lady divine

“He is grown now, yes? You can do anything you want now. You could go to New York, even, or Chicago?” Mikhail paused, hoping he hadn’t mispronounced it. “I have heard of Chicago from one of the men who drinks at the bar. He is saying that it is cold and windy, but that it has good food.”

His smile quirked at the abrupt change in her tone - what had he said wrong? It had to have been something he said, but he wasn’t sure what. “Maybe I not use the right word,” he admitted. “I do not mean to make you uncomfortable. I just mean they do not…they do not assume things about me only because of where I am from.”

“Well, yes, he’s a young man now, but...” Margaret faltered, and abruptly shook her head as though to restore her natural fluidity of speech. “But I can’t be seen to be abandoning my only family. Besides - how would Los Angeles cope without me? My parties would most certainly be missed,” she said with a tinkling laugh.

She raised a brow. “My dear, everyone assumes things about everybody else, no matter how close they are. The faster you learn that, the faster you’ll start to fit in in America,” Margaret told him, a somewhat superior smile lifting her lips.

vincent-grise

“You know, I think it softens things, makes everything pretty again.”

“For a few hours, perhaps. Grey slush is hardly what I’d call pretty.”

#vincent

“New York? I see pictures of it in magazines and some books. You go there? What is it really like?” It was perhaps the second expression of genuine excitement and curiosity he’d displayed so far - after all, New York had been sold to him as the ultimate expression of the American dream.

The exuberance faded, though, when she mentioned siblings, along with his job. “Bartender is fine. I do not believe that they will come over ever,” he said, and tried to renew his smile regardless. He didn’t want someone like Ms. palmer seeing him as mopey. “Besides, I like the men there. They fight in war like me. They see me as comrade first and not as Russian.”

For the first time in the conversation, Margaret faltered. Her smile faded for a moment before her training kicked in and the expression returned, although more strained this time. “Well... not personally. But I have friends there. And a woman like me always knows where the best places in society are. Plus, I had little time for travel when Russell was young,” she replied, managing some kind of recovery with the addition of her nephew.

“Oh? How... wonderful for you,” Margaret said, the lack of sincerity clear in her tone. “I suppose that must be quite a change, being seen as a... comrade,” Her mouth twisted around the word. “Although personally, I’m not sure which is preferable.”

“Oh.” Mikhail was familiar with the concept of property and land ownership, of course, but for years, true ownership of anything had been beyond his wildest dreams. He wasn’t sure how to respond without offending, and even though he was genuinely impressed that she had owned and sold a house, he figured it was safer not to comment.

“I very much am.” He smiled, or at least tried to. “I only wish I could bring - brought my family here. My brother and sister would like it here, I think. Except it is very warm. It is warm even now when it is winter. I am not sure if I like the warm weather. Do you?”

#mikhail #[ god i know i'm sorry #she's loving it haha! ]

Margaret supposed her explanation was beyond him once again, and her smile became a little strained at his brief response - most people at least inquired as to whether she’d made a profit. For one moment, her gaze become unfocused as she considered the view that perhaps money wasn’t important to him: but the glint in her pale eyes returned as she realised that of course it was. He’d come to America for a reason, after all.

“Of course I love the warm weather - if I didn’t, I’d move to New York. Wonderful society there. But I could never leave the city. It’s my home,” she replied, with a tone close to sentimentality. “And of course, if your siblings were to come... well, you’d have to get a better job, yes? You can hardly support them as a bartender.”

vincent-grise

“It is almost Christmas, and the lack of snow still throws me off.”

“Ugh, hardly. Snow is so irritating. I feel like the whole city grinds to a stop just to look at a few white flakes.”

#vincent

“First class? That is…” Mikhail knew he knew what it meant, but the meaning wasn’t coming to mind quickly. He ran through the list of English phrases in his head, hoping that ‘first class’ meant something similar to ‘first rate,’ which meant “good,” right?

“That is good. But you say used to? You do not go there anymore?” Mikhail thought that if he had a house to get away from the city, he would at least certainly consider doing so some of the time. When he responded, it was to her words her tone going completely over his head. “In…in past, it is not awful. Not best, but not awful. After fighting, it is a land of little. In America, there is much, even if…” He paused, hesitated as though he was afraid to finish it.

“The house belonged to my parents. I sold it not long after they died,” Margaret replied quickly. The subject was not one on which she wanted to linger for very long, especially with someone who wouldn’t even understand the subtleties of her reasons for the sale.

Her eyebrows pulled together slightly, betraying the confusion in her mind as she tried to make sense of his jumpy, apparently uncomfortable words. In any case, Mikhail seemed to have confirmed her suspicions over what Russia was really like. “I can only imagine how awful it must have been for you,” she replied in her best sympathetic tone, her eyes appropriately downcast. “But yes, America is the land of plenty. Don’t you feel so grateful to be here?” Margaret asked, having focused in on the only good point in his words.

Mikhail tried not to stare too blankly as she spoke, instead nodding unconvincingly as if he knew what she meant. When she clarified, though, it clicked for him, and Mikhail looked relieved. “Oh. I like to learn English, but it is very hard by just myself.Sometimes the only time I know if I speak wrong is when people laugh,” he admitted. “Arizona? That is near here?” Mikhail knew he was in California and that there were other states, but he found remembering all fifty of them a pain. “Much is better here than Russia. You not like Russia. Don’t have chance to…to be successful like you. There, you are the same as your neighbor even if you do not like it.”

“I suppose... it depends on what you call near,” Margaret replied with a knowing smile. “We used to take the train. First class, of course, so at least it was comfortable,” she added, her eyes drifting slightly out of focus as she recalled the memories. And then pushed them quickly away. She replaced her expression with the closest she could get to sympathetic, her head cocked to one side and a pout on her lips. “Russia sounds awful, as I thought. I’d hate to be the same as my neighbours. You must prefer it here, yes? Even a man like you could make something of himself,” Margaret said, a hint of skepticism in her voice.

She kept using large words, and Mikhail struggled to keep up. There was a moment of silence as he processed her words and translated his own in his head. “I…ah, thank you. I not meet many other Russians here.” His eyebrows furrowed as he couldn’t decipher what she said next, though. “What is this elo-cushion which you speak of? It is not sounding pleasant.” He tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, though, since she was being so nice to him. “Have you ever…ever leave - no, left,” he corrected himself, “here before? See what is outside?”

She let out a loud, tinkling laugh. “Elocution, my dear. It is when one studies to improve pronunciation and enunciation,” Margaret paused, an eyebrow raised, and her smile dropped. “It teaches you to speak clearly,” she said flatly. She realised he would struggle to understand her proper speech - but it bothered her to simplify it. “And yes, of course! We had a vacation home on a ranch in Arizona. And I’ve been to parties all around California. Better than going to Russia, I think?”

thisisntcxntrol-blog

everyone its my bday and im 18 v excite!!

Happy birthday! Have a fab day! <333

#ooc

Mikhail observed her carefully, unable to hide his slight surprise at her still polite reaction. “It is pleasure to know you as well, Mrs. Palmer.” He tried to smile, although it turned quickly into a grimace at her remark as comprehension washed over him. “No. I move to America because I hear America is not like Russia. If it - if I were able to change name, I would. Accent first, although.” He smiled and wished he could converse in Russian, though. He wouldn’t feel as self conscious as he did in front of Mrs. Palmer, who was the picture of success. “You are from here then? Los An-gel-es?”

The corners of her mouth dropped slightly at his hesitant pronunciation, but Margaret otherwise maintained her perfect posture and appearance. She raised an eyebrow. “Then perhaps you are a particularly intelligent Russian, Mr Glazkov,” she replied with a brief smile. “I can give you the name of my old elocution coach, if you wish,” she added, her smile growing as she realised how unlikely he was to even know what one was. “And yes. The Palmers are a very old Los Angeles family. Older than most you’ll come across.”

Mikhail froze slightly and licked his lips in nervousness. His accent and clipped English were more than enough indication of his Russian nationality, but his name was the final nail in the coffin. He felt certain she would want to stop speaking to him after this. “I am called Mikhail Glazkov, ma’am,” he said simply, waiting for the hammer to drop.

Of course, a woman as shrewd as Margaret was could hardly fail to notice the otherness of the man before her, but she kept her proper, dazzling smile on her lips for the sake of appearances. And in any case, anyone who complimented her so genuinely was worth something. “Mr... Glazkov,” she repeated, pausing over the name and raising one eyebrow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Although one should be careful with a Russian name, you know. Some would assume Russian values go along with it.”

“Yes, I see one of his films one time. I did enjoy what I could understand.” Mikhail didn’t mention that being around so many people had gotten overwhelming, and he’d left halfway through. “You raise him as a child, then? You must be a good woman because he is now very successful, Ms. Palmer.”

“Yes, he’s rather talented. Always has been,” Margaret replied with a smile - an expression that only grew with the compliment he bestowed upon her, his eyes bright. “And aren’t you sweet? Thank you very much, I’m very proud of what he’s become. And I don’t believe I know your name, Mr...?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

thomaswinters

“Lady, you look nice and I don’t want to be rude, but what are you doing here?”

“Why do I have trouble believing that you don’t mean to be rude? ‘Ms Palmer’ is more appropriate than ‘lady’. And doesn’t everyone make a big fuss over this being a free country? I believe I can go where I wish.”

#thomas

“Like Russell Palmer? The film actor?” Mikhail felt stupid for asking, but there was a lot in Los Angeles he had yet to become familiar with. “You say that you know him, then?”

She smiled delightedly at his reply. “Oh, you’ve heard of him? How wonderful. Yes, he’s my dear nephew. Although his parents died when he was very young, so I’ve raised him.” Margaret looked incredibly proud of this fact.