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xp_logsDarcy offers to assist Pyotr with his immigration paperwork. Things get off to a somewhat rocky start given his dislike of spies, but the two eventually find some common ground discussing food and farm life.
Darcy had been genuine in her offer to help Pyotr navigate the weirdness of the immigration system, so once he was settled in enough to reach out she made sure to clear a morning out for the initial work. She’d set up in one of the old classrooms on the ground floor, close enough to the kitchen that she wasn’t hauling food overly far, but tucked away enough for them to have a bit of privacy while they went over paperwork options. Food was set up on one end of the desk at the back of the room, a towel underneath to protect the surface. Her briefcase was in front of her at the other end, several copies of the paperwork they’d need ready to go.
A knock on the door had her looking up, face smoothing into an easy smile. “Pyotr! Come on in. There’s plenty of food and paperwork ready for you.”
Pyotr, fresh from the shower and showing it, arrived bearing a manila folder stuffed full of paperwork. "Hello, good morning." he said, smiling like Americans do when they're greeting someone. "Found as much of my old paperwork as I could find." he said, placing the file folder down on the table. "And you brought food?" he asked, wandering over to go poke his nose into what she'd brought.
“Yeah. My gran’s cabbage roll recipe. Little early for it, but I didn’t feel like making breakfast. There’s some bread and butter too.” She pulled his file closer, flicking through it with a thoughtful hum. “Glad you kept copies of your student visa paperwork, that’ll be helpful. The most important question, I suppose. Are you looking for a temporary visa status, or working towards a green card or full citizenship? Things change based on what you’re wanting in the long-term.”
Pyotr frowned. "Not sure precisely what the differences are." he confessed. "Do know that I want to keep Russian citizenship. Visit my parents when I can." he said firmly. "Beyond that, want to be able to stay here legally, do the X-Men thing." he said. "Since I am not a spy like you, no reason to play, what was the phrase…" he said and then let his voice trail off as he thought. "Oh, yes! No reason to play silly buggers with the papers."
“I’m a data analyst and lawyer, not a spy. I’m not nearly stealthy enough for that.” Darcy’s voice was dry, but she gave him a quick wink before looking back down at his paperwork. “Okay, so options. Russia and the US both allow dual citizenship without losing the former citizenship, but both countries also require their citizens to enter and exit the country using that nation’s passport, and both are, to my understanding, absolute assholes about expiration during a visit. But it is an option you can work towards, if you’re interested.” Her nails tapped lightly on the paperwork as she thought. “It’d be more expensive, but we could buy you about 90 days of thinking on it with a tourist visa. An employment visa would be better, and we can probably get you in under a higher priority since you’ve got the MFA. Have you considered teaching art skills to others?”
"I do not have much by way of money…" he said worriedly. "And perhaps. Is work I could do and do well, but I've got a commit to the X-Men that comes first." he said. Not that he'd expect spies to understand such things, but perhaps he was being a touch harsh. So to give himself some time and space he went and got himself some cabbage rolls. They, at least, smelled quite good. And he remembered his manners.
Darcy flapped a hand at him impatiently. “Xavier’s is technically your employer for work you do with the X-Men, so it’ll be covering the costs of an employer-sponsored visa. I just want you to know all of your options, not feel railroaded into a particular path. And it shouldn’t take all your time, although a flexible schedule is easier, of course. I was working full-time mostly from home for a local firm before I signed on with Snow Valley, and several of the X-Men work at least part-time or are seeking higher education.” She paused for a moment, putting the paperwork down and giving the man a firm look. “I won’t say everyone in this house understands the sorts of commitments where the work comes first because I can’t be certain about that, but everyone at Snow Valley does. You may dislike the particulars, but some things can’t just take a public punch to the face. It’s not a life for everyone, but it’s still important work. So. I get it, you have honor, you’re willing to work with the X-Men to go in and help. I think you’ll be very useful there.”
She indicated herself with one hand. “Not all of us have powers that are useful for those situations, but we still want to help. I’m functionally a baseline human. I’d be a liability fighting a dude even smaller than you, let alone someone like Magneto or even some of his lower-powered followers. If working with me is distasteful, I can set you up with Matt Murdock–he’s the in-house counsel for Xavier’s in general, but he’d end up asking you why you’re not working with me instead since I know more about the particulars of immigration.”
Pyotr just shrugged that off. "I have good reason to not like spies much. I know what you do is righteous and good, but I've heard that before." he said. "Problem is not with you. Will take time to, how they say, get over it? Yes." he said. "Your babushka did well with these." he said, gesturing with a half-eaten cabbage roll before popping the rest of it in his mouth. "In the meantime, spy who is not spy can help with paperwork, fool mighty American government into allowing mutant to stay in country legally, yes?" he said. "And if part of that means I teach people to see the beauty in the world, well, is benefit to me and world both."
“All I ask for is civility and discretion. I mean, everyone here knows at least a bit about what X-Force does, but.. ah, not sure if the idiom translates well, but loose lips sink ships? Safer to play along with the polite fictions outside these walls. Xavier’s is a school and haven for gifted youngsters who have issues in traditional education. Snow Valley is a Frost Industries think tank. X-Factor is a team of private investigators. Okay, the first and third are wholly true, although right now everyone in the mansion is out of mandatory schooling.”
Darcy took a long sip of her tea. “I’m glad you like them. When I was still at home we’d make them right before Passover, use up the last of the rice in the house. It’s nice being able to make them for others.” She pulled out the application they’d need. “Do you keep receipts for the artwork you sell?”
"Yes." he said simply. "Did not bring them with me, did not think I'd need them. But I keep receipts." he said simply. "Are they needed for your paperwork?" he added after a moment spent getting himself another few rolls. He was hungrier than he thought. "Had neighbors in the collective that would make them when they could. About as good as these." he said with a smile.
“Not today, but it might be useful in the future. If you’ll just make sure the last.. two years are available if we do need them, that would be wonderful.” Her fingers moved over the documents as they talked, highlighting and flagging specific areas. “Alright, I’m going to need you to fill these parts out. I’ve got copies in case of mistakes, because I’ve seen them reject paperwork for crossing out or using correction tape.”
“Collective living sounds interesting. I imagine it’s not completely dissimilar to my own." Darcy gave him a brief smile. "You’re not the only farm kid hanging around. We’d trade with neighbors and other people at the markets for some of the things we didn’t grow or raise ourselves.”
"Yes!" he said with surprise and amusement. "You do not strike me as farm girl but I guess in Capitalist America they grow them differently." he said with amusement as he poured himself some tea and fished out a few more rolls. He deftly managed the "Fill these out" papers into their own pile.
Darcy let out a bark of laughter. “That’s my superpower, I’m never what people expect me to be. The family farm raises alpacas for their wool and I haven’t lived there full-time in over a decade now, so I imagine I wouldn’t really look the part anymore.”
Pyotr blinked. "Alpacas." he said, and then grinned at that. 'We grew things, mostly. Hogs, chickens on the side." he said, and then glanced down at the paperwork. "Do you have a pen?" he asked sheepishly around sips of tea.
“Do I.. yes, of course.” She handed over a ballpoint pen pulled from her briefcase. “We grew a little, mostly enough to feed ourselves and supplemental grains for the animals. Had a few chickens, mostly for the fresh eggs. Sold or traded the excess after we’d done our canning for the winter.” Darcy had a sudden, fierce longing to see her family, but she pushed it aside for later. “Have you met Alani yet? She’s been wanting to build a chicken coop and get a few more chickens, maybe you could lend a hand.”
Pyotr nodded. "Yes, have met her. Nice lady. Gave her barbell present." he said, then waved off her slightly confused look. "Long story. Weight room mishap." he said. "Huh. Chickens." he said. Mean bastards, chickens, and dumber than commissars with a belly full of vodka. "Sounds interesting."
“Gran sent me plans for the coop they have, but I’m not handy with a saw.” The coop probably needed to be bigger, too, but increasing the size of something was much easier. “And Kyle wants roosters, too, which means an area for them so we don’t constantly end up with chicks instead of eggs.” Darcy took another sip of her tea and eyed the book in her briefcase, wondering if she could get a few chapters read while Pyotr was doing his paperwork.
Pyotr made a noncommittal noise as he started to go through his paperwork - slowly - filling out what needed to be filled out cautiously. He also interwove snacking on cabbage rolls between poking at the paperwork.
"Think the State might have some things to say about raising livestock?" he mused as he wrote and munched.
“There’s a visa for agricultural workers, but it’s a lower priority. Certainly it could be one of the things you do in your employment here, if you’re interested. You’d probably have some people willing to help out, and the decrease to the food bill would probably be appreciated, even with the up front costs for getting it up and running. It wouldn’t be the primary thing we list as a duty, however.” She pushed her chair back, moving down the end of the table to butter a few slices of bread as her stomach grumbled. “Although an argument could be made that you’ve got the five-plus years of experience in working on a farm that would count in place of a degree.”
"Spent eighteen years, more or less, on a farm. Maybe ten of those doing work." he grumbled as he eyed the form as it was a live snake that was going to bite him. And his English was pretty good, for Reasons, but bureaucratese could defeat anyone.
“Worth considering then. I can consult with someone more knowledgeable about immigration paperwork about that angle, if you’d like to have it as an option.” Darcy’s phone beeped, and she frowned at the message. “I’m going to leave that with you, as well as a clean copy and my card. If you’ve got questions, leave the section blank and shoot me a text. I’ll let you know when I’m at home, and you can drop by my suite or meet up down here to go over it. Work for you?”
"Yes." he said, looking at the live viper, err, government paperwork form. "I'll let you know if I run into any issues and when I've got all of these completed."
Darcy had been genuine in her offer to help Pyotr navigate the weirdness of the immigration system, so once he was settled in enough to reach out she made sure to clear a morning out for the initial work. She’d set up in one of the old classrooms on the ground floor, close enough to the kitchen that she wasn’t hauling food overly far, but tucked away enough for them to have a bit of privacy while they went over paperwork options. Food was set up on one end of the desk at the back of the room, a towel underneath to protect the surface. Her briefcase was in front of her at the other end, several copies of the paperwork they’d need ready to go.
A knock on the door had her looking up, face smoothing into an easy smile. “Pyotr! Come on in. There’s plenty of food and paperwork ready for you.”
Pyotr, fresh from the shower and showing it, arrived bearing a manila folder stuffed full of paperwork. "Hello, good morning." he said, smiling like Americans do when they're greeting someone. "Found as much of my old paperwork as I could find." he said, placing the file folder down on the table. "And you brought food?" he asked, wandering over to go poke his nose into what she'd brought.
“Yeah. My gran’s cabbage roll recipe. Little early for it, but I didn’t feel like making breakfast. There’s some bread and butter too.” She pulled his file closer, flicking through it with a thoughtful hum. “Glad you kept copies of your student visa paperwork, that’ll be helpful. The most important question, I suppose. Are you looking for a temporary visa status, or working towards a green card or full citizenship? Things change based on what you’re wanting in the long-term.”
Pyotr frowned. "Not sure precisely what the differences are." he confessed. "Do know that I want to keep Russian citizenship. Visit my parents when I can." he said firmly. "Beyond that, want to be able to stay here legally, do the X-Men thing." he said. "Since I am not a spy like you, no reason to play, what was the phrase…" he said and then let his voice trail off as he thought. "Oh, yes! No reason to play silly buggers with the papers."
“I’m a data analyst and lawyer, not a spy. I’m not nearly stealthy enough for that.” Darcy’s voice was dry, but she gave him a quick wink before looking back down at his paperwork. “Okay, so options. Russia and the US both allow dual citizenship without losing the former citizenship, but both countries also require their citizens to enter and exit the country using that nation’s passport, and both are, to my understanding, absolute assholes about expiration during a visit. But it is an option you can work towards, if you’re interested.” Her nails tapped lightly on the paperwork as she thought. “It’d be more expensive, but we could buy you about 90 days of thinking on it with a tourist visa. An employment visa would be better, and we can probably get you in under a higher priority since you’ve got the MFA. Have you considered teaching art skills to others?”
"I do not have much by way of money…" he said worriedly. "And perhaps. Is work I could do and do well, but I've got a commit to the X-Men that comes first." he said. Not that he'd expect spies to understand such things, but perhaps he was being a touch harsh. So to give himself some time and space he went and got himself some cabbage rolls. They, at least, smelled quite good. And he remembered his manners.
Darcy flapped a hand at him impatiently. “Xavier’s is technically your employer for work you do with the X-Men, so it’ll be covering the costs of an employer-sponsored visa. I just want you to know all of your options, not feel railroaded into a particular path. And it shouldn’t take all your time, although a flexible schedule is easier, of course. I was working full-time mostly from home for a local firm before I signed on with Snow Valley, and several of the X-Men work at least part-time or are seeking higher education.” She paused for a moment, putting the paperwork down and giving the man a firm look. “I won’t say everyone in this house understands the sorts of commitments where the work comes first because I can’t be certain about that, but everyone at Snow Valley does. You may dislike the particulars, but some things can’t just take a public punch to the face. It’s not a life for everyone, but it’s still important work. So. I get it, you have honor, you’re willing to work with the X-Men to go in and help. I think you’ll be very useful there.”
She indicated herself with one hand. “Not all of us have powers that are useful for those situations, but we still want to help. I’m functionally a baseline human. I’d be a liability fighting a dude even smaller than you, let alone someone like Magneto or even some of his lower-powered followers. If working with me is distasteful, I can set you up with Matt Murdock–he’s the in-house counsel for Xavier’s in general, but he’d end up asking you why you’re not working with me instead since I know more about the particulars of immigration.”
Pyotr just shrugged that off. "I have good reason to not like spies much. I know what you do is righteous and good, but I've heard that before." he said. "Problem is not with you. Will take time to, how they say, get over it? Yes." he said. "Your babushka did well with these." he said, gesturing with a half-eaten cabbage roll before popping the rest of it in his mouth. "In the meantime, spy who is not spy can help with paperwork, fool mighty American government into allowing mutant to stay in country legally, yes?" he said. "And if part of that means I teach people to see the beauty in the world, well, is benefit to me and world both."
“All I ask for is civility and discretion. I mean, everyone here knows at least a bit about what X-Force does, but.. ah, not sure if the idiom translates well, but loose lips sink ships? Safer to play along with the polite fictions outside these walls. Xavier’s is a school and haven for gifted youngsters who have issues in traditional education. Snow Valley is a Frost Industries think tank. X-Factor is a team of private investigators. Okay, the first and third are wholly true, although right now everyone in the mansion is out of mandatory schooling.”
Darcy took a long sip of her tea. “I’m glad you like them. When I was still at home we’d make them right before Passover, use up the last of the rice in the house. It’s nice being able to make them for others.” She pulled out the application they’d need. “Do you keep receipts for the artwork you sell?”
"Yes." he said simply. "Did not bring them with me, did not think I'd need them. But I keep receipts." he said simply. "Are they needed for your paperwork?" he added after a moment spent getting himself another few rolls. He was hungrier than he thought. "Had neighbors in the collective that would make them when they could. About as good as these." he said with a smile.
“Not today, but it might be useful in the future. If you’ll just make sure the last.. two years are available if we do need them, that would be wonderful.” Her fingers moved over the documents as they talked, highlighting and flagging specific areas. “Alright, I’m going to need you to fill these parts out. I’ve got copies in case of mistakes, because I’ve seen them reject paperwork for crossing out or using correction tape.”
“Collective living sounds interesting. I imagine it’s not completely dissimilar to my own." Darcy gave him a brief smile. "You’re not the only farm kid hanging around. We’d trade with neighbors and other people at the markets for some of the things we didn’t grow or raise ourselves.”
"Yes!" he said with surprise and amusement. "You do not strike me as farm girl but I guess in Capitalist America they grow them differently." he said with amusement as he poured himself some tea and fished out a few more rolls. He deftly managed the "Fill these out" papers into their own pile.
Darcy let out a bark of laughter. “That’s my superpower, I’m never what people expect me to be. The family farm raises alpacas for their wool and I haven’t lived there full-time in over a decade now, so I imagine I wouldn’t really look the part anymore.”
Pyotr blinked. "Alpacas." he said, and then grinned at that. 'We grew things, mostly. Hogs, chickens on the side." he said, and then glanced down at the paperwork. "Do you have a pen?" he asked sheepishly around sips of tea.
“Do I.. yes, of course.” She handed over a ballpoint pen pulled from her briefcase. “We grew a little, mostly enough to feed ourselves and supplemental grains for the animals. Had a few chickens, mostly for the fresh eggs. Sold or traded the excess after we’d done our canning for the winter.” Darcy had a sudden, fierce longing to see her family, but she pushed it aside for later. “Have you met Alani yet? She’s been wanting to build a chicken coop and get a few more chickens, maybe you could lend a hand.”
Pyotr nodded. "Yes, have met her. Nice lady. Gave her barbell present." he said, then waved off her slightly confused look. "Long story. Weight room mishap." he said. "Huh. Chickens." he said. Mean bastards, chickens, and dumber than commissars with a belly full of vodka. "Sounds interesting."
“Gran sent me plans for the coop they have, but I’m not handy with a saw.” The coop probably needed to be bigger, too, but increasing the size of something was much easier. “And Kyle wants roosters, too, which means an area for them so we don’t constantly end up with chicks instead of eggs.” Darcy took another sip of her tea and eyed the book in her briefcase, wondering if she could get a few chapters read while Pyotr was doing his paperwork.
Pyotr made a noncommittal noise as he started to go through his paperwork - slowly - filling out what needed to be filled out cautiously. He also interwove snacking on cabbage rolls between poking at the paperwork.
"Think the State might have some things to say about raising livestock?" he mused as he wrote and munched.
“There’s a visa for agricultural workers, but it’s a lower priority. Certainly it could be one of the things you do in your employment here, if you’re interested. You’d probably have some people willing to help out, and the decrease to the food bill would probably be appreciated, even with the up front costs for getting it up and running. It wouldn’t be the primary thing we list as a duty, however.” She pushed her chair back, moving down the end of the table to butter a few slices of bread as her stomach grumbled. “Although an argument could be made that you’ve got the five-plus years of experience in working on a farm that would count in place of a degree.”
"Spent eighteen years, more or less, on a farm. Maybe ten of those doing work." he grumbled as he eyed the form as it was a live snake that was going to bite him. And his English was pretty good, for Reasons, but bureaucratese could defeat anyone.
“Worth considering then. I can consult with someone more knowledgeable about immigration paperwork about that angle, if you’d like to have it as an option.” Darcy’s phone beeped, and she frowned at the message. “I’m going to leave that with you, as well as a clean copy and my card. If you’ve got questions, leave the section blank and shoot me a text. I’ll let you know when I’m at home, and you can drop by my suite or meet up down here to go over it. Work for you?”
"Yes." he said, looking at the live viper, err, government paperwork form. "I'll let you know if I run into any issues and when I've got all of these completed."
