[ota] sleeping under strange skies

[thepupthatmatters]

He's ready for this. Of course he's ready for this.

He wouldn't be here if he weren't ready. Holló wouldn't have sent him through without being prepared. This isn't, after all, the sort of place a person gets sent without it being purposeful. Even the people who wander here 'by chance' are the people who need to be here, he's been told.

So it's the right time for Aleksei Volkov to be stepping out into the cold sunlight barely warming the walls of the Castle Spades, newly minted and processed and told he'll have to start working his way up from Two now.

The few things he'd brought with him have been settled into the cramped quarters he'll be sharing with a few other recent arrivals. What's stuck from his grandmother means he'll be starting off under the apparently quite severe Spade kitchen staff.

Hopefully it isn't the end of the world that he needs to pause when he's sent out to Town to pick up a few extra bottles of truffle oil and vanilla extract. Hopefully being 'ready for this' doesn't mean he can't take a moment--take a deep breath--as he lets settle into his bones the fact that he's here.


{ooc; He can be bumped into at the castle or being lost in Town. Also tag plz?}

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[longingforthenight]

He'll probably hear her before he sees her. As she rounds the corner in the store, she's speaking into a phone irately in hushed, but rapid Tamil, not looking very happy at what she's hearing. Casting a glance at the shelf, she nearly bumps into him as she grabs one of the many brands of vanilla essence off the shelf - then properly takes a look at him before pulling the phone away from her ear.

As someone's words come out of the phone, too faint and jumbled for either of them to hear properly, Kritika raises an eyebrow at the boy. "Need help?"

[thepupthatmatters]

He does hear something, but it's not recognizable instantly as English--or any of the Slavic languages his mind recognizes the patter of fairly quickly. As such, it doesn't quite break him out of the daze of being spoiled for choice with spices.

"...it may not be-- complete possible."

Because it was entirely possible Iollan had purposely sent him on an impossible task.

[longingforthenight]

"Don't underestimate me. I can make anything happen," she says with a grin before speaking briefly into her phone and hanging up. "Are you looking for something specific?"

[thepupthatmatters]

Far be it from him to underestimate people here, of course. There's still a rather disbelieving furrow in his brow as he glances over at the woman speaking.

"I can't imagine I'm not. Mister Chives just said-- 'the vanilla.'"

[longingforthenight]

"Oh, Mr. Chives did, hmm?" She lifts the same brand off the shelf that she had taken for herself, waving it in front of the boy. "I always run across this vanilla in the kitchen when in baking. You're a Spade, then?"

[thepupthatmatters]

There's visible relief as she takes down the bottle. There's also no attempt made to grab at it--he's seen the reflexes people have here.

Intimidating, to say the least.

"So they told me, ma'am."

[longingforthenight]

"And new too. Wow. I'm Kritika Rao, PA to the Queen. It's a pleasure to meet you." She deposits the bottle in his basket, smiling broadly. "And you are?"

[thepupthatmatters]

His body ducks in a bow, but it's still not quite natural.

"Volkov. Ah-- Aleksei. Kitchen errands. It is pleasure to meet you, I'm sure."

And life-saving to have an answer to the vanilla problem, but surely that went without saying.

[longingforthenight]

"Aleksei," she says slowly, trying out the name on her tongue before nodding. "Does the illustrious Mr. Chives need anything else from you? I'm in no hurry to get home, so I can help."

[thepupthatmatters]

Someday, someone will tell him about 'Alex' and his life will get infinitely easier. Today is not that day, clearly.

"Truffle oil." And the hint of a smile is gone again, because if vanilla was this hard?

He imagined truffles might kill him.

[longingforthenight]

"Ooh, that one's harder. Well, let's find the aisle." She tugs at his sleeve, peering curiously at the shelves as they wander around the supermarket. Once the truffle oil is spotted, she taps her chin thoughtfully, staring at the different brands and varieties. "You know, I've never used truffle oil - I'm more of a baker. But I suppose we could look at the ingredients and choose the one that's purest? Hmm."

[thepupthatmatters]

He'd have followed without being tugged, but having the extra incentive helps. Besides, there's certainly something nice about having a pretty woman hustling you here and there.

"Are-- you sure?"

[longingforthenight]

"Not at all," she says brightly, turning to him with a smile. "But how about this? If Mr. Chives gives you any trouble, I'll take the blame." And she'll punctuate the sentence with a wink before going back to perusing the different bottles of oil.

[thepupthatmatters]

The pause isn't at all a translation issue. It's sheer lack of understanding.

"...why?"

Spades, he'd been told, weren't remotely humanitarian. Or caring about others.

[longingforthenight]

"... it'd be my fault," she says carefully, turning to him. "I don't let others take the fall for something I do wrong. It'd be dishonorable."

[thepupthatmatters]

Huh. Well. That does make sense. It isn't quite what he'd been told, but it fits into the world as he's learning it.

"...thank you, Miss Rao."

[longingforthenight]

"Oh, if you don't mind, call me Kritika. There are three of us - my sisters and I - it gets confusing." She returns to the shelf, humming before picking out one of the bottles at random. "What do you think?"

[thepupthatmatters]

"Miss Kritika?"

It's the tick of a language learner, really. Everyone clearly not his age had always been 'Professor,' 'Mr' or some variant of 'Ms.'

He reaches hesitantly for the bottle, examining it dubiously. "What-- do you think will happen if it's wrong?"

[longingforthenight]

"Perfect." She nods at the saying of her name, then... shrugs at his question. "I don't really know. I went up the ranks too fast to really spend too much time under Mr. Chives' thumb, and I rarely screwed up, thanks to my sister looking out for me. But he'll probably just glare at you a little and then set you to washing dishes. No big deal."

[thepupthatmatters]

That's got him bobbing his head thoughtfully, still studying the bottle. There's time yet before he builds up proper subtlety in this language.

"How high up?"

[longingforthenight]

"In rank? I'm a Six. I would've been higher, but then I got my job offer." She grins, almost to herself, and tucks a lock of hair behind one ear. "I couldn't pass up that sort of offer. I admire Katya too much. Have you met her yet?"

[thepupthatmatters]

Six. That's filed, at least. Slowly he's learning.

"I haven't. I-- didn't think it would be so easy to meet our Faces."

[longingforthenight]

"They're usually around. It's not as if they keep themselves shut away from everyone else. You'll run into Katya at some point, especially since you're new, probably. She's tall-" she breaks off, then smiles impishly. "You know what? I won't ruin it. You'll see for yourself."

[thepupthatmatters]

"...I'll see?"

That... sounded foreboding. He'd have to call Holló with some questions.

[longingforthenight]

"Yeah." She nods, not making eye contact with him. "You know - when you try to explain a work of art, it never turns out well. So I won't try to describe Katya before you see her. Does that make sense?"