Carrie had a lot to answer for. If she’d left the programme be then all Sherrie had to do was suck up her courage, make her way onstage, try not to hit any bum notes then scurry off to the row of seats her family were occupying, waiting for her post-performance blush to die down while she scooped ice cream out of the tiny tubs so miniscule, they were only such an acceptable size in the theatre. Instead, the brunette had to endure a longer wait, her stage fright mounting all the while and ultimately nearly taking off the toes of some poor man after Frankie had decided to go rogue.
The calibre of people who attended performances like this didn’t hint towards anyone overly aggressive, so it wasn’t like Sherrie braced herself to get yelled at. But she had expected a haughty eyeroll or a dirty look or the man over-exaggeratedly brushing down his suit like she’d damaged it in some way. Instead, her ears were filled with the sound of a soothing accent offering kind words and she blinked in surprise.
Lovely girl wasn’t a phrase she was overly acquainted with. Jackson was known for throwing out pet-names to the willing (Sherrie and Ella) and the unwilling (Peyton), but outside of their little friendship group, Sherrie hadn’t found anyone quite so willing to give her a nickname. This wasn’t really a nickname though, because only familiarity bred nicknames, and the words had came from a perfect stranger. The realisation made Sherrie’s blush burn brighter, because what if the man had mistaken her for someone else? That would only bring a whole new wave of awkwardness to the situation, and she watched him carefully for any signs of abject horror when he realised that he was, in fact, conversing with a totally unfamiliar girl who’d just dragged her oxygen tank over his toes.
But then again, how many girls lugged tanks like these around the backstage area of theatres?
Her eyes catching the other man’s, Sherrie pushed a weak smile onto her face. The man looked like the sort of person commonly found in a library. You know, that one guy who seems to have been pulled from a different era and plonked in the middle of a towering stack of books in our modern day world. The kind of guy that sees you struggling to figure out the Dewey Decimal system and gives you a smile that manages to be sympathetic without being patronising, before offering to help you find the biology textbook you were looking for. Sherrie had never had an experience like that, but she did have an imagination that strayed towards more romantic situations. But this wasn’t a romantic situation, she quickly reminded herself. This was Sherrie being clumsy and upsetting an admittedly handsome stranger’s evening.
“You’re sure you’ll be able to walk again?” she joked weakly.
She let out a giggle when he picked up on her embarrassment and then went ahead to acknowledge it. She doubted that he meant his words to be malicious and for some reason, bringing the awkwardness of the moment to light made it seem a little less embarrassing.
“I guess I’m a little embarrassed. It definitely isn’t your fault, Frankie just gets me into all sorts of trouble sometimes,” she compromised with a soft shrug. Encouraged by the man’s smile, Sherrie gestured in the direction of the stage.
“Are you performing tonight? I haven’t seen you before!” She unfolded the sheet of paper with the show’s programme on it that she’d been clutching and scanned the list of names to see if she could pick out any of them that suited the man in front of her. He wasn’t much of a Robin, a David, a Scott or a Jonathan though.
“You’re not… Mose Art, are you?” she asked, spying the only unfamiliar name on the sheet; a pianist, apparently.
“Wow, your parents really saw the opportunity and seized it,” she muttered softly.
A good-natured laugh fell from Vladamir's lips as he stared across at the pretty girl. Vlad had always considered himself exceptionally lucky in that he had a rather confident, outgoing personality. He hadn't ever suffered from any form of social anxiety, and he actually found there was a certain thrill in meeting new people. He enjoyed social interaction, be it with a stranger or a close friend, and he never suffered that same, unsettling recoil at the pit of his stomach at the thought of making a phonecall, or approaching a stranger in public, or spending the day in the company of others. He didn't remotely begrudge those that did experience that ripple of uncertainty, all too aware that it was not within their control, and that he was truly one of the luckier ones. It was that same realisation that meant he always tried his hardest not to further the discomfort of others, so as not to push them further into uncomfortable situations, and spent a great deal of time readjusting to the comfort of others, hoping to give them something of a safety net in whatever capacity that he could.
Even so, he understood that calling the girl's blush to attention, and addressing her visible embarrassment, could potentially work to make her feel even worse. Though not his intention. He'd understand entirely if his words caused any manner of offence. On the contrary, however, she seemed to take his words gracefully, and he wasn't gifted with a horrified glare, or the yell of pretension that he'd often fallen victim to. Vladamir scarcely allowed himself to be offended by such cries, of course, knowing all too well that he often spoke before thinking, and that he wasn't exactly everyone's cup of tea.
Lifting a hand to his face, he tapped his forefinger against his chin as though he were deep in thought. Then, dipping his head to the side to examine the girl, he nodded sincerely. “I believe so, yes. I do not think I will be running any marathons any time too soon, but I think that is more of a reflection on my lack of athleticism.”
Vlad smiled, dropping his hand and listening intently to her words. The sound of her laugh brought a flutter to his chest, one he had grown all too familiar with. Vladamir found himself increasingly endeared by the kindness of others, and often found that the most attractive trait in another person was their joy. Laughter was utterly contagious, and he had a wild tendency to attach himself to complete strangers just upon hearing the sound of their laugh. The first time that he had been graced with Rae's presence, she'd smiled so wide and wrapped him in an embrace so warm that he'd felt as though, had it been scientifically impossible, his chest might explode from the sheer weight of how full his heart had felt.
“Embarrassment is all a part of life. Do not fret, lovely girl. It is only natural and – if it is any consolation – I am not in the least bit offended or disgruntled,” he insisted, hoping that perhaps a little reassurance might go a long way. After all, if her embarrassment had anything to do with having crashed into him, he didn't want her to feel even an iota of humiliation. With a gentle shrug, he added, “In fact; If it had not been for Frankie, here, then I would not be talking to you right now, and there is nothing that delights me more than making new friends.”
As she gestured towards the stage, that space in which they could see various different performers disappearing, he paused. And here, of course, was the catch. Vladamir took no joy in lying, as ironic as it may seem. He understood that within his line of work – if, indeed, you could call it 'work' – he required the ability to withhold information, to lie, and to deceive. It was an 'art' that he'd long since mastered, but it wasn't a fact that he was proud of.
Huffing out a reluctant laugh at her words, he ducked his head as shame trickled down his stomach. That was the problem – while Vlad mightn't feel that same niggle of anxiety that others might, he was often overcome with the guilt and dishonour that came with the lies that he told every single day. Shaking his head, his smile faltering as he stared down at his shoes, he confessed, “Alas, I am not.”
He fretted momentarily, wondering just what excuse he could offer the girl. It wouldn't be difficult for him to lie to her, and he knew fine well that it was in his best interest to do so. He needed to stay exactly where he was if he wanted to gather any necessary intel for Dimitri and Anya, and he knew that there was a great deal to be learned from the Dowager Empress should he be lucky enough to even catch so much as a glimpse of her, but he so desperately hated the idea of lying – even to a girl he'd only just met. There had been countless nights that he'd laid awake, failing to drift off to sleep, as he thought of a time when Katherine would, inevitably, discover the truth about him. The idea of his closest friends – Anya and Dimitri aside – discovering the truth behind his presence in New York, and the lies that he'd been feeding to them all along, plagued him every single day. It was his guilt and he deserved to live with it, but the thought of disappointing those he held dear was quite enough of a burden to carry. He wouldn't lie to this girl too, not entirely, anyway.
“I must confess, I am not a performer. In fact... I should not be here at all.” There was a slight tremble to Vladamir's tone, one that wasn't common for the Russian. He always tried to approach any and all situations with an unbridled optimism, embracing a confidence that he knew plenty of people would be envious of, but he embodied none of that right now. “Truth be told, my dear... I am a big fan of the theatre, but I am not one of the more wealthier inhabitants of this weird and wonderful city. My pockets aren't nearly deep enough to purchase a ticket, and so I thought that, perhaps, I could enjoy the music in peace.”
With a shaky breath, he finally lifted his gaze back upwards to meet hers, his shoulders tense, and a humiliated blush gracing his cheeks.
“If you would rather I make my leave, by all means, I will,” he offered, grimacing. “I do not want to get anybody into any trouble, and I understand that it is a lot to ask, but if we could avoid calling security...”
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