houseofcards_rp | [ota] aggressive normalcy

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[ota] aggressive normalcy

There's still a lot to learn.

But that's okay. He's starting to feel properly that it's okay. It's okay that he's still getting used to walking with a knife in his boot. It's okay that he's adjusting to which Fives to call by their name and which will all but slap him if he doesn't say 'sir.' It's okay that his greatest visible skill is an incredibly efficient knack for getting paperwork filed and delivered, and that the skill he's been progressing best at is classical piano.

Yes, the man he came here to find is an overwhelming force of nature. Yes, watching his father Challenge to Ten had absolutely sent him, briefly, through half a crisis. But that's okay too.

Because he's here. He's here, and here is the right place to be.

It's the right place to be while he works at filing cabinets. It's the right place to be while he steals mouthfuls in the kitchen and whispers in more comfortable languages than English with other former Outsiders. It's the right place to be while he gets his ass handed to him in the training fields and forces himself back up onto his feet.

And it's the right place to be while he steals out on an afternoon off to just skip rocks over the newly thawed lake. Because it's really nice to know that skipping rocks and throwing knives are both starting to feel equally normal.

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When it came to piano lessons, quite a few people had come and gone. When he first returned to the Deck, he didn't have the time to devote to it, and then there had been a lull between a certain Queen's death and the ascension to Ten where he'd seen prospective piano players almost every day. He hadn't had anyone over for piano lessons since then, so... it was odd and yet comforting to have a young man fumbling over keys in his private sanctuary out in Town. It was almost as if someone had pressed the pause button and forgot about the old recording until someone else accidentally pressed play again.

Equally odd and yet comforting was a familiar head of dark hair skipping stones on a lake that not too long ago had been a sheet of ice.

"Hey, trouble," he greeted. He interrupted the therapeutic stone-throwing by placing a box of what was hopefully familiar-looking farsangi fánk into the young man's hands.

It had been nice, thus far, having the routine of spending time at a piano with the older Spade. It had been nice in particular that it had been Michael, once the slight nerves of the man being the Suit's Jack had worn off.

It was good to have someone patient in his life. Good to have someone who explained things with obvious familiarity with two worlds. Good to feel just a bit like there was a chance of really filling the void he'd barely been aware his grandparents had left.

He absolutely had grown to have a bright smile for Michael, even in moments of interruption like this. Certainly a cheerful little noise for the doughy treats as well, but the smile is mostly for the man himself.

"Ser. You left early to play hooks?"

There was something familiar about the way the young man smiled, but it didn't bother him enough to warrant any deeper thought.

"Play hooks?" he asked with a tilt of the head and a smile in return. Either he'd missed something or something was lost in translation.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"прогул?"

He's been getting better at forcing himself through English, but surely hidden away at the lake, taking a break and about steal a bite of dessert. Surely it's acceptable here and now.

"It sounds like-- hooks in English, yes?"

[*Absenteeism?]

"Ah, I see. I think people call it 'hooky'." Not that, you know, Michael would be all that savvy about slang words.

"I suppose you could call it that," he replied cheerily. He doesn't intentionally filter out longer words, but he consciously talks a little slower, for Aleksei. Years devoted to picking up other languages and a lick of common sense proved that it was easier to understand someone not going at a hundred miles a minute.

"I can't spend too much time here. It drives me crazy. You seem to be doing quite well, though."

Slow helped. The lack of judgement helped. At the moments, taking a bite out of an entirely familiar doughnut helped, box offered back to the Jack with his still un-sticky hand.

"Hooky." Not as much fun to say as 'hooks,' but repeated under his breath briefly to get pushed more firmly into place. "It's good work, here. There's-- lots of feeling useful."

Which he liked. A lot. Who knew?

"And it's spring now. Everyone gets a bit crazy in winter."

He decided to sit down and steal one of the doughnuts. It was a nice day to be outside - the first nice day in a while, no less - and it wasn't as if anyone would come up to them and announce that they were skiving on the job.

"Well I'm glad you like it here." If 'not many people would' was ever implied, Michael certainly didn't say anything like that aloud.

"You'll see more people around now that it's warmer. You might get a bit busier."

The end of winter always bore a bit of celebration--even simple celebration like fried dough and skipping rocks. Having a Face sitting with him for it only legitimized it more.

Munching didn't stop him from bending to look for more stones. More would have to be found at a time now, anyway. It would be rude not to invite Michael to skip.

"That will be nice, yes? More to do, more-- chances to find friends?"

He wiped the corner of his lips with the back of his hand and brushed the icing off his fingers with his thumb.

"Be careful who you become friends with, Lyosha." He said it with such a light tone and a genial smile, looking out over the rippling waters - it almost didn't sound like a warning. But he bore many (many) scars of being too trusting in a nest of vipers. And while there weren't so many vipers lurking in this nest anymore, he'd hate to see a young man hurt himself with his own naivety.

There were quite a few Spades Michael didn't have time for, but he could afford to do that in his position. It wouldn't be the same if he were in Aleksei's position and had to answer to just about the entire Suit.

"The world is full of unkind people."

The calm tone and easy diminutive absolutely kept a smile on the younger Spade's lips as he searched along the ground. Genuine affection was in his own responding sigh much more than any actual frustration.

"You sound like my grandfather." Which, clearly, wasn't a bad thing, for all it brought that tint to Aleksei's voice most teens get when speaking to their elders. "Do you have a better answer how to tell the difference?"

Because there were kind people.

Grandfather? Mmm. The thought of Julien as a parent was a horrifying thing. Perhaps horrifying particularly for Michael because he'd know where that failure had stemmed from.

"Past a certain age, we like to nag at young people thinking we know better," he jested. Really, they did have good intentions at heart, even if they didn't necessarily communicate them so well.

"There isn't really a guide. All Spades are dangerous." Most Diamonds and Hearts were, too. The Clubs... somehow - and maybe Michael was biased given how much time he spent with Lasse - the Clubs seemed the least dangerous. They were, after all, symbolically rounded on all sides. All the others were sharp, one way or another.

"I'm not a good judge of character because I don't really listen to my gut instinct. I'd- get to know someone for five minutes and see how you feel about them."

All Spades are dangerous. He'd heard that before--from a number of people from all four Suits, as well as both the Jokers he'd bumped into since arriving. But then, he'd heard quite a bit about the other three Suits as well.

Cards, really, seem to be dangerous.

His head bobbed obligingly as he popped the rest of the dough into his mouth. His hand was wiped absently against the leg of his pants before he held out a round, smooth stone toward Michael.

"My gut says good things about you."

He chuckled as he plucked the stone from Aleksei's hand.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Even though practically no one was under the illusion that he wasn't dangerous, despite all appearances. Still, he wasn't really a threat to anyone. An older Spade could hope.

"Why'd you come here?" he asked as he played with the stone and let it roll over the backs of his fingers not unlike a seasoned poker player might do with a plastic chip.

Danger is such a relative thing. He'd learned that at a very young age, watching the family dog--almost a nursemaid to him, infinitely patient and kind and more than half the reason Aleksei had learned to walk as quickly as he had--turn vicious on an intruder to their little home. It's just a matter of making certain to either be endeared to the dangerous ones, or else dangerous enough oneself.

Both angles were being worked on, generally. Not at the moment, perhaps--not actively. But enough.

"What, to the lake? I don't think Mister Chives would take kindly to be throwing stones in his halls."

"It's not as if Chives has anything better to do," Michael sighed. He'd long ago given up trying to get the butler out of the castle. Having the space of what felt like half the Decklands between them did wonders for both their blood pressures.

"I meant here in general. Why did you come to the Deck? Did something happen at home"

It felt easier to sidle into the real question this way. True, Michael wasn't someone who made him feel overly suspicious--or someone who seemed likely to have bad intentions in asking for more information.

It still felt easier to slide into talking (even just thinking) about the home of being here and the home he'd known before it.

He ducked to lift another stone from the pebbles of the shore. "When my grandmother passed away, they took the house. It-- was time to start somewhere."

"I see," he said with a tight-lipped smile. And in the meantime, Michael had a perfectly good estate 45 minutes drive away and it was just rotting away along with all the old furniture and ghosts in the hallway. Maybe he didn't see - couldn't understand that kind of predicament at all.

Ultimately, that didn't explain why Aleksei chose the Deck, but that was enough for now.

"I hope this place is what you've been looking for."

Getting comfortable, for the most part, was a good thing. Maybe it was less so in moments of letting his comfort rule his tongue.

"It is." His attention goes back to the rocks, weighing two between each of his hands. "A-- friend of my father said I'd be happy here. It's better than-- trying to make it out there."

"It's not really different, here and 'out there'." He had had a bit of a bitter taste of both - bitter and bittersweet - and the grass had been equally dull on either side.

"People here have a lot of strange ideas about what's 'out there', but I think we know better than to think that it's easier on one side of the door." Because the truth was, if it was better on one side, there'd be no one living on the other side.

"But I'm glad you like it here, nonetheless."

It was impossible to say 'there's family here'--for more than a few reasons. It was still the foundation of coming here at all.

"If it's-- not so different, why do people find it-- surprising that I'd want to come here?"

He grinned and then shrugged. He wasn't about to bring up the on-again, off-again tensions between those that thought they were somehow the only ones entitled to be here and others who weren't all that different, all things considered. Despite everything, the Deck wasn't a terrible place to be.

"Maybe they think you're a little young to be out on your own."

His snort was far from restrained. A little masked by the throw of his current stone along the top of the water for a good six skips, but not intentionally held back in the slightest.

"How am I on my own?"

"Didn't you come here by yourself?" From what he'd said, it seemed like the only family had been grandparents, and at least one of them had already passed away.

"Mind you, the young men that drift in here alone tend to be trouble," he teased with a wink.

"I might be." His heart wasn't quite in the attempted return of the volley. His eyes stayed, for the moment, out over the water. "It just-- feels less alone here. Maybe just smaller, but... even if I went back to Karcag, it--"

His brow furrowed slightly, attention downcast as he turned back toward the older man.

"It just feels, if I died here? Someone would find me. And bury me. You know that feeling?"

There was a joke there about the meticulous butler and how he'd take care of everything if that were to happen on castle grounds, but he wasn't sure how well dark humour in a second language would go over with an impressionable young man so he let it slip.

"Yes." He knew the feeling. That feeling was precisely why, for many years, he'd entertain fantasies of dying Outside and nobody would give a damn or even know that he'd lived and and cried and laughed and loved and died, all in what felt like a span of a breath.

"We'll take care of you. Dead or alive."

[ota] aggressive normalcy

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