in a strange land

stanislav "stan" sukharnikova || secret service agent || democrat || pawn (secondary blog)

[stansukha-blog]

senator-ross:

There was always something to look forward to at the Halloween party. Mostly, he found it amusing to see grown men and women dress up as if they were kids on Halloween. Sure, he participated and dressed up, though nothing really out there. This year, he was glad he picked something that wasn’t so easy to guess - he did remember that there would be kids at the party, and kids loved magic. So, he hid the stuffed bunny in his top hat to avoid the attention of eager ankle biters.

Alan removed his hat, which was now getting too warm to wear. In doing so, the bunny fell out and rolled to someone’s foot. “My bad,” he apologized and bent down to pick up the stuffed animal. “I suppose he was trying to escape,” he joked, picking up the white bunny and brushing it off. “Just don’t tell the kids. I’d rather not get swamped.” He looked up from the bunny, “Nice costume you’ve got there.”

Marina, Stan’s six year old daughter, poked out from behind his leg at the bunny’s appearance shortly before running off. Stan, balancing a plate of snacks in one hand and a drink in the other, couldn’t help a chuckle at his daughter before he realized the man’s probably all too real predicament.

“I am very sorry,” he said, “but it appears it may be being too late for that. Knowing her, she is about to tell all the other boys and girls about the magician man. She is not good at keeping secrets. Maybe it is that we can go somewhere else. She will not remember for long.”

[stansukha-blog]

Stan : Gru (Despicable Me)

Halloween is the kind of thing that makes Stan intensely uncomfortable - crowds of people talking to each other with no real reason. He used to hide whenever October 31st came around, but now that Marina is older, she wants to participate. True of dozens of other children, she wanted to be a minion, which led to Stan dressing up as Gru so that he could take her trick or treating. He might not care for it still, but spending time with his daughter is one of the things he loves most, so he sucks it up for her sake.

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charlottehuang:

Lateness always set a poor tone for things, but Charlotte couldn’t help it.  Malaya was having a difficult morning and seemed unwilling to let Lauren take her to school, so Charlotte had to do it.  Every little thing delayed her progress, so it was mid-morning before she reached the meeting.  No doubt half of her colleagues wouldn’t notice she was late.  The other half would make sure they never forgot about it.  Such was the way of politics.

Unfortunately, when she reached the door and was stopped by secret service, she sighed in exasperation.  “Really?”  He had to be joking.  “I’m already running late,” she sighed before fumbling through her purse to try and find her ID.

Stan froze slightly - this was the sort of security he hated doing. He was far more comfortable with physical confrontation than telling someone “no” - one of the reasons he hated this duty, especially right now. He knew of the woman in front of him, of course, but rules were rules, right? Still, he shifted on the balls of his feet and swallows uncomfortable.

“I am very sorry, ma’am. I only need to see it and check it off.” A pause, then he continued hesitantly. “I can see if someone on the inside can come get you if you are wanting that instead. Everyone inside is already checked.”

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dommoretti:

For a moment, Domineco couldn’t say anything. He offered Stan a powerful silent agreement as he read the words that the man said. A child that is wanted has a better life. He couldn’t have agreed more. It was something that, really, he’d spent years trying to convince people of. He was appreciative of Stan’s willingness to hear about Dom’s family without sending signals of judgement. There was always the chance that when he told people about his fathers, they would assume that he’d had a skewed childhood or hadn’t been given every opportunity when growing up. In reality, it was the opposite.

“That’s wonderful,” Domineco finally responded, “I love children. They’re precious. It’s good that you already have faith in her ability! That’s one of the most important things about being a father.” Dom nodded, “America is a big place, you’re right. Sometimes I feel lost in it. Or that it is easy to get lost.”

This silence unnerved Stan somewhat - he couldn’t read silence well, and with Americans, silence usually meant something. In Russia, speaking with strangers was not common, but in this conversation, he wasn’t sure what Dom was thinking, and he found himself caring more than usual about exactly that.

“Is nice to hear we agree on these things. I am surprised at many things here, one of them is how many places there are within America. You could spend your entire life here and not ever go to the same place twice it seems like.” The cab was approaching their destination, and somewhat surprisingly felt a twinge of regret. The conversation was definitely...not what he was used to, but at the same time, he didn’t want it to end.

“If you are willing, perhaps it is we can speak again. Maybe could go get some coffee,” Stan said hopefully, risking a quick look over at the other man’s gaze.

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freddiereyes:

Freddie knew she was late (of the really, really unforgivably late variety), and somewhere in the mess of conference rooms on the either side of the hallway was her boss, waiting for Freddie to show up. As always, whenever she was in the wrong, she dealt with it by lifting her chin and striding down the floor like she was a less white version of Miranda Priestly. Wearing sharp pointy heels and a severe formal suit often completed the impression.

She had expected to breeze past the security detail at the mouth of the hallway. The Visitor’s badge slung prominently around her neck spoke for itself. When she all but smacked into the muscled, expressionless blond hitman in a Secret Service outfit, she was more than a little taken aback.

“Oh, blow me,” was her first response, but it was without any rancour. “Here,” she said, thrusting the tote bags of files she’d been carrying at the agent. “Hold these while I look for my ID.”

Glancing curiously at the woman, Stan said nothing at first. He hadn’t met her, but his initial impression of her was that of mild interest. She carried herself with confidence, and Stan had found that people who did that around here generally fell into two camps: those who were faking competence and agency to cover up something and those who were actually highly important. Many high ranking government members, he learned, did not flaunt their position.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, holding the tote bag. He was technically supposed to check it, and he peered inside for a moment, but his instincts told him there was nothing dangerous there. “If you are having a hard time finding it, I can see if anyone inside knows who you are,” he offered after a moment.

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graciewclsh:

She opened her bag to try and dig out her ID, so used to the badge around her neck that marked her as PRESS being an all access pass. She only covering the single conference, giving a break to the producer who would be on it for almost 24 hours. Her wallet was, of course, buried underneath a mess of papers and electronics chargers, unprepared to be asked the question. “Yeah sorry, I just need a moment…”

Taking a second glance at who had stopped her, she couldn’t help but smile- “Wait, Stan right?” There were plenty of things that she wished she could forget about the dinner party that’d made headlines- but the man who’d been willing to walk with her to the bar before everything fell apart? He’d been nice, albeit shy. She’d lost track of everyone in the chaos and ensuing rush to leave the garden, but here he was in front of her once more. “I didn’t know you worked security.”

Stan usually didn’t forget faces - after all, it was a big part of his new career, and he remembered the woman from the party. He had accompanied her to the bar before the whole thing had gone up in metaphorical flames, and he recalled that she had been pleasant. He almost felt bad about having to force her to find her identification, because he felt fairly certain she wasn’t going to harm anyone.

“Yes, it is for cabinet members inside. Very important business, so I am being told.” Stan tilted his head, watching her fish through her bag - he would hardly ever have that problem. Stan was about as spartan as it came when it came to organization, much to the chagrin of his daugther, he was sure.

“Are you here to write a news story?” he asked after a moment, noticing her badge.

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dommoretti:

Domineco shifted in his seat so that he was looking straight-on at the man beside him. He adjusted his suit jacket and tapped his finger against the side of his phone, “I do. Matteo and Kyle. Their friend was my surrogate mother. She carried me, then when I was born, my fathers took over raising me.” Dom explained. He wasn’t sure whether or not they had families like his in Russia, so he was careful to explain the details that may have seemed foreign to Stan. At least Stan was willing to listen. There were several people who dismissed Dom when he explained that he had more than one father. Or, they would ask his favorite question, do you think that affected how you grew up? As though having two loving parents of the same gender was worse than being raised in a traditional household.

“How old is your daughter, if you don’t mind me asking?”  Dom brought his attention back to Stan, setting his phone down in his lap for a moment, as though to give Stan his attention.

Stan nodded. Although the part about having two dads had thrown him off, surrogacy was something he was sort of familiar with. After all, he had a degree in social work, even if he had never actually been a social worker. He also appreciated the fact that Dom was apparently willing to divulge such information, since he knew that he wouldn’t admit much about his own family to anyone, let alone the first time meeting them. “Oh. That is good, then. It sounds like a nice home,” he said finally. “A child that is wanted often has a better life.“ Mostly because the parents had time to prepare, he thought ruefully.

“She is six years old. She is in the first grade now,” Stan said, smiling again and only for the second time. “I am sure that she is going to be very important one day.” His smile grew. “Or at least I like to think so. America is a very big place, I find out a long time ago.”

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kareenasatya:

Kareena Kapoor was most certainly in possession of a type A personality. She was disgustingly organized, prided herself on being up at the crack of dawn, and would sooner die than arrive forty minutes late to a conference– which is exactly what she was about to do. Two of her older sisters had unexpectedly dropped by the previous night, and Kareena’s pleas about having very important work in the morning fell on deaf ears. They didn’t get home until four in the morning, stumbling into Kareena’s apartment and all three of them piling into her queen sized bed. 

Her phone, which had been set to wake her up that morning, had somehow been forgotten inside of the refrigerator. When Kareena finally stirred, she must have set some soft of record for getting dressed an in the car within a minute. She hurriedly walked doors the closed doors, pausing at the security guard’s insistence to see her identification. “Oh–yes, of course.” Hadn’t she pinned her ID on before she left? Kareena ran her hands over her suit jacket, finding nothing and growing alarmed. “Shit.” She dug into her pockets, finding nothing other than keys and her phone. “Shit shit shit.” Kareena continued to mutter. 

“You’re not going to let me in there, are you?” She groaned. 

Stan recognized one of the cabinet members - and he wished that she really did have her identification, because he hated having to actually confront the people here. It wasn’t that he couldn’t, but he didn’t like the way some people blamed him for having to uphold the rules. Some had even levelled certain words and phrases at him, mostly aimed at his immigrant status. Didn’t they know that to even be a secret service agent, one had to be a citizen?

He said nothing as she seemed to grow more and more panicked. He tried to look elsewhere, as he didn’t want to further embarrass her.

“It is against the rules,” Stan said after a moment. He swallowed, then started again. “It is to secure the safety of those in attendance. I am sure you are understanding of the circumstances.” He fidgeted. “Do you know anyone on the inside who would be able to come and get you? That would be permitted.”

[stansukha-blog]

Stan stood at attention. Currently, there was some sort of high level series of international conferences going on behind the doors which he stood guard of. He had caught snippets of conversations about certain officials, but as always, he pretended to be as much a part of the room as anything else. If he was needed, he’d be informed, and until he was, his job was only to observe for potential threats, so he stood, arms folded in front of him and paying attention to every detail.

By this point in the day, he was more or less familiar with the attendees who had shown up already, and although he had to confirm their entries and exits by checking their credentials, Stan knew who was attending the meeting. When a new face showed up that Stan knew hadn’t been there this morning, he stepped to the side, in front of the door, and held up his hand as the new person approached.

“I am very sorry, but I am needing to see your identification before you can go inside.”

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dommoretti:

As a smile graced the edges of Stan’s lips, Dom grinned. He was, at least, able to shave away the awkward initial contact. He knew how off-putting it could be, trying to process a conversation that wasn’t purely face-to-face, “I don’t know if scary would suit you. I like the ruggedly attractive look.” The phone dictated. Maybe he should have laid off of the flirting… but then, Dom handled most things in life through flattery and flirtation.

“My fathers both live in New York. I’m from a small town. One of my fathers is a teacher, and the other runs a bakery. How about you? Does your family live here?”    

“You are very kind to be saying such things,” Stan said, but he was beet red. He was not experienced with flirtation at all, and although he found Dom attractive, his nerves were getting the better of him. He wasn’t sure how to respond or what would be appropriate to someone whom he’d just met.

Family, however...was also a complicated topic, actually, but Stan could deal with the facts better than flirting. Plus, Dom’s mention of multiple dads perked his curiosity. In Russia, Stan hadn’t know many LGBT people at all. It was dangerous to label oneself as such. “I...I do not have family here. I have only my daughter Marina.” He paused, intending to let it rest, but his curiosity got the better of him. “You have more than one father?”

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dommoretti:

“It helps me hear,” the device explained. Dom paused for a moment. He let the man finish his thoughts. Dom was a piece of work, he knew this. It was difficult, communicating someone who lacked so much within their communication skills. He was often misunderstood because of the disconnect between what he meant and the cold emptiness that his words took on when they came from the phone speaker. As Stan finished speaking, he smiled.

“Secret Service? I thought secret service men were supposed to be bulky and scary, not attractive.” He was sure the words seemed tasteless coming from the phone app; he needed a way to lighten the conversation, to draw the man in without losing him because of the unique medium of talking, “you protect people. Your job is more important than mine.”  

Stan nodded, although he had no idea how one worked and what it really did. He wasn’t going to ask for more information despite his burgeoning curiosity; he already felt like he was making himself look like an idiot. The taxi ride felt slightly uncomfortable, and Stan knew the other man was trying his best to be gracious and make conversation, ironically enough. It made him want to leave the car before he messed things up.

“I - what?” Stan looked over. He hadn’t expected the compliment, and as soon as it registered, he blushed and looked down at his shoes, but not before a small smile touched his lips. It took a moment of recovery before he looked up again. “I do very poor job of looking scary? I will have to try harder tomorrow,” he joked, hesitating but still responding. Another moment, a shrug. “I think it is possible to agree on both jobs being important, no?”

Dom was trying hard to continue the conversation. it was only fair that Stan put effort as well...well, that, and the fact apparently he was attractive. “Do you have family here?”

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dommoretti:

“It’s nice to meet you,” the phone recited for him. Dom’s fingers flew over the screen of the phone as he rapidly typed out to Stan, “Where are you from?” He noticed the way Stan’s lips curled differently around words. The way they hesitated over vowels and skipped ever so slightly. He tilted his head to the side, smiling softly, “I’m a Liaison for the white house. I interpret speeches and such for American Sign Language. I’m Deaf. I can hear partially thanks to the cochlear implant, but reading lips is my preferred method of listening and understanding.” Dom could faintly hear how robotic and stiff the voice on the phone sounded. He continued to pour kindness into his expression as he spoke with the man, pushing himself to make it seem as though he was not as empty as the phone’s voice.

“What about you?” he asked, his fingers finally pausing over the screen as he waited for a response from the man.

“I am from Russia I am American now, though,” Stan said, meeting Dom’s eyes. He listened carefully to the phone’s words, and to his frustration he found it weirdly difficult to follow. Social cues were difficult, but Stan had become accustomed to following these to clue him in on words he didn’t necessarily know, and there was a disconnect between the man’s admittedly handsome face and the words. “I do not know what is coke-lee-ar implant,” he admitted after a bit. “Is that something to help you hear then?” Deaf people were an insular community in Russia, and Stan had simply never experienced many deaf or partially deaf people during his years in the U.S.

“I work for Secret Service. Is not as important job as yours, but I am good at it.” Okay, maybe not. Stan thought back to the recent dinner. “Or at least I used to think so. This is a busy place.”

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dommoretti:

As the man turned to face him, Dom smiled. It helped, at least, if the person at the receiving end of his artificial voice knew that his intentions were kindhearted. His fathers used to say that he spoke with kindness. He’d been the poster child for happiness. Raised between the shelves of bakeries by his two fathers and his surrogate mother, it’d been a picture worth framing. Now, here he was, soaking wet from the rain and begging a stranger to let him share a cab. Now, he was more like the poster man for worst case scenarios.

He watched the man’s lips carefully, barely able to make out the man’s words through the rain. He nodded, climbing into the cab. Once the man was in the cab with him, he turned to him, pulling his phone back out, “My name is Dom,” the phone read out, “Thank you.”

Once again the man let his phone do the talking for him, at which Stan squinted. Why would he do that if he was perfectly capable of...oh. A guess formed in his head, but he was too shy to ask in the case he was wrong. In the meantime, Stan decided he’d do what he’d observed his American colleagues doing when they were unsure - just pretend they actually knew what they were doing.

“Is good to know you, Dom. I am called Stan.” Was he supposed to look at the phone or at his companion? He wasn’t sure where he was speaking to. Was there anything even to speak about? He tapped his fingers along his knee. “You are going to White House too?” Stan asked, even though he already knew the answer. Americans seemed uncomfortable with silence, Stan had noticed, and even though Dom spoke through his phone, he wondered if he wasn’t the same way.

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dommoretti:

Domineco refused to take a Taxi to work. Taxis were his worst nightmare. Before getting into one, he had to make sure that he typed his destination into his phone so that his text to voice app could tell the driver where he needed to go. Then; however, the driver would want to ask why Dom had to type his words into an app, but if the driver wasn’t facing Dom, he wouldn’t be able to respond to the man. Then, any driver with common sense would realize that Domineco was deaf. They would look at him in the rearview mirror with pity.

So, since he refused to take a taxi, he had to walk three miles each day to work. This particular morning, he was running late. He didn’t have time to walk to work, and it was raining, on top of everything else. He sighed as he walked to the curb and stepped up to a pedestrian who had waved a cab down. Quickly, he grabbed his phone and typed out “Can I ride with you?” He watched as the person registered that he was communicating with them through the robotic voice of a phone.

Usually, Stan didn’t take a cab. Weather didn’t bother him, and he had certainly performed his duties in much worse: howling blizzards that rubbed his nose raw were nothing compared to the rain that poured now.

Not that it made him feel much better.

Work had been crazy since the incident at the party, with meetings, briefings, and overtime for the Secret Service agents all aplenty. Stan hadn’t been home much, and he’d had to pay his sitter for extra shifts he really didn’t have the money for until next week. In addition, Marina had fallen ill, and Stan had stayed up until 2 am tending to her fever. It had finally broke, and she was on the upward mend, but Stan was already exhausted, late, and he hadn’t even stepped foot into work yet.

To be honest, he hadn’t noticed the man step up next to him. Rain dripped from his nose as he looked over, the robotic words registering a moment late. Stan furrowed his eyebrows, looking at his would-be companion, a man he’d seen around the White House but had never talked to.

“Is fine,” he said. A pause, and then Stan gestured to the cab. “Split taxi fee?

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graciewclsh:

“Don’t apologize.” She waved away the ‘sorry’s as though they were pests, unable to accept them for another person’s actions. He couldn’t control people’s behavior any more than she could, it was only a bonus that this man happened to be sitting at the bar. “Gosh, don’t apologize it’s not your fault.”

She listened to his offer carefully, or as carefully as one could without trying to seem like they were patiently waiting to be left alone. There was the question of needing a drink at all, but she figured as long as there was someone standing next to her that looked intimidating then she was far closer to safety- he was right about that.  Really the only thing she was curious about was why he had offered at all, considering she’d never even seen him before. “As long as you promise I’m not taking up your time.” She finally said as way of accepting his offer. “I’m Gracie. You should probably know my name, just in case.”

Stan’s shoulders sagged in relief. He apologized too much, he had been told, and he reminded himself to stop - it was probably irritating. He didn’t want to ruin anyone’s night at the party, especially since he wasn’t really supposed to be interacting with anyone anyway. He was supposed to be on the lookout for any trouble, those had been his frustratingly vague instructions. He suspected he was mostly being given something to do while the senior agents had specific tasks.

“You are not,” he said quietly, looking over at the bar. It was close enough to his post. No one would notice him gone for a few moments. “I am Agent Sukharnikova.” He paused. “Or Stan. Is easier for English talking.” He gestured for her to accompany him and he began to walk in the direction, steps measured.

“Are you enjoying the party?” he asked after a moment, curiosity getting the better of him. “I have heard there are a very many important people here.”

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charlottehuang:

Charlotte straightened up and flashed the secret service agent a smile.  The last thing she wanted was for people to think she was drunk.  One little misstep could taint an image very easily.  Charlotte was well aware of that.  “I do,” she agreed.  “Though most of the parties I attend are actually work functions.  Everyone claims that this isn’t a work party but I’m still not really buying it.”  Trying to take politicians away from their job was perhaps the most difficult thing she could imagine.  It would be some sort of miracle if everyone succeeded in keeping things casual all evening.

“It’s been quite awhile since we’ve had an officially not work party for most of D.C. though.  President Wright has spared no expense.  I hope you get to enjoy yourself and don’t have to work all night,” she said.  Given she had her whole secret service detail somewhere, she knew the type.

“What are you meaning?” Stan asked after a moment, confused a little by her turn of phrase. “I do not see anything available to purchase.” Idioms and double meanings still confused him to this day. He had had enough English to become naturalized and pass college, but the nuances of English continued to escape him, and he had given up on phrases and sayings long ago. He didn’t feel like she would mind clarifying, though. She seemed friendly so far, and she was talking to him even when some people seemed to treat him as little more than a glorified thug at times.

“It is not party to celebrate my work. Is for Madam President and the rest of the politicians like you.” He paused. “Is good for you to have fun. America is a good place. It must be much work trying to maintain it,” he offered. Honestly, his idea of a night off was being able to be with his daughter, and he thought with a pang of sadness she’d love to be at the party. Marina would love all the designer dresses and snacks being paraded about.

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graciewclsh:

“Oh-” She was taken aback by his honesty in that moment, most people either leaving out the unpleasant addition or else overexaggerating. But he’d managed to fall right in the middle, just telling her about the possible unwanted attention because it was the good thing to do, the right thing if she wanted to be dramatic. She weighed her options, hopefully not at the expense of the man’s time. “I guess I’ll be waiting until he leaves. Don’t want to start the party off by dealing with that.”

“Thanks for the tip.” She gave him a smile, the only way she knew how to prove that she was sincere in her gratitude. And while he’d no doubt find her peppering of questions as somewhat inconvenient, she figured she might as well try. “You don’t happen to know a different place do you?

Stan stood there awkwardly, practically watching the gears through her head. He couldn’t do anything about the man at the bar, but he would’ve felt rotten had he let her go there and be hit on by the man. It didn’t matter who he was, Stan thought, he had no right to go around making people uncomfortable. “I am sorry. If it was my choice, he would not be permitted to do such things.” He shifted on the balls of his feet. “I am sorry,” he repeated, and he really was.

When she stuck around for a moment, Stan watched her. He was half cautious, half curious. “I do not know of such places, but...if you are not minding, I can go with you if you would like that. I do not think you would be bothered if he believed you are my guest.” It was an offer, nothing more. Stan lacked the capacity to dance around things, and he hoped that she wouldn’t be offended somehow. He’d been known to say the wrong thing sometimes by accident.