Pyotr & April | The Cost of Success
Sep. 6th, 2022 06:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_mayhem posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logs(backdated) Pyotr is down after his meeting with Felicia, but April and Boris aren't going to let him kick his own ass by moping all day.
The door to Pyotr’s side of the suite had still been closed when April woke up, an uncommon enough event that had her frowning slightly even as she got Boris harnessed and clipped for his morning walk. Still, she knew he’d had a late night and a meeting with potential to get his art seen by more people, so she hoped he was just sleeping in a bit. She ruffled Boris behind the ears as he waited for her to slip shoes on, giving him a warm smile and small treat when he didn’t bark. “Good boy,” she enthused with a quiet voice. “We’re gonna do your walk and breakfast and then see what’s up with your Papa, da?”
The two made their way down the stairs and outside quietly, Boris tugging April along on a jog as soon as his paws hit the grass. Trees sniffed, morning energy expended, and nature taken care of they made their way back into the house and up the stairs to their suite.
Pyotr’s door was still closed, and there was no sign the man had been up and about during their run. It was, frankly, more than a bit worrying. April got Boris settled with breakfast before doing her own quick change, then tapped lightly on Pyotr’s door. “Petya? It’s late for you to be sleeping, are you feeling alright?”
Pyotr was not sleeping. He was stewing, which was a fairly rare mood for him. But he finally opened the door to his side of the suite to look down at his suitemate. Behind him was a near-blizzard of paper, finished artworks, sketches, and even doodles. He was still dressed for his meeting but everything was askew, off-center. "Hello." he said dully.
April took in the flurry of papers and mess behind her roommate with a single raised eyebrow, turning her head briefly to bring Boris to heel beside her before he could cause a bigger mess. “I’m going to guess the meeting yesterday evening didn’t go very well,” she said carefully. “And you’ve been brooding alone about it all night, like you tried to do when you found out about your sister?”
He looked at her dully. "It went about as badly as such things could go barring actual violence breaking out." he said, then moved to close the door again.
April slipped her foot in the door. “You know I’m not going to let you be sad alone, Petya.” She kept her voice gentle but firm, the same tone she took when correcting Boris. “Change into something comfortable and come join me on the couch. I’ll get you a drink ready.” She swayed into his space quickly, slipping an arm around his waist in a light squeeze of a hug, then stepped back and towards the kitchen.
Two bottles of vodka, one almost empty and the other completely full thunked lightly onto the counter, followed by one of Pyotr’s protein shakes, a pair of shot glasses, a tall glass of water for her, and some fruit juice. She funneled the juice into the mostly empty vodka bottle, capping it off and giving it a firm series of shakes before moving the lot to the coffee table. It was earlier than she would generally drink, but she didn’t have any plans for the day and would nap it off later.
She disappeared into her bedroom for just a moment, grabbing a fluffy blanket that she enjoyed snuggling under, and tossed it across the back of the couch before waiting impatiently for her roommate to reappear.
Pyotr blinked and then went to change into something more comfortable. Once so attired, he sank onto the couch in their shared area and then reached for the vodka. In what was never a good sign he eschewed the shotglass and took a pull straight from the bottle.
‘That kind of bad, shit,’ April thought to herself as she settled next to him on the couch. “Up boy,” she directed at Boris, letting out a slight ‘oomph’ as eager puppy paws landed on her stomach. She pulled the blanket down, twisting around until Pyotr’s side was a comfortable warmth up her spine. “Vodka, me, puppy. Tell me why things went so poorly.”
"I had it." he said dully. "I had the deal. All I had to do was one simple little thing. And … I just couldn't." he said. "Not even to someone I otherwise like and respect. But they wanted a favor from me, April. That's always how it begins. One little favor." he said, and then grabbed the bottle again to take a pull from it. No food between shots, another bad sign. "Everything I wanted. A name, contact information, fucking pronouns." he said with a bitter laugh. "A deal. In my hand. Everything I wanted … but all it was going to cost me was … everything."
“An unspecified favor, or just something that went too far against your personal ethics?” Either way, she understood why he’d walk away. Her roommate had pretty firm convictions, reminding her of her dad in some of the places he wasn’t willing to compromise on unless there was something truly terrifying at stake. Things that he wouldn’t toss aside just for his career, even when the cost was a loss of advancement.
"Just an unspecified favor. To understand story, need to go back a few years. 2000s. Russia. Everything was in chaos. Perestroika, glasnost, all the old ways thrown away like garbage. But nobody knew new ways. KGB was gone, replaced by FSB. Same men, different name." he said bitterly. "After Misha was selected for cosmonaut, FSB was everywhere. Investigating us, making sure we were good loyal faithful Russians." he said, then took another swallow of vodka. "Was not too bad. Once a month or so, man would come. We pay him some rubles, man would go away. Simple." he said.
"Then Misha died in launch accident." he said, blinking his tears away in memory of his beloved older brother. "Now FSB men come by, want more. Just a little favor, to keep the reports clean. To keep me safe. FSB man knew I was mutant. Kept quiet because we had to do him favors. For years, we paid the man. Did his favors. Kept me safe."
April twisted, wrapping her arms around his torso in a loose hug. “I don’t think I’d be able to agree to an unspecified favor from someone I didn’t trust well,” she admitted. “And with your history… some things ask too high a price.” She hated that there was nothing she could do to fix it, either. Pyotr was probably her closest friend here by virtue of living together, making it much easier to talk and learn one another’s quirks. “I am sorry though, because I know you were excited to have the opportunity.”
"Was everything I want. Everything I need. And I had to say no because some things, as you say, as I said, have too high a price. Now I start search over, find someone who can act on my behalf in this, free me up to focus on being artist, being X-Man." he said. "And it just makes me tired."
“The business side of things, kinda sucky,” she agreed, voice muffled as she continued leaning into his side. “But you’ll figure something out, and I’ll help if I can. See if we can find any galleries with open submissions for small exhibits, community events, whatever. It’s not the end of the world that there are some places you aren’t willing to compromise.”
Pyotr took one more pull from the vodka bottle and then set it back down on their coffee table. "But I think I have moped enough. Better ways to work through kicking own ass." he said with a cracking his knuckles. "Yes. Time to go work out issues." he said with a slow, horrible grin. "Would ask you to join but this is not for Aprils." he said, reaching out and cracking his knuckles. "Time to work out problems in third-best time-honored Russian way." he joked, then set the blanket aside to stand up.
“If you’re sure.” April’s voice was a bit dubious, but she politely retracted her arms and twisted back into a sitting position, letting Boris reoccupy her lap without complaint. “Is there a point where I should actively worry about how long you’re working out, or do you want me to just make sure you’ve got some protein shakes ready to blend for after?”
He just smiled at her. "Under right circumstances, I don't get tired."
The door to Pyotr’s side of the suite had still been closed when April woke up, an uncommon enough event that had her frowning slightly even as she got Boris harnessed and clipped for his morning walk. Still, she knew he’d had a late night and a meeting with potential to get his art seen by more people, so she hoped he was just sleeping in a bit. She ruffled Boris behind the ears as he waited for her to slip shoes on, giving him a warm smile and small treat when he didn’t bark. “Good boy,” she enthused with a quiet voice. “We’re gonna do your walk and breakfast and then see what’s up with your Papa, da?”
The two made their way down the stairs and outside quietly, Boris tugging April along on a jog as soon as his paws hit the grass. Trees sniffed, morning energy expended, and nature taken care of they made their way back into the house and up the stairs to their suite.
Pyotr’s door was still closed, and there was no sign the man had been up and about during their run. It was, frankly, more than a bit worrying. April got Boris settled with breakfast before doing her own quick change, then tapped lightly on Pyotr’s door. “Petya? It’s late for you to be sleeping, are you feeling alright?”
Pyotr was not sleeping. He was stewing, which was a fairly rare mood for him. But he finally opened the door to his side of the suite to look down at his suitemate. Behind him was a near-blizzard of paper, finished artworks, sketches, and even doodles. He was still dressed for his meeting but everything was askew, off-center. "Hello." he said dully.
April took in the flurry of papers and mess behind her roommate with a single raised eyebrow, turning her head briefly to bring Boris to heel beside her before he could cause a bigger mess. “I’m going to guess the meeting yesterday evening didn’t go very well,” she said carefully. “And you’ve been brooding alone about it all night, like you tried to do when you found out about your sister?”
He looked at her dully. "It went about as badly as such things could go barring actual violence breaking out." he said, then moved to close the door again.
April slipped her foot in the door. “You know I’m not going to let you be sad alone, Petya.” She kept her voice gentle but firm, the same tone she took when correcting Boris. “Change into something comfortable and come join me on the couch. I’ll get you a drink ready.” She swayed into his space quickly, slipping an arm around his waist in a light squeeze of a hug, then stepped back and towards the kitchen.
Two bottles of vodka, one almost empty and the other completely full thunked lightly onto the counter, followed by one of Pyotr’s protein shakes, a pair of shot glasses, a tall glass of water for her, and some fruit juice. She funneled the juice into the mostly empty vodka bottle, capping it off and giving it a firm series of shakes before moving the lot to the coffee table. It was earlier than she would generally drink, but she didn’t have any plans for the day and would nap it off later.
She disappeared into her bedroom for just a moment, grabbing a fluffy blanket that she enjoyed snuggling under, and tossed it across the back of the couch before waiting impatiently for her roommate to reappear.
Pyotr blinked and then went to change into something more comfortable. Once so attired, he sank onto the couch in their shared area and then reached for the vodka. In what was never a good sign he eschewed the shotglass and took a pull straight from the bottle.
‘That kind of bad, shit,’ April thought to herself as she settled next to him on the couch. “Up boy,” she directed at Boris, letting out a slight ‘oomph’ as eager puppy paws landed on her stomach. She pulled the blanket down, twisting around until Pyotr’s side was a comfortable warmth up her spine. “Vodka, me, puppy. Tell me why things went so poorly.”
"I had it." he said dully. "I had the deal. All I had to do was one simple little thing. And … I just couldn't." he said. "Not even to someone I otherwise like and respect. But they wanted a favor from me, April. That's always how it begins. One little favor." he said, and then grabbed the bottle again to take a pull from it. No food between shots, another bad sign. "Everything I wanted. A name, contact information, fucking pronouns." he said with a bitter laugh. "A deal. In my hand. Everything I wanted … but all it was going to cost me was … everything."
“An unspecified favor, or just something that went too far against your personal ethics?” Either way, she understood why he’d walk away. Her roommate had pretty firm convictions, reminding her of her dad in some of the places he wasn’t willing to compromise on unless there was something truly terrifying at stake. Things that he wouldn’t toss aside just for his career, even when the cost was a loss of advancement.
"Just an unspecified favor. To understand story, need to go back a few years. 2000s. Russia. Everything was in chaos. Perestroika, glasnost, all the old ways thrown away like garbage. But nobody knew new ways. KGB was gone, replaced by FSB. Same men, different name." he said bitterly. "After Misha was selected for cosmonaut, FSB was everywhere. Investigating us, making sure we were good loyal faithful Russians." he said, then took another swallow of vodka. "Was not too bad. Once a month or so, man would come. We pay him some rubles, man would go away. Simple." he said.
"Then Misha died in launch accident." he said, blinking his tears away in memory of his beloved older brother. "Now FSB men come by, want more. Just a little favor, to keep the reports clean. To keep me safe. FSB man knew I was mutant. Kept quiet because we had to do him favors. For years, we paid the man. Did his favors. Kept me safe."
April twisted, wrapping her arms around his torso in a loose hug. “I don’t think I’d be able to agree to an unspecified favor from someone I didn’t trust well,” she admitted. “And with your history… some things ask too high a price.” She hated that there was nothing she could do to fix it, either. Pyotr was probably her closest friend here by virtue of living together, making it much easier to talk and learn one another’s quirks. “I am sorry though, because I know you were excited to have the opportunity.”
"Was everything I want. Everything I need. And I had to say no because some things, as you say, as I said, have too high a price. Now I start search over, find someone who can act on my behalf in this, free me up to focus on being artist, being X-Man." he said. "And it just makes me tired."
“The business side of things, kinda sucky,” she agreed, voice muffled as she continued leaning into his side. “But you’ll figure something out, and I’ll help if I can. See if we can find any galleries with open submissions for small exhibits, community events, whatever. It’s not the end of the world that there are some places you aren’t willing to compromise.”
Pyotr took one more pull from the vodka bottle and then set it back down on their coffee table. "But I think I have moped enough. Better ways to work through kicking own ass." he said with a cracking his knuckles. "Yes. Time to go work out issues." he said with a slow, horrible grin. "Would ask you to join but this is not for Aprils." he said, reaching out and cracking his knuckles. "Time to work out problems in third-best time-honored Russian way." he joked, then set the blanket aside to stand up.
“If you’re sure.” April’s voice was a bit dubious, but she politely retracted her arms and twisted back into a sitting position, letting Boris reoccupy her lap without complaint. “Is there a point where I should actively worry about how long you’re working out, or do you want me to just make sure you’ve got some protein shakes ready to blend for after?”
He just smiled at her. "Under right circumstances, I don't get tired."
