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xp_logsPyotr, in exile from his suite, is trying to find something to watch on satellite TV. Instead, he and Boris meet Inez.
Inez didn't want to be idle forever, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't enjoying the short break being at the mansion had provided for her thus far. Eventually she'd be out and looking for work, but for now it was nice to just... be. It'd been a minute since she'd caught her breath.
One of the luxuries she'd missed was cable tv - or, rather, tv at all. So she decided this afternoon would be a good time to check out the lounge and see if a) it was available, and b) if so, what she could find to watch, and headed that way to assess the situation.
Cooking shows were one of her guilty pleasures, but she'd be damned if she'd put them on if anyone else was around. Unless they were already watching something like that, then she'd happily just go along with it.
Normally, Pyotr watched television in his suite. But his suitemate was nostril-deep in some obnoxious fashion reality show so here he was, gigantic remote in hand, browsing the deep end of the satellite spectrum looking for something from Russia. He was feeling homesick a touch and not even Boris's puppy love could abate it this time. So all six and a half feet of him were slouched on the couch, one hand absently petting Boris with the remote while the other dug into a rather gigantic bowl of popcorn. So far the only interesting thing he'd found is some dingbat from the deeply frozen bits of Siberia explaining how to cook pierogies as if she were speaking to traumatic brain injury patients.
It was impossible to miss him on the couch, especially with the dog, so part of Inez was tempted to turn around and head back to her room. Then she remembered that she didn't actually own the place and had to stop bein' stuck up and try to mingle, even if that wasn't always easy.
Plus the tv was showing how to make pierogies and mmm, pierogies. She put a hand on her stomach to quiet it then headed further into the room, giving the man a little wave.
"Heya, mind a little company?" She plopped down into a recliner kitty corner to him, still in good view of the screen. "Name's Inez, I'm new, haven't had a chance to meet everyone just yet."
Pyotr loved meeting new people, unless they were magi and involved with his sister. That hadn't gone well for him. "Hello." he said, his English tainted by a strong nigh-stereotypical Russian accent. "I'm Pyotr. Welcome to the Institute." he said. "And this here is Boris. He's excitable but harmless." he cautioned, as sure enough Boris had grown tired of the remote skritchies in favor of new person to give him pets. The dog jumped over Pyotr to head straight for Inez, seeking to love up on a new person.
"Thank you kindly, nice to meet you, Pyotr, and Boris! Hi Boris!" She was a sucker for dogs, even though she'd never had one of her own, and Inez reached a hand down for the dog to sniff and - hopefully - ok her as a friend. She'd pet and scratch him as much as he'd let her. "Aww, he's a good boy, yes he is." She smiled at him and looked back over at Pyotr. "You been here long? Seems like a nice enough spot so for, for sure." She was still mulling over how long she'd stay but Boris was winning her over already and she'd only just met him.
"Not too long." he said with a rather impressively muscled shrug. Boris, for his part, wanted to sniff everything and taste everything and be petted until Inez's hands fell off if he had his way. "My sister just returned from a long trip so we're reconnecting." he said, understating things by a few thousand percent. "As for me, am X-Man and I do art for a living, or at least I did. Still make some dollars selling portraits here and there." he said. "And Boris is, as said here, bestest boy. He adores meeting people and being petted."
His size and shape didn't go unnoticed for sure, and she kept petting the dog as she grinned at him. "Oh, that sounds nice too, glad you're reconnectin' with her." Family was an awkward subject for her so she focused on the other parts after that. "Art, huh? That's pretty cool, I couldn't draw a straight line m'self, but it's awesome that you're actually sellin' your work." She smiled again at the mention of Boris and shifted from pets to behind the ear scratches. "Aww, he is the bestest boy, isn't he? Aren't you?"
Boris barked as if in agreement and snuggled up to Inez more, his tail going a mile a minute and alternating between slapping on the love seat and slapping against Inez's leg. "So." Pyotr asked. "If not offensive or sensitive, what's your gift?" he asked her as he munched popcorn and idly considered looking for something other than babushka making - oh. Oh, no. Now she was butchering cod. And still speaking to them in Russian as if they were Americans or the brain-damaged.
"Nah, yer fine, not offensive at all," she answered, leaning back a little in her chair while still petting Boris. "Basically I have enhanced strength, endurance, speed, stamina... a little of everything that way. Sorta like the sayin' goes - everything's bigger in Texas. Well, I'm just a lil' bigger than most," Inez said with a chuckle. "How 'bout you, if likewise it ain't too offensive t'ask?"
Pyotr smiled and then ... shifted. One moment he was flesh-and-blood, slouching on the sofa, and the next minute he's transformed himself into metal, grown a foot, and packed on some _serious_ muscle. "Texas may be big to Americans, but in Siberia, we are biggest of all." he said, his voice a little deeper and all color leached from his eyes. "Am very strong, very tough. Do not get tired at all in this form." he said.
She stopped petting Boris, much to the dog's dismay, and it took a few beats - and some bumps from Boris - before she snapped out of it. "Oh my stars..." Inez murmured, taking in the newly transformed metallic man in front of her. "Yeah, no doubt, y'got me beat there and then some. A lot more and some," she chuckled. "That is impressive as hell, Pyotr, damn." She gave him another once-over, the metallic skin was quite the sight to behold. "An' you don't get tired at all in that form?" It was nothing short of amazing to her, wow.
"When I first changed, Papa thought it would be good to know what limits were before ... well, before the FSB did. Long story. So I ran. For three days straight. Covered many kilometers, could have kept going until fell into ocean or wound up scaling the Great Wall or something silly like that." he said, then shifted back to his flesh-and-blood form. "Metal form is why they call me Colossus." he said with a slightly embarrassed smile. "But, truly, only truly desire to express self via art." he said before munching on some more popcorn. "Would like some?" he asked, holding the bowl in her general direction. Way to be rude, Pyotr!
"Colossus, huh?" she repeated. "Definitely an appropriate name, heh." He was definitely a colossus, if anything the name was more of an understatement. Inez chuckled and reached over to take a handful of popcorn, throwing a piece into the air and tilting her head to catch it in her mouth. "Mmm, thanks, Pyotr. And yeah, I hear art is good for that, never been anythin' I could do though. I'd love to see some of yours some time, if you're open to sharin' that is," she added, hoping that wasn't too forward.
Pyotr cursed this rare occasion when he didn't have a sketchbook handy. "Sure." he said with a smile. "Be happy to show art. Most of it right now is sketches of various co-workers and other people at Institute, a lot of it is sister and family, some are landscapes, Not sure what kind of art you like. I have not tried hand at Asian styles. Might do that for practice and skill development." he mused out loud. However, after her little display of aerial popcorning, he picked out a fully popped bit of popcorn and tossed it at her face. Lightly. Very lightly.
"I don't know much about it at all," she confided, looking down at the puppers and petting him some more once she finished her popcorn. "I'd be happy to see whatever you'd wanna show me, though, sounds like some good stuff, portraits and landscapes and the like." Inez had no idea about Asian art styles but practice and experimenting were definitely important in general. She looked up and blinked at the light throwing of popcorn, opening her mouth and tilting her head back to catch it - barely - thanks, enhanced reflexes! She laughed and chewed for a second before looking back at him. "Nice shot, Pyotr! Y'didn't tell me you were an ace quarterback too!"
Pyotr frowned a bit at that reference as he dug through his brain to remember what a quarterback was, let alone an ace one. Ah, now he remembered. American Football. "Well, as have been told, have a cannon for an arm but cannot aim for shit." he said with a smile and a shrug. "Grew up playing proper football, skating on Lake Baikal with brother." he said. Ah, Misha, Pyotr still missed you to this day.
She wrinkled her nose a little at the term 'proper football.' Pyotr was absolutely correct, and even Inez knew that, but having grown up with American football that was her proper football. Not something worth arguing over, however, especially with a nice guy she'd just met.
"Oh, d'you have a brother here too?" she asked, still petting Boris. "And your aim was spot on that time, sir!" Her reflexes helped of course but he had to throw it close enough for her to even have a chance, after all.
"No. My brother died when I was in my teens. He was a cosmonaut, his launch didn't go well." he said simply. "Just me and my sister now." he added. "Her name is Illyana. Shortish, blonde hair, social skills of drunken peasant." he said with a slight smile.
"Ah. I'm sorry," she proffered, even if there'd been no way for Inez to know. She knew that pain and hated to stir it up in someone else, intentionally or otherwise. "Illyana, that's a pretty name. And I'm not just sayin' that because I'm biased," she said, flicking her own blonde locks a little with a small smile of her own. "Can't say my own social skills are all that much better, which I can only sometimes blame on the bottle."
Pyotr laughed at that - he and Misha had hair of coal while Illyana was honey-blonde. "Well, if you're so inclined, maybe a Texan such as yourself can learn how to drink like proper peasant Russian, da?" he said with a laugh. "If not, well, cannot blame you. Drinking like Russian peasant can be rough on the liver. Rougher if you don't like pickles or caviar."
"Now that sounds like a good time to me," Inez agreed with a laugh. "Even if I don't succeed, there's a whole lotta fun in tryin', right?" She wasn't really big on pickles and had never had caviar before but he had her at alcohol. "We'll have to give it a shot some time, and I look forward t'meetin' Illyana too."
"Da, da. Let me know when you want to try experiment. Will lay in proper vodka and food supplies as well as pickle brine. For hangover." he said cheerfully.
"Y'had me at vodka," she agreed, while thinking that he may have lost her at pickle brine. But there was a first time for everything!
Inez didn't want to be idle forever, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't enjoying the short break being at the mansion had provided for her thus far. Eventually she'd be out and looking for work, but for now it was nice to just... be. It'd been a minute since she'd caught her breath.
One of the luxuries she'd missed was cable tv - or, rather, tv at all. So she decided this afternoon would be a good time to check out the lounge and see if a) it was available, and b) if so, what she could find to watch, and headed that way to assess the situation.
Cooking shows were one of her guilty pleasures, but she'd be damned if she'd put them on if anyone else was around. Unless they were already watching something like that, then she'd happily just go along with it.
Normally, Pyotr watched television in his suite. But his suitemate was nostril-deep in some obnoxious fashion reality show so here he was, gigantic remote in hand, browsing the deep end of the satellite spectrum looking for something from Russia. He was feeling homesick a touch and not even Boris's puppy love could abate it this time. So all six and a half feet of him were slouched on the couch, one hand absently petting Boris with the remote while the other dug into a rather gigantic bowl of popcorn. So far the only interesting thing he'd found is some dingbat from the deeply frozen bits of Siberia explaining how to cook pierogies as if she were speaking to traumatic brain injury patients.
It was impossible to miss him on the couch, especially with the dog, so part of Inez was tempted to turn around and head back to her room. Then she remembered that she didn't actually own the place and had to stop bein' stuck up and try to mingle, even if that wasn't always easy.
Plus the tv was showing how to make pierogies and mmm, pierogies. She put a hand on her stomach to quiet it then headed further into the room, giving the man a little wave.
"Heya, mind a little company?" She plopped down into a recliner kitty corner to him, still in good view of the screen. "Name's Inez, I'm new, haven't had a chance to meet everyone just yet."
Pyotr loved meeting new people, unless they were magi and involved with his sister. That hadn't gone well for him. "Hello." he said, his English tainted by a strong nigh-stereotypical Russian accent. "I'm Pyotr. Welcome to the Institute." he said. "And this here is Boris. He's excitable but harmless." he cautioned, as sure enough Boris had grown tired of the remote skritchies in favor of new person to give him pets. The dog jumped over Pyotr to head straight for Inez, seeking to love up on a new person.
"Thank you kindly, nice to meet you, Pyotr, and Boris! Hi Boris!" She was a sucker for dogs, even though she'd never had one of her own, and Inez reached a hand down for the dog to sniff and - hopefully - ok her as a friend. She'd pet and scratch him as much as he'd let her. "Aww, he's a good boy, yes he is." She smiled at him and looked back over at Pyotr. "You been here long? Seems like a nice enough spot so for, for sure." She was still mulling over how long she'd stay but Boris was winning her over already and she'd only just met him.
"Not too long." he said with a rather impressively muscled shrug. Boris, for his part, wanted to sniff everything and taste everything and be petted until Inez's hands fell off if he had his way. "My sister just returned from a long trip so we're reconnecting." he said, understating things by a few thousand percent. "As for me, am X-Man and I do art for a living, or at least I did. Still make some dollars selling portraits here and there." he said. "And Boris is, as said here, bestest boy. He adores meeting people and being petted."
His size and shape didn't go unnoticed for sure, and she kept petting the dog as she grinned at him. "Oh, that sounds nice too, glad you're reconnectin' with her." Family was an awkward subject for her so she focused on the other parts after that. "Art, huh? That's pretty cool, I couldn't draw a straight line m'self, but it's awesome that you're actually sellin' your work." She smiled again at the mention of Boris and shifted from pets to behind the ear scratches. "Aww, he is the bestest boy, isn't he? Aren't you?"
Boris barked as if in agreement and snuggled up to Inez more, his tail going a mile a minute and alternating between slapping on the love seat and slapping against Inez's leg. "So." Pyotr asked. "If not offensive or sensitive, what's your gift?" he asked her as he munched popcorn and idly considered looking for something other than babushka making - oh. Oh, no. Now she was butchering cod. And still speaking to them in Russian as if they were Americans or the brain-damaged.
"Nah, yer fine, not offensive at all," she answered, leaning back a little in her chair while still petting Boris. "Basically I have enhanced strength, endurance, speed, stamina... a little of everything that way. Sorta like the sayin' goes - everything's bigger in Texas. Well, I'm just a lil' bigger than most," Inez said with a chuckle. "How 'bout you, if likewise it ain't too offensive t'ask?"
Pyotr smiled and then ... shifted. One moment he was flesh-and-blood, slouching on the sofa, and the next minute he's transformed himself into metal, grown a foot, and packed on some _serious_ muscle. "Texas may be big to Americans, but in Siberia, we are biggest of all." he said, his voice a little deeper and all color leached from his eyes. "Am very strong, very tough. Do not get tired at all in this form." he said.
She stopped petting Boris, much to the dog's dismay, and it took a few beats - and some bumps from Boris - before she snapped out of it. "Oh my stars..." Inez murmured, taking in the newly transformed metallic man in front of her. "Yeah, no doubt, y'got me beat there and then some. A lot more and some," she chuckled. "That is impressive as hell, Pyotr, damn." She gave him another once-over, the metallic skin was quite the sight to behold. "An' you don't get tired at all in that form?" It was nothing short of amazing to her, wow.
"When I first changed, Papa thought it would be good to know what limits were before ... well, before the FSB did. Long story. So I ran. For three days straight. Covered many kilometers, could have kept going until fell into ocean or wound up scaling the Great Wall or something silly like that." he said, then shifted back to his flesh-and-blood form. "Metal form is why they call me Colossus." he said with a slightly embarrassed smile. "But, truly, only truly desire to express self via art." he said before munching on some more popcorn. "Would like some?" he asked, holding the bowl in her general direction. Way to be rude, Pyotr!
"Colossus, huh?" she repeated. "Definitely an appropriate name, heh." He was definitely a colossus, if anything the name was more of an understatement. Inez chuckled and reached over to take a handful of popcorn, throwing a piece into the air and tilting her head to catch it in her mouth. "Mmm, thanks, Pyotr. And yeah, I hear art is good for that, never been anythin' I could do though. I'd love to see some of yours some time, if you're open to sharin' that is," she added, hoping that wasn't too forward.
Pyotr cursed this rare occasion when he didn't have a sketchbook handy. "Sure." he said with a smile. "Be happy to show art. Most of it right now is sketches of various co-workers and other people at Institute, a lot of it is sister and family, some are landscapes, Not sure what kind of art you like. I have not tried hand at Asian styles. Might do that for practice and skill development." he mused out loud. However, after her little display of aerial popcorning, he picked out a fully popped bit of popcorn and tossed it at her face. Lightly. Very lightly.
"I don't know much about it at all," she confided, looking down at the puppers and petting him some more once she finished her popcorn. "I'd be happy to see whatever you'd wanna show me, though, sounds like some good stuff, portraits and landscapes and the like." Inez had no idea about Asian art styles but practice and experimenting were definitely important in general. She looked up and blinked at the light throwing of popcorn, opening her mouth and tilting her head back to catch it - barely - thanks, enhanced reflexes! She laughed and chewed for a second before looking back at him. "Nice shot, Pyotr! Y'didn't tell me you were an ace quarterback too!"
Pyotr frowned a bit at that reference as he dug through his brain to remember what a quarterback was, let alone an ace one. Ah, now he remembered. American Football. "Well, as have been told, have a cannon for an arm but cannot aim for shit." he said with a smile and a shrug. "Grew up playing proper football, skating on Lake Baikal with brother." he said. Ah, Misha, Pyotr still missed you to this day.
She wrinkled her nose a little at the term 'proper football.' Pyotr was absolutely correct, and even Inez knew that, but having grown up with American football that was her proper football. Not something worth arguing over, however, especially with a nice guy she'd just met.
"Oh, d'you have a brother here too?" she asked, still petting Boris. "And your aim was spot on that time, sir!" Her reflexes helped of course but he had to throw it close enough for her to even have a chance, after all.
"No. My brother died when I was in my teens. He was a cosmonaut, his launch didn't go well." he said simply. "Just me and my sister now." he added. "Her name is Illyana. Shortish, blonde hair, social skills of drunken peasant." he said with a slight smile.
"Ah. I'm sorry," she proffered, even if there'd been no way for Inez to know. She knew that pain and hated to stir it up in someone else, intentionally or otherwise. "Illyana, that's a pretty name. And I'm not just sayin' that because I'm biased," she said, flicking her own blonde locks a little with a small smile of her own. "Can't say my own social skills are all that much better, which I can only sometimes blame on the bottle."
Pyotr laughed at that - he and Misha had hair of coal while Illyana was honey-blonde. "Well, if you're so inclined, maybe a Texan such as yourself can learn how to drink like proper peasant Russian, da?" he said with a laugh. "If not, well, cannot blame you. Drinking like Russian peasant can be rough on the liver. Rougher if you don't like pickles or caviar."
"Now that sounds like a good time to me," Inez agreed with a laugh. "Even if I don't succeed, there's a whole lotta fun in tryin', right?" She wasn't really big on pickles and had never had caviar before but he had her at alcohol. "We'll have to give it a shot some time, and I look forward t'meetin' Illyana too."
"Da, da. Let me know when you want to try experiment. Will lay in proper vodka and food supplies as well as pickle brine. For hangover." he said cheerfully.
"Y'had me at vodka," she agreed, while thinking that he may have lost her at pickle brine. But there was a first time for everything!
