singillatim | Я вернулся в деревню

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Я вернулся в деревню

Who: Svetlana and Open + a prompt for Fraser
What: Venturing forth and also dealing with April shenanigans!
When: April catch-all!
Where: Milton, then the path up to and including Lakeside. See prompts in post!

Content Warnings: Nothing as of yet; will update!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"What do you have that's familiar?" she wonders, pausing with her hands on her backpack.

Billy Gibson. Others from the crew. The crushing horror and fear that you'll wake up one morning and there won't be any food left.

"I arrived here from a situation much like this one back home—though at least here, we've got a roof over our heads and a more steady supply of food."

"Oh." She doesn't like the way that sounds and she pauses. "I'm sorry. I - that sounds terrible."

"It is what it is," Hickey shrugs. "Yeah, it was terrible. But I'm not there anymore. And really, that matters most."

Not being trapped in the fucking Arctic on that fucking ship. At least Milton has some game. At least there's actual food here.

"No, you're here. And there is some adventure here."

She grins, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I thought I'd make coffee before I leave. Would you like some?"

"As long as you're offering, I'll happily accept," he says, with a nod and a smile. "Lead the way, Nazarova."

She places a pot of water on the fire and winds her way into the kitchen, taking down two cups and clearing them of dust.

"Tell me something about yourself," she comments light.

I'm a sodomite. I killed and ate the man who might as well be my husband. I kidnapped a woman. I started a mutiny.

"I'm a sailor," Hickey shrugs. "Part of an expedition to go to the Arctic. Things went...poorly."

"You mentioned something of the sort," she frowns. "What about home? What is your home like?"

"Doesn't matter," he says, with a shrug. "I left it for a reason, after all. Nobody goes on an expedition to the Arctic if things are fine."

It's an unspoken yet emphatic 'stop asking questions.'

Sveta doesn't read into that tone as well, but she frowns. "You didn't want to go?" she wonders, turning away from him to pick up the pot and pour the water into two cups to mix with the coffee.

"I did want to go," he points out. One year in the Arctic and then he'd go to Maui. Sort of. He hoped.

"I wanted to get the hell out of London for a bit. The expedition served that purpose."

"Somewhere new," she says with a nod. "I thought about the same thing once. Getting out of Moscow and going - somewhere else. Anywhere."

She places the cup of coffee in front of him.

He takes the cup of coffee in his hands, warming them up as he asks,

"Did you? Did you get out?"

Hickey's kind of hoping the answer is 'yes.'

She would have, but the Night Watch found her first.

And now she can't actually leave.

"No," she mutters. "Well, I suppose I am here. Would this count?"

"Dunno," Hickey answers, with a little shrug. There's a moment before he points out, "I'd count it for me. But you're the only one who can decide if you view this place as an opportunity or a shackle."

She tilts her head, handing him the cup. "I suppose that also depends on what you're coming from. If you don't miss it."

"And I don't," Hickey says, without any hesitation. Taking the cup, he takes a little sip of the coffee before, "It's good."

"Is it?"

She smiles, raising up on her toes a little as she watches. "I've never liked it, but I've been rationing it very carefully."

Hickey, a man used to starvation and survival situations, approves the rationing. That being said,

"Y'know, if you don't like the coffee, there's a bloke who runs a general store who's always up for trading. Louis du Pointe du Lac." There was nothing French in the way he said Louis's name.

"Bloke's a prick, but he's a good businessman."

She blushes a little at the swear and then nods. "A general store. Out here. Is it - is he trading?" she wonders.

Become friends with Hickey and you'll hear way worse swears than 'prick.' But Hickey nods before continuing,

"He found some cigarettes. I traded some pelts and wood for them. It's a fair bargain, which says a lot about the man considering our personal grievances."

Louis sucks, but he doesn't let that get in the way of business.

Pelts and wood.

She glances out the window. There really isn't much that she has in the way of trading. Sveta doesn't have the survival skills for anything out here like hunting or trapping. She's a city girl!

"Well, I will keep that in mind," she mutters, sipping at her coffee.

Hickey's not an idiot. He can pick up on Sveta's hesitation, on the fact that she seems very out of place here. He takes a sip of his coffee, thinking things over, before deciding,

"If you run out of food or wood? Stop by mine. I'll make sure you're fed."

The more people he can sway to his side, the better.

She seems more than a little relieved by that. "Truly? Thank you." It's one less thing to worry about.

"I can - well, if you ever need medical help, I will give you anything I can."

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