ultransicâ:
you could call niko many things. ruthless. cruel. sociopathic. but what you could never call him was impatient. years of repression does that to a manâit gives him an abundance of patience to tolerate his surroundings and peers, most of which infuriated him. that virtue was honed even further when he met astrid. his patience was what turned a contemptuous relationship into something more comfortable, and borderline co-dependent. niko trusts her as far as he can throw her, and she does the same. it was harmonious. that is if both of them are in good moods, and that evening, he wasnât.
his already stressful day was worsened by astridâs usual antics cranked up to a thousand. dinner was abysmal, and if him not touching his food wasnât enough of a sign that he wasnât in the mood, it was nikoâs outright dismissal towards astridâs boy toy and anything that came out of his mouth. truthfully, on any other day, he wouldâve been happy to go along with it, but there was something about that guy that peeved him. niko didnât like him, and he didnât like astrid pulling that stunt on his bad day.
after dinner, he retreated to their salon for a glass of scotch, as is customary for most evenings. though he knew he couldnât stay angry at astrid for long, niko wasnât going to let go of his ire that quickly. eyeing her intently as she walked closer to him to loosen his tie, the young man scoffed, âwhen have i ever been so much as mildly amused with anyone youâve brought home? havenât you exhausted the pathetic nouveau riche by now, astrid?â he sneered, âyou wasted our food on a brainless sycophant.â
her hands dropped from nikoâs shirt, face hardening at his words. clearly, he wasnât in the mood to play â something astrid did not take kindly to. she had assumed this night would be like all the others, their usual post-dinner routine. they would talk, drink, and watch a movie of her choosing. her sudden sourness at nikoâs mood was certainly for less petty reasons, but astrid convinced herself that she only felt slighted because she had wanted to watch roman holiday tonight.
âi take it youâre not coming to the party, then?â she quipped, trying to regain some footing after the sudden onslaught heâd come at her with. the truth of it all stung a little, bruising her ego in a way that only he knew how to do. whilst she wasnât foolish enough to assume that niko would form any kind of bond with the guy, there was a part of astrid that felt he was different to the string of unintelligent quarterback-types that frequented their home. âyou just didnât like that he could talk back to you.â she said, haughtily. âtalk backâ was a generous turn of phrase. astridâs frat bro could only just keep up with nikolai at the best of times, something sheâd found quite amusing to witness.
she sneered, and everything about her tone was cruel, âso, when we bring out the dom pĂ©rignon for your floozies, you think thatâs a good use of our booze?â it was a petty gripe to bring up, and one that astrid wasnât all that hung up on to begin with, but it was all she could formulate as a retort. âbesides, itâs not like you ate, anyway. yâknow, a hunger strike temper tantrum is very immature, nikolai.â she was hardly one to reprimand him on immaturity, but astrid hoped to push things even further â she never could leave well enough alone.
