Do you want some more, Sir?

Isla Delany // 19 // Waitress

[bolshoiiballet]

"Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal!"

[bolshoiiballet]

She laughs, stretching her arms luxuriously and shaking out her hair again, “I make the space. Am stronger than I look.” Adrik has already come home once to find all the living room furniture shoved against the walls. He had looked like the vein in his forehead might pop. “He will be happy to have the gift from you I think,” Sasha comments, dunking one of her cookies into her hot chocolate.

"Ha, I wish. Am far too poor for to buy gifts. I make mine- here, you see," Sasha leans over and plucks a bag from beside the couch, opening it to reveal an enormous, half-finished jumper that almost rivals her own in its garishness. The garment has a gaping hole from where the body hasn’t quite been stitched to the collar properly, and one sleeve is noticeably longer than the other, but it’s far better than her past attempts and she’s really rather proud of herself. And really not as cool as she may seem. "Also am make scarf for my dedushka. He is ill- has the Oldtimer’s disease."

[isla-delany]

"Y-you must be strong i-if you're a ballet dancer," Isla agrees, her eyes trailing over Sasha's body, which only proves her theory. She may be willowy, but there was clear muscle in the other girl's legs and her stomach appeared flat as a board. Add that to her upright posture and presence and it wasn't hard to believe that she could pick up a man and throw him to the other side of a room just as easily as she could do the splits. She blinks, suddenly realising that she'd been looking too long and snapping her eyes back to Sasha's. "Good... I-i hope he likes his gift." After all, she had spent a while picking it and she just wanted to make her friend happy.

A rather loud jumper is presented before her, resplendent in what may be reindeer, or perhaps sheep (she can't quite tell, but supposes that that just adds mystery to the gift). It's sweet, silly and Sasha's wearing such a proud, bright grin that Isla can't help but feel warmed and smile more back, more genuinely. "I'll bet he'll, he'll love it... I-it's freezing out, h-he'll need it. And I-I like these." She waves a hand at the mystery creatures. "Oldtimers?" Adrik had mentioned that his grandfather was ill in passing once, but Isla didn't know the details, nor recognise Sasha's creative take on English in this instance. 

[bolshoiiballet]

"Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal!"

[bolshoiiballet]

Sasha pops Isla’s coat next to hers on a peg by the door, smiling brightly as she glides off to the kitchen to make the hot chocolates. She had been faintly horrified to arrive at her brother’s new apartment and discover that there was hardly any food in the place. She’d actually had to go grocery shopping like some domestic skivvy.

"Well, have still been doing some thing for dance. Have to stretch, otherwise legs go like rock," She says in a matter-of-fact tone, though she’s honestly more worried about how her toes will cope with en pointe after some time off. “Mostly have watch the Christmas movies though- Home Alone, The Santa Clause, Rise of the Gwarians… Adi sets up TV for the Russian writing so I understand.” With the drinks made and a plate of her mutant biscuits balanced in her hand, Sasha returns to the living room and curls up on the couch. “What you have been doing? Busy for buy the gifts?” She asks, patting the space beside her the moment she has a hand free.

[isla-delany]

Isla is relieved to see that there is actually food in the house this time, since the last she nearly had an aneurysm and insisted on running to the nearest grocery store for supplies. But apparently Sasha has been keeping them, just. Just another thing she can offer as help, if Adrik accepts her proposition (or, rather, plea). 

"Do you even h-have space to stretch in h-here?" Isla giggles (still sounding as though she's about to flee, but that's how she usually sounds), sitting down carefully next to Sasha and crossing her legs conscientiously. In truth, she'd been spending most of her time in the hospital, silently begging Rose to wake up again. She didn't. "Subtitles... Th-the words, they're called subtitles. And yes, a-as you saw... I brought a lot of things, for my old colleagues, A-Adrik..." Rose. At the back of her apartment, in a cupboard, a small pile of presents sits gathering dust, never to be opened. Isla bites her lip, not wanting to start crying again. "H-have you gone shopping yet? N-New York's pretty g-good for it... Well, th-that's an understatement." 

[bolshoiiballet]

"Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal!"

[bolshoiiballet]

"Great, you can be keeping me in the company. Is so bored being here all alone, and Adi is at shops for hours," She complains. It’s all well and good loafing around and watching Christmas films, but Sasha is a people-person, and is used to being surrounded by friends at all times. The apartment is far too quiet when she’s by herself. 

She gives her shoulders a small shrug, reaching out to take Isla’s coat, “Good. I try to make myself at home…” As is evidenced by the nest of blankets on the sofa, and some of her clothes hung up on any available surface. “Not start at NYCB until Saturday- then have workshop all day. How are you? You want something? Coffee? Hot cocoa? Christmas cookie? I make them.” And they’re all horribly misshapen and a little burnt and drowning in red. green and white icing. Sasha had been very bored.

[isla-delany]

All around the apartment are clothes, blankets and the general impression that Sasha has gone around and altered each item until it was to her taste. Although, if she was honest, Isla rather thought it looked slightly better. Neither Adrik, nor his new roommate are homemakers and even their rooms, where they spend most of their days, tend to emit strange odors that remind Isla of boy's changing rooms at high school. But now there is the distinct smell of burning baking, plus some flowery scent she can't quite place. But it's nice; far less sterile than before. 

Handing her coat to Sasha, she perks up immediately at the mention of cocoa and nods fervently, hanging awkwardly by the sofa, not wanting to sit until bidden. "I-I'd love some cocoa... And biscuits. I'm sure they're l-lovely." She smiles. "What have you b-been, um, doing then? I-if you've not been training?" It was a good distraction, although the gnawing anxiety within her was still painfully present. 

[bolshoiiballet]

"Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal!"

[bolshoiiballet]

Sasha hops gracefully to her feet as the credits on the movie begin to roll, not considering that she shouldn’t answer the door to someone else’s apartment in a strange city where anyone could be standing on the other side. Not that it matters, as the girl in the hall is instantly recognisable to her. Sasha quickly smooths out her festive jumper (an item that would have looked frankly hideous on anyone else) and takes her hair down from its casual braid, fluffing it a little before pulling the door open. “Oh, Isla, privet! You are wanting for to speak my brother? He is out…”

[isla-delany]

Isla jumps slightly at the bright welcome but relaxes quickly, having recognised the nice girl, smiling and stepping inside the apartment. She shivers as the cold rolls from her, a light dusting of snow starting to melt in her hair and trickle through her blonde curls, but ignores it, taking off her gloves and stuffing them into her coat pocket. "Um, hey, Alexandra... Oh, y-yeah, b-but I-I can wait... I-it's nice to see you, anyway. How have you been?" She knows, from experience, that the city can take some getting used to. But then again, Sasha didn't look one for culture shock. Or any sort of shock, something Isla envied heartily. 

[stitchesnstone]

[bolshoiiballet]

"Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal!"

[isla-delany]

Isla knocks on the door of the apartment, chewing her lip nervously and looking rather hunted. To be honest, anyone would be in her situation; the landlord breathing down her neck for rent she didn't have, jobless and suddenly alone in the city that never slept. With Rose gone, her entire support system has crumbled beneath her. From inside, she hears a heavily accented, joyous shout and smiles, recognising both the voice and the movie. "H-hello?"

[cleangetawayrose]

Sleeping Beauty || Open

[cleangetawayrose]

"That fire didn’t hurt me," Rose muttered, her head spinning a little. "Lila.." She huffed and went quite for a moment as everything caught up with her, all the aches adn pains. She gave a little shake of her head. "The bar didn’t make it…did it?"

[isla-delany]

Rose murmured something and Isla almost missed it. But she caught it, just, and her face fell into a horrified expression. "Y-your stepmother? What... What did she do?" Her eyes teared up again, her grip on Rose's hand tightening. "N-no... I'm so sorry, Gerry."

[bedpostsongs]

[cleangetawayrose]

Sleeping Beauty || Open

[cleangetawayrose]

Rose frowned, rubbing her throbbing temples. She’d moved too fast. She looked over as she heard a shriek and blinked, seeing a familiar face, “Izzy?” She murmured. “What…where am I?”

[isla-delany]

"Oh my-" Isla rushed over, grasping Rose's hand tightly, wanting to hug her but knowing that it would hurt her friend. Still; she couldn't stop tears of joy spilling over and down her cheeks. "Y-you're... You're in the hospital, Ger'. You were r-really badly h-hurt in the fire..." She took a deep breath; she'd been so convinced that Rose would die, that she'd be alone again. 

[cleangetawayrose]

Sleeping Beauty || Open

Rose’s eyes snapped opened suddenly. It was not a slow wakening with grogginess or fog. It was like she was coming awake after being startled. Blue eyes opening wide and beholding the white room that filled with a sudden, nameless fear. Where was she?

She pushed herself up on an elbow, looking around, “Hello?”

[isla-delany]

The sudden movement from the previously completely still Rose made Isla nearly fall off her seat in shock with a small shriek. Once she'd steadied herself and realised what was happening, however, she gave a gasp, tears filling her eyes as she stared. "R-Rose?"

[freyasfrench]

X

[bolshoiiballet]

It’s just unbelievable- of all the people she could have bumped into. Maybe Isla will be able to point her in the direction of Adrik’s apartment, that would save her struggling to make herself understood by a taxi driver. “Is very coincidence,” Sasha says, shaking her head and smiling softly. It’s just like her brother to go on about her achievements- he’s proud of her, not that he’d ever admit it to her face. “Yes, is normal. Sasha is name for family and good friend- like the nicknames, but more special.”

"I am," She agrees, not out of big-headedness, but simply because it’s true. It’s the reason she’s in New York at all. "Was best at home, but maybe not as best here. But is okay, dance in corps de ballet for A Midsummer Night’s Dream in Spring. You come and watch, will get the papers for you and Adi.” When Isla explains that she’s lost her job, Sasha regards her with a degree of sympathy and lightly pats her hand again. “Oh no. Is okay, you get back to job soon. Or get better job. Things work out in the ending, da?”

[isla-delany]

"Yeah... Wait. So Adrik d-doesn't know you're here?" Isla stares at Sasha for a few seconds, torn between horror at the panic Adrik will surely go through and amusement at the same idea. A stressed Adrik, although it made Isla want to make him better and take away the stress, was always rather funny, just because of his scowl; dark brows heavy, mouth a firm, hard line of disapproval. Eventually she breaks out into a nervous giggle, although her smile is genuine and bright. "He is going to freak... Y-you, you really should call him. He j-just moved in with his friend too."

She listens to Sasha explain about her nickname with interest, one hand absent mindedly playing with her hair (a nervous tick - she does this when she's listening. Or agitated. Or bored. It's really just a habit). "That's really sweet... My family j-just called me Isla." Not that they ended up being all that fond of her, so she supposes even if they had been Russian, they would have used her full name all the time. "So, how d-do you know when y-you can use the short version with someone? D-do you tell them?" How embarrassing would it be if you use it at the wrong point, and the other person thought you weren't at that point yet? Isla gives a small shudder at the thought, secondhand embarrassment coursing through her.  

Isla watches Sasha, her eyes alive with interest and she nods, although there's still a guarded look in her expression. She wasn't all that special, why on earth would the other girl want her to go to her performances? Unless she was just being nice, but had no real intention of inviting her to the show. All the same, she'd still love to go; the ballet was one of her favourite places to go when she was little and there was many a photo of Isla decked out in ballet gear back home (or in the loft where her mother had bundled them). "I-I'd love to see you dance... I bet the costumes will be amazing, for, for the fairies and e-everything."

She freezes again at the contact, not being used to such displays from almost-strangers (or anyone, really), but tries not to let her discomfort show on her face, smiling quickly. "N-no, there was a fire... I-it'll take a while to rebuild. A-as for getting another job," she bit her lip, a slight frown creasing her brow. "I-I don't have very good s-social skills." Isla can barely talk to shop asisstants, let along ask for a job, or even get through an interview without a great deal of stuttering. 

[bolshoiiballet]

Sasha laughs and claps her hands together in delight, “Yes, is my brother! So weird that you are know him, out of all people in this city. How is he? He talks about me?”

Following Isla’s line of vision, Sasha sees the woman too, and gives her a look that dares her to say something rude in her presence. The woman suddenly becomes very interested in the contents of her purse. “Is good. Meet different people, learn new things.”

Sasha nods, eyeing up the cake from behind the glass and trying to telepathically transmit her desire for the biggest slice to the barista. “Is my most liked. Favourite cake.” She pays the man and leaves a tip, before following Isla back to their sofa and tucking her lithe legs beneath her. “I dance the ballet. Am win the schoolership to work at NYCB for one year. Is very exciting- usually I am dancer at Bolshoi in Moscow. And you? Why you are in New York?” She asks, breaking off a piece of cake with her fork and popping it in her mouth.

[isla-delany]

Isla laughs too in disbelief, smiling brightly for the first time since they bumped into each other. "What a coincidence! I-I used to work with him, we, we're good friends. Um, y-yeah, sometimes... He's called you while we were working, and he talks about your dancing a lot. He calls you something else though... Sasha." 

Nodding, Isla folds her legs against herself and watches Sasha with interest, her eyes scoping her graceful body for a second. Yes, it's very clear that she's a dancer, with her willowy limbs, pointed features and deliberate movements. "That's so cool, y-you must be really good! Well, A-Adrik says you are... So, will you be i-in the shows?" Her own stomach flips as Sasha asks her about what she's doing in the city, but she merely shrugs, stirring her drink. "I-I'm just working, nothing much interesting. Well, I-I'm not even working anymore." 

[bolshoiiballet]

Sasha wrinkles her nose slightly at the unfamiliar word, but proceeds to guess at the meaning, seeing no other conceivable option. It never occurs to her to ask for clarification. “My brother is not like when people make fun of accent. Adi likes to pretend he does not care what people think, but really he cares very much.” Always getting into fights, even when they were children. He had never liked people getting the better of him. “Am different. Do not care what people think, because I know me better than they know. And my accent is sexy, so fuck the haters.”

"I will have same as you. And… morkovnyy pirog.” Unable to remember the proper words, Sasha just points at the carrot cake behind the counter, distinguishable from the iced vegetable shapes that decorate it. “Privet,” She greets the barista with a dazzling smile and then shuts up to let Isla order.

[isla-delany]

"Adi?" Isla frowns slightly, her brows coming together as she slowly worked something out. "You... Your brother, i-is he called A-Adrik? Adrik Maximov." 

At this last sentence, Isla blinks, then bursts into giggles.

"Y-yeah, f-fuck them indeed!" She agrees, liking the girl more and more by the minute (although she spots a scandalised looking woman behind them and immediately flushes). "Although there are a-a lot of Russians in New York... There's a lot of everything, r-really."

Her eyes follow to where Sasha is pointing and she nods, approaching the counter and trying to suppress the urge to stutter, as she usually did when talking to strangers (or anyone). "Carrot cake... It's called carrot cake. Oh,um-" She orders two caramel hot chocolates from the rather bemused looking barista and carries them, plus the slice of cake, over to their table carefully. Once they settle, she looks over at Sasha, blowing gently on her drink. "So... Why are you in N-New York?"

[bolshoiiballet]

"No worry. Didn’t think you laugh at me, just at my accent. Am sound like fresh off the boat, da?" It’s really her own fault that her English is so horrible- Sasha had never tried very hard in school, so her limited knowledge of the foreign language is entirely from music or subtitled TV shows. "Worrying too much, margaritka. Relax.”

She shakes her head, digging in her handbag for a slim, expensive-looking purse. Everything Sasha owns is like this, tasteful and seemingly luxurious, but in reality plucked from thrift shops with the occasional boutique purchase. “Can try, but will not let you. Is only right, because I cannot say my own drink. You choose for me.” Without waiting for an agreement, Sasha glides off to join the queue, making doe-eyes at an unsuspecting barista.

[isla-delany]

Isla looks up, still looking horrified at herself and hearing the harsh voice in her mind reprimanding her over and over again. Even Sasha's soothing words don't soften it and she screws her eyes shut for a second, wanting it gone. It never did go, but at least she could turn it down for a little while. The only times it was ever gone completely, or at least for extended periods was when she was with Rose or Adrik. "I-I'm still sorry. I-it can't be nice to be mocked for your a-accent, y-you'll get enough of that here. My friend's m-made fun of all the time. H-he hates it." In fact, much of the teasing Adrik had endured had ended with the culprit being thrown out on his ear, sometimes with injuries to boot. Adrik could be vicious when needed. 

"Alexandra!" Isla scrambles to her feet after the brunette, brushing down her jeans and making her way to Sasha's side, internally sighing. Clearly, she wasn't going to win this. "O-ok... Well, they serve lots of, of really lovely things... My favourite's the caramel hot chocolate, but there's coffee, and milkshakey t-type things too.

[bolshoiiballet]

The girl’s concern makes her laugh quietly, but she waves an airy hand in dismissal. “Detail. He will let me stay, he is more my mama than my real mama, and if not, will think of something other. Is no worry.” Sasha is certain that if Adrik won’t let her crash at his apartment, the NYCB will fix something for her. It’s not like they’ll let their new scholarship dancer die on the streets. “Nyet, no call. He will angry at me and I am too tired from plane to deal with grumpy-face now.” Sasha slides her suitcase under the coffee table and stretches gracefully, hoping she doesn’t look too rough after her flight. 

"Alexandra. Udovol’stviye,” She says, offering the girl another bright smile. Sasha shakes her head when Isla reaches for her purse, and lightly touches her hand to stop her. “No. You say drinks, but I pay. Is… my treat.”

[isla-delany]

"If you're sure..." She giggles at the heavily accented 'grumpy-face' despite herself, but claps her hand over her mouth almost immediately. "Oh, um, I-I wasn't laughing at you, I-I swear, I... S-sorry." Her head ducks down a little, her face darkening with embarrassment. Oh God, stupid, stupid, stupid- 

"Alexandra." Isla says the name slowly and respectfully, repeating the syllables exactly how Sasha says them, wanting the other girl to like her. She seems nice and Isla, starting to feel more comfortable around people and generally feeling more comfortable around girls anyway, thinks that it would be nice to make a new friend. It would probably be nice for Alexandra too; she probably didn't know anyone here beside her brother.

In the act of taking out some dollar bills, Isla freezes, feeling skin touch her own and whipping up to see who's touching her. Seeing that it's only Alexandra, she tries to force herself to relax, although her heart's beating hard in her chest. "O-oh, oh no, I-I can't, you only just got here. I should pay."

[bolshoiiballet]

"Not scared of anyone. Should be scared of me," She replies, her eyes twinkling with the foolhardy attitude she had acquired as a child. A good few years of fighting off bullies would do that to a girl. 

She nods, but doesn’t seem particularly bothered by being held up. The girl’s a sweet thing, and chatting to her is preferable to the ear-bashing she’ll no-doubt receive from Adrik. “I visit my brother. He does not know I have come, so he wait until I am ready.” Sasha wrinkles her nose at the alley and looks around for a suitable alternative. Thankfully there are no less than three Starbucks on this street, so she points at the nearest one, “Coffee?”

[isla-delany]

Isla's small smile grows a little, her blue eyes focusing on the other girl with interest. It was amazing, entrancing even, to someone like her to see someone act so carefree and confidently, especially on their own in a foreign country, so young. In her place, Isla would have been well into a meltdown.

"He doesn't know you're here? B-but you don't know i-if you'll be able to stay with h-him, you'll be al-alone in New York!" Isla exclaims, visibly worried and nodding at the suggestion of coffee. Perhaps she can convince the girl to at least call her brother and check he's in town. "Y-you should call him, at least. Come o-on." They make their way down to the Starbucks, Isla shifting her many bags clumsily to make sure they don't tumble again until she's able to sink thankfully into a comfy sofa at the back of the coffee shop. Gathering her things and extracting her purse, she offers the girl another small smile.

"I-I'm Isla, by the way."