows that this is a lie. What Ivan really needs is a Peter. And, of course, DANGER SHADES. Both of which Peter is in the process of bringing him. Peter is clad in a blue collared button up shirt; dark dress slacks -- two toed socks -- and his funny thwippy wrist things. He's also got on his redonkulus hipster glasses and, carried in his pocket, DANGER SHADES. He is currently in the process of sneeeeaking into the Med-Lab (with permission! Though not to visit Ivan) and proceeding to, creep creep creep up the walls -- up to the ceiling -- and creeeeeeep -- toward Ivan's bed. Over it. Creep, creep. Ivan's bed is still curtained off. Curiously quiet, considering the fact that he is not asleep, but also not even /alone/. He stands at the side of his assigned bed, in white socks and jeans, in the middle of pulling a dull yellow-coloured T-shirt over his head, past bare skin and shark-bitey scars on his side and shoulder. He is /not/ a fan of gowns, and he doesn't look /hurt/ anyway. He's also changing a little /slowly/ as though to make the least possible amount of noise. This may very well be because next to the bed, on a chair that looks entirely too small for the man, is a Dorofei. Arms crossed over his chest, head back against a wall, mouth open. Eyes closed. Fast asleep. And snoring, every few breaths. Ivan occasionally looks at the man almost as though he's afraid his father might /choke on his tongue/ in the midst of one of these snores. Until-- he catches something out of the corner of his eye. And looks up- eyebrows rising, mouth immediately pulling into a bright smile. REACH. Arms UP, fingers splayed far as they'll go. REQUESTING ONE PETER, PLEASE PETER REQUEST RECEIVED. Acquiring authorization -- AUTHORIZATION ACQUIRED. Deploying in 3, 2... Thwump. Peter is /down/, on the floor, arms immediately swinging up to wrap around Ivan -- shirt or no shirt! -- and pluck him up into an immediate, lift-you-off-the-ground hug. Said hug is not /too/ tight though because Peter has no idea what Ivan's injuries might be. He is also -- careful, because he sees Dorofei sleeping and does not wish to startle. "/Ivan/," Peter says, voice hushed but frantic. "Ivan Ivan Ivan -- you're /okay/. Ohmy/God/ Ivan I almost ran off to the city to -- Jackson said he'd find you. You're okay, right? You look okay." Nodnodnodnod. Nod! Many nods after an initial quiet but not displeased 'hhk' at the hug, Ivan's arms lifting to /wrap around/. Possibly more tightly. Because for all that anyone can see, he has absolutely zero injuries. "I do not-" He starts, similarly hushed and with a cursory glance to his father, "-remember. Very well." Quickly, he follows that up with, "You stayed safe. This is /important/." Ooh, DANGER SHADES. Ivan's arms detach from the hug and his hands go instinctively up to his face, fingers approvingly pressed against the Danger Shades' sides. His smile fades then, however, melting away under concern that so easily takes over with a frown and eyebrows lowering. "Going nuts-- going nuts how?" He may be familiar with the expression, but that still leaves the question of to what /degree/ this nuttiness is occurring. His confusion also prompts him to forget to be quiet for a moment. Hhhkhgh? Dorofei stirs with a gurgle of a snore that's interrupted halfway by waking. His eyes open for him to blearily look around, but focus on Peter almost instantly afterward. "Peter Parker," He doesn't much move, muscular arms still folded of his chest, head tilting upward slightly to /observe/ the other teenager before he looks to Ivan with his eyebrows lowering as far as they'll go, "{Has- he been here long? I think I fell asleep. What- why are you... what are those?}" "{No, dad,}" Ivan answers in return, without actually /looking/ at his father, " "{He just got here. And these are} /Danger Shades/." He looks /very sure/ of this. His father less so, squinting furiously. "Just, nuts. Stay out of the city," Peter tells Ivan. "Police are -- they're beating mutants up. And stuff. S'gonna be a rough week. Shane and Sebastian," Peter adds, /rubbing/ at one side of his face, "are staying there I really wish they'd just come /here/ and stay low for the summer, but..." At the sound of waking Dorofei, Peter briefly freezes, tensing up; he offers the man a tentative smile, glancing over his shoulder. The bits of Russian he catches, he soon assembles into -- a /basic/ narrative. "Danger Shades," Peter agrees, before asserting rather firmly: "For staying /out/ of danger. Um." He turns back to Ivan, brows rumpled. "...man I don't want you to go back to Russia, I mean I'm gonna, miss you /crazy-hard/, but. But I'm. I'm kinda /glad/, because. Things are probably just gonna get nuts around here. I'm staying at the school, so don't worry." "{You look ridiculous.}" Is Dorofei's input, though it's fairly subdued as he recomposes himself. Smackin' his lips, dry from his mouth having been open, and leaning forward for a streetch of his back and arms. Ivan ignores the comment, instead confusing on Peter again. "If it is dangerous... why are Shane and Sebastian there? They were hurt before, and you--" Hnnh. Frustration, but /tired/ frustration. He may not be injured but his words do not come to him /easily/. Especially the English ones. "You /will/ be here. Because if you are not then I will /stay/, to make sure you--" "{You're going.}" Dorofei interrupts, his voice much louder this time, with a stern look toward his son that suggests he's decided there is very little room for negotiation. Ivan responds /immediately/, his voice louder than usual and his stern look back somewhat mitigated by the shades. Or perhaps ENHANCED? "{Of course I'm going, dad. I was talking about hypothetical situations, you just don't understand English well enough to--}" Dorofei interrupts again, this time much more abruptly, /tensely/, "{Watch it.}" Cue a wordless father son staring contest. Peter picks up on the edge of tension between father and son; he bristles, just a /bit/, before adding -- ever so carefully: "It's okay. I'm -- {staying. Safe. Here.}" He shifts, turning to Ivan, wearing a concerned frown: "I don't know they -- I think they figure, they can handle it. But, just. /Crap/, Ivan," Peter says, and now it's back to rub-rub-rubbing at one side of his face. "It's driving me nuts just worrying about them," Peter says, "but, it'll be okay. They're tough. If it gets really bad they can just go -- into the ocean for a while. Or come back here." Then: "I'm not gonna do anything dumb Ivan, just. /You/ be safe, too, okay? There might be giant bugs in Russia I don't know." This thought makes Peter's nose wrinkle. Are there giant bugs in Russia? Maybe. He hopes not. /Maybe/ he should ask Dorofei. Ivan is keeping his /ridiculous/ Danger Shades ON, even as he looks back to Peter with his expression of concern half obscured (his father may or may not be counting this as a /win/ re: staring contest). His son continues, "They should come here. I do not... I do not know them /very/ well but I think they are safer here." "Nyuh-uh, no /big bug/ in Russia." Dorofei answers, a smirk now pulling at his lips. "Ivan make them go, go /go/." He stands, finally, stretching his arms forward once more before reaching for Ivan and /ruffling his hair/, leaving messy curls messier still. But causing no spiders to flee from his head. Maybe there are none. Ivan lifts an hand to push a palm at his father's forearm, but it does not relent. /Parents/. Said parent looks to Peter, then. "{How long have you been learning Russian?}" His tone is one that somehow suggests all on its own that if the answer to to this is a lie, there may be /consequences/. "Yeah," Peter agrees with Ivan, but. "Yeah I don't know I think they just -- maybe they just don't want to -- run. Hide," Peter adds, a little more quietly. "I don't know. But -- we can keep them safe. We'll figure something out." And then there's an IVANDAD arm descending to ruffle hair, and Peter's eyes -- widen! -- as he steps back to make room, trying not to grin. At the question that targets him, though, Peter immediately straightens -- an arm still at Ivan's back as he steps aside -- snapping a bit rigid, like he's just been called upon by a commanding officer. "I, uh... erm. A semester? {Few months,}" Peter reclarifies, turning -- a hint of violet. "{Ivan help. Er. Ivan helping. Er. Ivan /is/ helping.}" There we are. He thinks? He thinks. Push PUSH. Ivan's still pushing at his father's arm. The person at the end of that arm appears /not to care/, his palm flat on his son's head and /staying/ there even as Ivan starts to try and squirm away. This is not the first time this has happened, and both of them seem overly familiar with the process. "{You look /weird/. Doesn't he look weird, Vano?}" He looks to the side for a moment, gets no response from his son but more squirming, then /squints/ at Peter again. Speaking slightly slower. "{I want to apologise. Before we go. And also say thank you.}" The man's face is not one of /kindness/, especially not when his smirk suddenly disappears. It's sort of cold, actually, calculating. Until suddenly, there is a /thud/ of Ivan stumbling to the side as he is let go of, because apparently now is Dorofei's turn smile brightly and to-- hug-- Peter? Yep. That's a thing that's apparently going to happen now, and he's wasting no time in trying to scoop the boy up into a brief but TIGHT one armed hug. Peter blinks; first, at the weird comment (which prompts his violet going to indigo), then, at the apology. And then the /thank/ you. And then -- OHGOD. Peter /squeaks/ as Dorofei drops down to sweep him up in that one-armed hug; he reciporcates as best as he can (with both arms) but is clearly out of his element, here. Eyes a bit wide! Smiling, albeit nervously. "I -- um -- you're... {You are welcome?}" Yes, that seems to be the right response. Peter throws an apprehensive look at Ivan, as if to ask, 'WHAT IS HAPPENING?'. "But... {why thank?}" The APOLOGY, Peter gets. Probably for the shaking. There's little help from Ivan, whose Danger Shades are a little lopsided after he manages to steady himself. Looking a bit /helpless/ and perhaps just as apprehensive. "{For taking care of my boy!}" Dorofei's answer comes easily as he lets go again, his smile still lingering, even if he looks a little confused as to why this question was even asked. "{He has trouble making friends-- he finds it /difficult/, so me and Lyuba, his mother, we were very glad to hear he had made a good friend like you, to help him. You will come /visit/ some time.}" It has been DECIDED. His arms cross over his chest again. Ivan, meanwhile, stands. Stares at Peter, his face fairly neutral though his face is turning a pinch redder. Maybe because he's trying to see how much Peter understood of the little speech, or maybe because he's doing the things that teenagers are wont to do- ignoring the very existence of his father. "Oh -- /oh/," Peter says, suddenly -- grinning. As if in realization! "Oh, that's -- {yes I understanding. Is. Friend good!}" Then, a CLAP on the back of Ivan's shoulder. Not hard enough to send the Danger Shades skidding to the floor, Peter hopes! At the mention of visiting, Peter pauses -- scrunches his nose a moment, trying to ferret out the meaning -- and then, grins again. "{I would. Visiting! Fun.}" Peter looks to Ivan, then, before hesitantly adding: "...did I say that right? I'd totally love to see Russia sometime. Um. Maybe not /this/ time but. Wait /would/ that be okay?" Peter adds, as if. Trying to figure it out. If Russia would try and KILL HIM or something. Peter doesn't know much about non-US countries. "You said it well. Your Russian is getting better." Ivan notes this /slightly/ stiffly, fixing the shades back onto his face properly. This is very important from the looks of it. Dorofei just /laughs/, especially at the CLAP on his son's shoulders. Approved! "You come! For-- nnheh...?" He looks to his son. "{Vacation in the winter, do you have that?}" His son is quick to respond, though his shaded eyes stay on Peter, his hands now moving to fidget with the hem of his shirt. "Winter break? I will show you- all of the builings and the shops and the /snow/. Peter. Peter so much snow." He /perks up/ a little, eyebrows lifting over his lenses. It is possible he may have missed said snow. Russian snow is SPECIAL, clearly. "Winter b--yes," Peter says, suddenly quite /firmly/. "That would be -- oh, man. We could have. Awesome. /Russian/ adventures," Peter says, quite insistently. "It would be like -- that Die Hard movie? The new one. That's us. Except, y'know, neither of us are um that Bruce Willis guy also I think I heard the movie was terrible but basically it would be DANGER BROS in RUSSIA--" Okay, Peter. Time to breathe. He pauses, grinning widely. "I would love to go to Russia in the winter. We could eat -- BORSCHT! Ivan, we could have BORSCHT! I don't even know what borscht is," Peter admits, "but we could /eat/ it!" Clearly, this is a /deeply/ exciting idea for Peter. All this excitement draws another laugh out from Dorofei, brief but warm. But the next thing he does is reach for Peter again, to try and slip an arm behind his shoulders. To start to push him firmly but slowly toward where two curtains meet. "{He's a good boy, Vano. He cares. Little nervous. Little jumpy. Little /weird/ looking-- we'll probably have to get him a /hat/ for winter.}" Because a hat will solve /that/ problem, clearly. Ivan chooses not to respond to his father, instead lifting his hands as if to try and /stop/ his father from guiding Peter away- before realising he probably wouldn't be able to, anyway. Slumping a little tiredly. "We will have /all/ of the snow and then we can have /all/ of the borscht. My sister will make it--" Then, somewhat more carefully and after a glance at his father, "I will speak with you later. In our room. We are leaving Wednesday." "Ooh," Peter responds, /guided/ by Ivandad with -- relative ease. At the mention of a hat -- one of the few words Peter picked out of Dorofei's sentences -- Peter brightens. Oh, /hat/. He likes -- hats. "Okay," Peter chirps to Ivan, almost -- manic-cheerfully, before the last bit of what he said sinks in. "...oh. /Okay/," he adds, a little more reluctant, but -- with a big smile! "I'll want to see you -- off," Peter adds, as he is urged toward the exit! "...talk to you later." Already thinking about. RUSSIAN HAT. "Thank you. For coming to see me." Ivan calls past his father, smiling timidly. But happily. He really is very glad. Once Peter is led out, Dorofei turns around and faces his son to wave his hands at him. Back back back to bed. Dressed or not. "{I don't look ridiculous.}" Ivan mutters, climbing back onto bed to sit in the middle of it just in time for the shades to be snatched up from his face. Dorofei places them on his own face, and sits down in the chair again, head leaning back. At least now no one will be able to tell he's drifted off. Save for the-- open mouth. "{Of course not, Vanyushka. You know I tease. You looked very intimidating.}"