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 Posted: Sun Feb 23, 2014 1:39 pm
Another day's work done. Only one thing had Otto going through the day; the promise of a home cooked meal. He was getting rather spoiled, having grown accustomed to Kostya cooking supper for him so regularly. He felt better, healthier, more energized even though emotionally he was down in the dumps.
Food had a magic. A magic that made him feel happier.
Knowing he was coming back to his room to something hot, and not junkfood, had him making sure he got there quickly. The door flew open as Otto arrived at his apartment, eager to see what the Russian had been cooking up. Sometimes he'd finish before Otto got there, leaving nothing but a clean kitchen and packed up food. Sometimes he caught him still cooking.
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Posted: Sun Feb 23, 2014 2:40 pm
Cooking for Otto had become commonplace, melding into the fabric of his schedule. His room served more as a library to himself than any place like home; the basement was his home, the old bricks and cracked floors.
But Otto's room was becoming a home in its own way, and Otto himself came with it. Kostya's hair was getting longer, enough to need to utilize barrettes (in red white and blue, courtesy of you know who) to pin the bangs out of his eyes.
As Otto opened the door, there was a basket of fries already waiting for him, ketchup waiting to the side of it. The buns were wrapped in foil and keeping warm on the counter, and little dishes of various toppings (onion, pickles, copious amounts of shredded cheese) were ready, too.
"Not eating too many," he scolded in advance, gesturing at the heaping plate of fries (because Otto was a growing boy, always), "the hot dog almost done." He thumbed at the oven, broiler set to imitate the nature of a grill without having to actually to use one.
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Posted: Sun Feb 23, 2014 2:50 pm
Otto's eyes lit up, exuding a joy his expression didn't always give away. Joy. A basket of fries, and the waiting toasted buns and dressings for hot dogs. A teenage dream dinner. The teen slid into the kitchen area, instantly hopping into a bar stool and grabbed a fry.
He paused as Kostya made sure to warn him before Otto even managed to take a bite, ketchup precariously dripping from the fry. "Uh huh." He obliged, half listening, and crunching on the fry.
Aw Hell. Screw it. He was ******** happy to be getting such an awesome meal.
Otto grinned.
"Thanks, Kostya."
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Posted: Sun Feb 23, 2014 2:57 pm
Kostya's shoulders straightened, the thanks and exuberance proving that he'd done a good job. It was hard, sometimes, to follow an ideal rather than specific orders, but he was getting better at predicting what Otto wanted. America, too. Sometimes he felt like the right-hand nurse, offering a scalpel to a surgeon before the doctor asked.
(We serve, we serve, the litany repeated. We serve, we serve. The return.)
"Is being my pleasure," he replied, cutting himself a slice of colby jack cheese to snack on. "Should only be being a few minute more." Kostya shuffled over to the refrigerator, and pulled out a pitcher.
"Strawberry lemonade?"
A little sugar never hurt anyone.
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Posted: Sun Feb 23, 2014 3:04 pm
Otto's jaw dropped. He made... he made lemonade?!
"Uh huh..." He replied after a moment. It was surreal. It was like a weekend at his grandfathers again, back when he was a little kid. It was a little bit heart wrenching, but also so good.
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Posted: Sun Feb 23, 2014 3:18 pm
Kostya poured Otto a glass, setting it in front of him, and stood on the other side of the bar.
And then his glasses gleamed, much like some sort of cartoon villain.
"So," he said, conversational, "have many more thought of changing division?"
Hard ball, Otto. Hard ball.
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Posted: Sun Feb 23, 2014 3:22 pm
Otto flinched.
Since they'd talked so in depth about it that night with America, it was often plaguing his thoughts. He wasn't happy where he was, and he knew it would never get better. He wanted to switch out. Badly. But there were so many worst case scenarios that his imagination came up with, he always thought it was impossible.
But the idea never went away.
"Yeah." He nodded, taking a long chug of the sweet flavoured drink. He gasped out after half the glass was drained, setting it down firmly. "I... I think I might do it. Maybe... when I have some time," and courage, "I wanna talk to Allen." Even if Allen was a nut job, maybe he could get past most of his crazy and actually speak with him.
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Posted: Sun Feb 23, 2014 3:32 pm
Kostya hummed with quiet approval, chest swelling with pride. Otto was likely efficient where he was, but productivity often boomed when workplace morale was high. "Good," Kostya said, offering a singular, solemn nod.
America was going to be pleased.
He turned to pull the hot dogs out of the oven, then pulled open the foils keeping the buns warm. Wielding the tons expertly, he managed to put a bun on a plate, pry it open, and put a hot dog in it, setting it before Otto so he could smother it however he wanted.
"Is good for you," he said. "If have to be putting life on line, should be for faction you are wanting to be in. Allen...is..."
Kostya stared into the distance, recalling with no small amount of trauma of enduring many hours of narrated pikachu stories, as well as naruto. "Strange. But good man. Big heart."
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Posted: Sun Feb 23, 2014 3:40 pm
Otto bit his lip to contain any attempt to smile again, reaching out to start adding dressings to the hotdog. Everything was put on it, onions and peppers and everything that could fit. He wasn't a picky eater in the least.
"Yeah. He's on the complete opposite side of the spectrum from Caelius. I'm a little more inclined to suffer bein' a hunter if it's for someone who genuinely seems to care. Even if he is... eccentric." Or crazy. Just plum crazy.
Besides, Death never seemed to have any semblance of guidance or direction aside from 'don't ******** up'. Otto couldn't handle the stress of it anymore. So much depended on him making his own projects, knowing what to do at any given time. And he never did. It all scared him. Even the one job he sort of knew how to do, weaponization, gave him nightmares from the shear idea of it. Beings distorted and turned into an object for all eternity. Aleria's dying face, Thackery's scared pleas for help,
..and Amrita's expression of complete hatred and loss.
He wasn't a people person. he couldn't put himself out there and willingly try to coerce any more students to fight their fight. His shell didn't have room for other people.
"The only trick is trying to get him to focus, I guess. I wonder if Simon is any easier to reason with.."
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Posted: Sun Feb 23, 2014 5:15 pm
Kostya eye-balled Otto's hotdog, growing more and more sceptical that it could be consumed by anything less than a snake with its jaw unhinged, but somehow, he managed. Remarkable.
"I understand," but he didn't, "have put in time to your dues. Is time, now, to move on."
Kostya fixed his own food, heavy on the relish, and put on his thinking cap.
"Has to be sure. Somevun has to be keeping track of him and his...every...thing..." He thought of Allan hushing him, as though Kostya might tattle on him to his father. Or his minder. Or his keeper. "I see him one night, in kitchen, drinking whole jug of milk. All he say to me is, 'don't tell Simon.'"
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Posted: Sun Feb 23, 2014 5:27 pm
Nothing got in the way of a hungry nineteen year old boy, not even obscenely dressed hot dogs.
Otto could believe that one. The Sun lead was a giant. Maybe milk really was some miracle growth potion. No wonder the man was so tall. How did he even fit in the halls? Maybe that was why he bluw apart walls. Just to accommodate him.
"He's really.. really.. something. All his talk of nakamas and bankais or whatever is really gunna be hard to deal with if I do get in." He was still treating it like an if. If he succeeded in switching. Maybe Caelius wouldn't notice he was gone, or that someone else was overseeing weaponization or bringing his morning coffee ad bagel. He'd have to know, somehow. He knew everything but never bothered to enlighten the masses on what anything important was. He probably had no issue with one of his own deserting. Maybe.
Otto huffed, his thoughts deafening with maybes, ifs and worries. He drowned them out by devouring his hotdog. Focus on the now, not tomorrow or yesterday. They were not within his control, which made it all the more terrifying.
"Why do you wanna join Death?" he asked after finishing the first dog, already drowning another one in dressings galore.
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Posted: Sun Feb 23, 2014 8:13 pm
"Have no idea vhat bane-key and new-calm-ah mean," Kostya replied with a nod. "Is all sounding like much nonsense to me. But seem very, ah. Team build. Sun hunter, all very honest. All very proud."
Otto asked about his desire to change, and Kostya took a bite of his hotdog to stall off answering the question, chewing slowly.
"Data," he settled on, "is king. Information. Have desire to communicate vith Halloveen, perhaps maybe if they are not knowing so. Am vanting to learn, and am vanting to serve. Death is good place for me."
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Posted: Sun Feb 23, 2014 8:22 pm
"The whole team spirit thing isn't something I'm good at... but even with that? I think it'd be better for me." Simpler, not easier. Everything had it's drawbacks. But in the end, he was sure this would be for the best. He needed to stop pretending he could fill a role not meant for him, just to please the unappreciative figurehead. He couldn't try anymore. There was nothing left inside him that could do it. "Hm. Cool.." Otto murmured, finishing off the second hotdog with a little more reservation than the first. "Then Death will be perfect for you." It sure wasn't for Otto. "Between golems and the haunted house, it's pretty easy to talk to them..." For normal people, anyway. Not Otto.
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Posted: Sun Feb 23, 2014 9:02 pm
He shrugged. "Is easy to get sveep up vith, in heat of moment. Like team for sports." He thought of America asking about the Olympics, and while he did not partake outside of a crowd, he was not above cheering for a success that was either being struggled for inevitable.
"Thank you," Kostya said, with great solemnity, "for vote of confidence. If being honest, sometimes vorry. Am accustom to more immediate order. Protect this, heal that. Bandage somevun. Shield that vun." He waved the tongs around like a fencing weapon, and shrugged afterwards.
It wasn't the whole truth, but the other side, that was efficient at cleaning up messes of the human and hunter variety, was one that no one needed to know except his direct superiors.
"But, ah. No risk, no revard, da?"
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Posted: Sun Feb 23, 2014 9:10 pm
Otto refrained from commenting about sports. He didn't like sports. Not normally, anyway. He took a couple of fries, dipping them in ketchup and snacking away. Two loaded hotdogs later and he was still eating. "Death is a lot less up front about what you gotta do. Be prepared to think on the fly." He warned, knowing from experience. There was no set ideal to strive for. No go to order to adhere to. It was never easy, and never straightforward. "I sure hope your reward is worth the risk, man." He meant it.
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