( oh, okay, you've got a pretty good ear; he might not have grown up on earth but there are too damned many people of his ilk spread out across the mars colonies for it to be any different for him, and even though he doesn't have an accent β well, at least one that doesn't only crop up when he's excited about something β the way the words fall out of his mouth is effortless.
look forward to being cursed at in russian a lot in future. probably. it's just the sort of thing that happens much without him realizing that he isn't speaking english in the first place.
just like a muttering under his breath when the pat to his ass comes. he tells his partners to watch where their hands end up when the circumstance is much more intimate than this β do you think he's going to take kindly to that sort of thing from a stranger? ( except there isn't much he can do in this particular situation, not perched as he is on a broad shoulder and being carried away from imminent danger, but β¦ you had best believe there is going to be a string of grumbled expletives very much not in english that filter up from the bottom of his chest like little growls one right after the other.
did we get carried away with the parentheses? whoopsiedoodle. )
he doesn't have a chance to really survey his surroundings until he's plopped down on the couch, at least beyond the passing notion that this place looks like something straight out of a fairytale book one of the little babushkas back at the colonies would carry around out of habit for looking after the little ones. you know β
the ones that have an ugly old woman riding around in a mortar, wielding a giant pestle and coming straight for your heart because she's gonna fucking eat it.
slavic fairytales are more like scare tactics to keep little badass kids in line and you'll never be able to convince him otherwise. any-fucking-way.
he huffs and tries to keep from shivering as the other looks him over, tells him to stay put while he goes to get the bandages. or don't, and at that, he might just roll his eyes a little. ) Not gonna be a next time. ( not because they're never going to interact again, but because he likes to think he's not going to need rescuing again. good luck with that, kid.
regardless, he stays put.
and that whole trying not to shiver thing is not going so well for him β though he does note the obvious presence of someone else in the cottage that isn't his resident savior, and a female presence, at that. naturally, he has to comment. )
So you live here with your girlfriend or something?
no subject
look forward to being cursed at in russian a lot in future. probably. it's just the sort of thing that happens much without him realizing that he isn't speaking english in the first place.
just like a muttering under his breath when the pat to his ass comes. he tells his partners to watch where their hands end up when the circumstance is much more intimate than this β do you think he's going to take kindly to that sort of thing from a stranger? ( except there isn't much he can do in this particular situation, not perched as he is on a broad shoulder and being carried away from imminent danger, but β¦ you had best believe there is going to be a string of grumbled expletives very much not in english that filter up from the bottom of his chest like little growls one right after the other.
did we get carried away with the parentheses? whoopsiedoodle. )
he doesn't have a chance to really survey his surroundings until he's plopped down on the couch, at least beyond the passing notion that this place looks like something straight out of a fairytale book one of the little babushkas back at the colonies would carry around out of habit for looking after the little ones. you know β
the ones that have an ugly old woman riding around in a mortar, wielding a giant pestle and coming straight for your heart because she's gonna fucking eat it.
slavic fairytales are more like scare tactics to keep little badass kids in line and you'll never be able to convince him otherwise. any-fucking-way.
he huffs and tries to keep from shivering as the other looks him over, tells him to stay put while he goes to get the bandages. or don't, and at that, he might just roll his eyes a little. ) Not gonna be a next time. ( not because they're never going to interact again, but because he likes to think he's not going to need rescuing again. good luck with that, kid.
regardless, he stays put.
and that whole trying not to shiver thing is not going so well for him β though he does note the obvious presence of someone else in the cottage that isn't his resident savior, and a female presence, at that. naturally, he has to comment. )
So you live here with your girlfriend or something?