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Post by Megan on Jan 15, 2012 9:56:00 GMT -5
"You brought me as a status symbol, didn't you?" Megan grumbled, trailing behind Adrian in a hotel hallway in Moscow.
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Jan 17, 2012 19:28:57 GMT -5
"Explain to me how you convey status," Adrian retorted, voice terse and rough from exhaustion.
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Post by Megan on Jan 17, 2012 19:31:43 GMT -5
They had just concluded a five-hour meeting involving the question of whether or not Adrian's capitalist dollars would be allowed to help fund a program teaching young people to act as diplomats between the newly allianced US and USSR. During all of this, Megan sat as silent as a churchmouse, concealing the fact that her "notes" were sketches, and in fact she couldn't follow what was being discussed at all thanks to the business being conducted in Russian.
"I don't speak Russian, sir," Megan said hotly. "There was no point in my being th- there was no point in your bringing me on this whole damned trip, if we're honest-"
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Jan 17, 2012 19:33:41 GMT -5
Adrian's hand produced a soft mechanical whine as he turned the key in the lock. As soon as the door was open, he gestured for Megan to step in before him.
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Post by Megan on Jan 17, 2012 20:41:35 GMT -5
Megan slunk past without looking at him.
They had been provided a double suite consisting of two bedrooms and two baths forming wings off of a common sitting area and kitchen. Megan had commented that it all seemed rather deluxe for Soviet Russia when they first came in that day. Adrian repeated this, in Russian, to their guide, who responded with a laugh as he provided an explanation.
Adrian's face had gone grave, and he turned to explain, very quietly:
"It's for visiting diplomats and their spouses. They're used to married couples being on poor terms..."
Adrian had carefully averted his eyes from Megan for a long several minutes after that.
Megan had no intentions of going to dinner, and hurried into her room to change into her nightgown as a form of preemptive protest in case Adrian tried to make her. She threw her clothes and bra in a little pile in the corner of her closet and pulled on a pale pink shift with short sleeves, plain except for lace over the front and a faint pattern of little rose bouquets all over, and released her hair from the claw-clip,that had been holding it up.
She was tired, but she didn't want to scrub off her makeup just yet. Bad enough that Adrian fucking Veidt was going to have to look at her already somewhat drooping chest without a bra if he saw her dressed like this; no way in hell was she going to let him see her thin, pale little eyebrows with nothing filling them in.
As a result, she climbed into bed, leaning against a pile of pillows with a book she'd bought back in New York before the trip in her hands. It was a collection of Norse myths, retold in prose by someone called Kevin Crossley Holland.
As much research as possible seemed like a good idea right now.
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Jan 17, 2012 21:07:51 GMT -5
While Megan was settling in to read, Adrian sighed and checked his phone.
No messages from Adrien. He didn't know why he'd expected any differently.
There was one, however, from Lukas Ashton, a bright, boyish little recording wishing him "the very best" in that perpetually slightly mocking, lilting way of speaking that Adrian had already come to regard as an Ashton trademark.
Ashton no longer reminded Adrian of his younger self. Something about the- boy? Man? How old was Ashton, anyway- had begun to twist under Adrian's skin, though there was nothing about him that Adrian could quite label as wrong.
And yet, that was exactly the word that came to mind when Ashton did- wrong, wrong, wrong, practically echoing in Adrian's thoughts.
If it weren't for Teja- who did remind Adrian of himself at her age, and seemed to have a good leash on Ashton- Adrian would have withdrawn his support already.
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Post by Megan on Jan 17, 2012 21:46:07 GMT -5
The book had illustrations, albeit not particularly helpful ones. Megan automatically flipped to the plate of Thor first, but other than "hammer" and "beard" it was hard to find anything in common between the illustration and her new housemate. The Thor in her book was ferocious-looking and fiercely redheaded, with a long, ragged beard that hid most of his face and chest and blazing, bloodshot eyes.
On the other side of the world, she knew, there was another Thor in her little bigger-on-the-inside apartment, a young and blond Thor with a short, tidy beard that when she really thought about it was way cuter than beards had any right to be and kind, deep-blue eyes-
Wow. That was a weird train of thought.
Megan turned the pages until she found this book's version of Loki.
He was redheaded too, but not eerie fox-faced Sandman Loki like Megan had anticipated. This Loki was a slim, handsome man with an amused yet not particularly cruel expression and thick auburn hair falling over one shoulder in a braid, with one hand cupped before him and containing a flame.
Megan found herself subconsciously lifting her hand to imitate him and abruptly lowered it again.
She started reading the book, but in the back of her mind, one thought kept lingering:
It must have been hard looking like Loki, Teja's Loki, and growing up with Thor as his brother.
It wasn't that Loki was ugly or anything, certainly. Reservations or no, Megan had to concede he was kinda cute in a pointy, delicate way. His eyes were a little too green for comfort, his skin a tad too bone-pale, and he had that high, awkward forehead with a hairline that started just a bit too far back (or at least appeared to, with how his hair seemed to always fall back from it before hanging down, even after Teja worked her magic on him regarding hair products) and that tiny little thin mouth, but none of these details made him ugly, or even just mundanely unattractive. He was just a little bit... odd-looking next to Thor's sheer golden b-
Manliness. Sheer golden manliness.
Megan, the big clumsy socially awkward muddle-colored elder sister of a slim, white-blond, blue-eyed brother who'd always had a preternatural skill at connecting with people, couldn't help but feel a little bit of kinship with Loki at that moment.
There was a knock at the door.
"I'm not coming to dinner, Adrian, so don't even bother," Megan called automatically.
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Jan 17, 2012 21:55:37 GMT -5
Adrian gently eased the door open two, perhaps three inches, without looking in, waiting in case there was any offended squealing and rushing to shut it. When none came, he opened it enough to lean in.
"I actually came to tell you it's being brought up to the suite," he said. "I am in no mood for continued Soviet hospitality, and I don't want my usual appetites to be mistaken for rudeness or refusal."
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Post by Megan on Jan 17, 2012 22:02:19 GMT -5
Megan glanced up to say something arch but stopped short and uncomfortably.
Adrian was shirtless. In a dressing gown, sure, but shirtless all the same. The dressing gown was shut but still exposed a deep V of muscular chest.
Christ, she thought, at least let him have pants on...
She realized she was staring, and finally pulled together enough to raise her eyebrows haughtily and say "Good. Tell me when you're done and I'll come take my share."
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Jan 17, 2012 22:03:30 GMT -5
"I thought we might dine together, as two strangers in a strange land," said Adrian.
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Post by Megan on Jan 17, 2012 22:07:15 GMT -5
He had chest hair, Megan realized. Not a lot, but she hadn't anticipated any at all. Weird.
She laughed bitterly.
"Oh, sure, you'll pick at your food like a bird while the fat girl Hoovers it all up in front of you? No thank you, I'm not putting myself in that position."
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Jan 17, 2012 22:09:30 GMT -5
"I don't mind if you eat," Adrian said stiffly. "I ordered some blini specifically for you-"
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Post by Megan on Jan 17, 2012 22:10:01 GMT -5
"What's a blini-"
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Jan 17, 2012 22:11:09 GMT -5
"They're very small pancakes in melted butter," said Adrian. "They sounded like something you might like."
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Post by Megan on Jan 17, 2012 22:13:22 GMT -5
Megan stared at him again, this time in shock, before she felt her face turn red and tears began to well up in her eyes.
"Go to hell, Adrian," she snarled miserably. "Just go the fuck to hell-"
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