houseofcards_rp | [ota] sleeping under strange skies

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[ota] sleeping under strange skies

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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Oh. Huh. That does need to done in a hurry, if only because of who asks.

"Which Mr Chives, the young one or the old one? I can make it up to one of 'em for you, but not the other. And I can't really get on with today without moving these."

There's half a second's consideration before he decides. "The-- older one. Mister Yo-llan. The-- other was busy when I arrived."

But he'd been told to expect to meet the Butler. He felt fairly certain that this reaction from a stranger who seemed able to hold sway over them was still worrisome.

Drat. She sucks in her cheeks, annoyed. "Uck. No, Iollan's never going to listen if I make excuses for you. Um- you're a new face, unless you've been hiding. How well d'you know the Town?"

Don't worry, she has a Plan.

This will make sense later, he's certain. She'll turn out to be some niece or cousin or daughter-in-law and this reaction will make sense.

Until then.

"Not-- well, but-- I'm good with directions?"

It will occur to her eventually to introduce herself.

You know. Eventually.

"Well, you don't have to be as good as you are right now, yeah? Maybe you can get turned around on a couple of streets." Does he see where she's going with this. Does he. Or should she put it in plainer terms.

Give him a second or two. There's got to be a brief language decoding before conceptual decoding.

It does end in a short, sharp sort of laugh before he tugs his mittens off to shove into his pocket.

"If I am caught, I am take you down with me."

She wags her finger before turning back to the room with her tanks. "Yeah, and you'll still totally get a heavier sentence. Scrub all the toilets, I shouldn't wonder. I can talk my way out if I grovel."

There's another pleased hum as he steps easily to follow. Really, with two people, he doesn't expect it will last long.

"Why? You are-- good with psychology?"

Because what else could it possibly be. What else.

She waves a hand vaguely before stopping behind one end of a tank. "With Chives psychology, anyway. I'll figure something out if he sees through you."

She points a finger at him meaningly. "Good Spades gotta know how to bend the truth."

And he'll park at the other, brows both arching curiously at her mandate.

"How does one learn the best-- bending-ways?"

"Figure out how much of the truth you can tell, whatcha don't need to tell, and what the difference is between 'em."

She gets her fingers in under the corners, nodding for him to do the same. "And then you have to adjust for different people."

"Is it--" and the slightest pause to make sure he's got a good, safe grip for the lift "--better to be more conservative, first? When-- learning people?"

She wrinkles her nose a bit as they figure out which way they'll orient and move out into the corridor. "Depends on how you think you're going to be with them. Friend or acquaintance or someone to avoid."

There's a soft huff as he shifts his grip a bit now there they're upright.

"Which are you, then?"

She's considering this semi-seriously, shrugging only just enough to not upset anything. "Acquaintance at worst, I guess. Be on nodding terms with everybody and try not to give anyone a reason not to like you. Though there's some who won't like you without your doing anything."

"Is Mister Chives one of those?"

Really, it was mostly had to think of Iollan liking anyone. At least after these first few hours knowing him.

"Preeeetty much. You practically have to have blue blood to be liked." Pause. "Or to have a high position, but that doesn't guarantee it. It's like... the road to being liked is hard to climb, but the road down to being disliked is really easy. Y'know?"

Up the stairs now. Careful.

Carrying things up stairs had come much more often as his grandparents aged. At least this time he's not doing it alone.

"Is-- actual like or just-- respect more important?"

If she had a free hand, she'd wave it vaguely. As it is, this twisting of lips will have to suffice.

"I figure that depends on what you want out of life, y'know? If you wanna rise high, you definitely need respect. Liking isn't in the picture. 'Course, if it's both, that's better. Like our Queen. I don't know anyone who doesn't like her."

Respect it is, then. Which doesn't mean throwing away chances for both.

"I suspect I will never-- what is it. Look so good in tall heels as she does, mm? It might be a more difficult path."

That gets a deep chuckle out of her. "Oh, trust me, no one ever will. You have to start young, I think. She probably learned to walk in high heels instead of barefoot."

"High heels." There. Important English word stored. He'll thank her for it when it remains an infinitely useful piece of vocabulary. Or something. "You stand more chance than I do, I think."

That needs to wait for them to get onto a landing before she answers. "And a whole hundred more people ahead of me. Probably more."

And a side-kick to showcase her sneakers. "Definitely more. This is the highest I ever go."

That gets a calm little noise like a laugh. "I suppose we're about even, then. It seems a much-- less dangerous way to live."

She manages a shrug before sneaking a look behind herself. "Yeah, you might end up tripping and cutting a major artery with your stiletto. Uff- it's this floor."

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