The X-Project

Piotr is friendly. Sarah nearly has a panic attack.



Piotr was taking his lunch outside for a change. Too nice of a day to ruin it cooped up inside. Plus, he was half-convinced as a man who grew up on a farm that if he didn't feel real wind on his face and see real sky over his head he'd wilt or something. Plus he'd heard from ... someone ... that there was a new person floating around and maybe he'd run into her.

He propped his sketchbook up in his lap, got a pencil out, but instead of starting to draw he took a healthy bite of his entirely overstuffed hoagie. Roast beef, cheese, horseradish, good greens - the bread was a little sub-par but he thought he could choke it down before he expired of hunger.

Sarah had been reluctant to go outside. Everyone seemed to believe this was a safe place where she would never be found, but she wondered how they could be sure. This massive place wasn't exactly inconspicuous. But after several days of being inside and finding herself turned around in hallways and wearing a path in the carpet from her room to the kitchen, she knew she needed a little sunshine.

On the steps of the house, she realized she had no idea where to go. The lawn was huge, and like the house it seemed to have an endless amount of possibilities for exploring. For someone who grew up in a cramped house, in a cramped neighborhood, it was overwhelming. Maybe she would just walk down the driveway and back. Baby steps.

Piotr was just finishing off his first sandwich when he spotted the nervous-looking woman tip-toeing down one of the driveways. "Hello!" he said with a wave, his Russian accent a touch more prominent than normal. "Are you lost?"

At first the voice startled her out of her thoughts, and then the accent sent her spinning. Were the Russians here? How did they get involved in all this? Shit....Shitshitshit Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she turned to face the direction his voice had come from and warily took a few steps towards him. Enough to bolt if she needed to. He looked too big to be fast.

"I needed some air, and I hoped walking the drive would keep me from getting lost. It's hard to mess up straight out and straight back."

He, of course, had no idea she was a Mafia Princess. She looked lost, he was a naturally helpful sort. "This place is something of a maze." he said with a smile. She looked startled all out of proportion to anything he'd said or done so he resolved to make small gestures. Maybe she'd been assaulted, was afraid of men. Maybe she was just young, frightened of strangers. Who knew? "I'm Peter. What's your name?" he asked.

"Sarah." There were plenty of Sarah's in the world, so surely that was safe. You stayed very far away from the Russians she knew if you knew what was good for you. "I'm not used to all the space here," she gestured her hands around her, "it's a little overwhelming."

"It's nice to meet you, Sarah." he said with another smile. "Are you hungry?" he asked suddenly, on a whim.

As if on cue, her stomach growled. Damn it all, she was going to ignore her better instincts because she was hungry. She just hoped that Sebastian never found out, or he would never let her out of the house again. Pushy bastard. "I am, actually. It's been a long time since breakfast. I was up at some ungodly hour and couldn't sleep."

Piotr nodded. "Well, if you want ... if you want ... I make a pretty good sandwich here." he said, gesticulating towards the aforementioned sandwich, sitting there all alone on its paper plate. "You're welcome to it."

She took another couple of steps forward, still out of reach. They were in full view of the house, and she was sure there were cameras. If this guy was a threat, she thought they would have done something by now. "The question is, what's on that sandwich?"

"Luckily it's a question with a known answer. Roast beef, Cheddar cheese, horseradish, brown mustard, lettuce, tomato - the greens here are a little iffy, but I need to go visit a proper farmer's market - and a lovely rye bread." he said. "Do you want it?" he asked. She was still so skittish - something was starting to twig to him as wrong with this situation here.

"I don't want to take your lunch.." she trailed off. If her father had been here he would have told her to eat the sandwich already, it was rude to keep an offer like that waiting. Or at least to bring the damn sandwich to him so he could eat it instead. He liked roast beef and horseradish. She made a mental note to take him out to lunch when this was all over, and smiled. "Can I split it with you?"

"This was my second sandwich. But sure, I'll split it with you if you'd like." he said, tearing the sandwich in half and then letting her pick which of the roughly equal halves she wanted. Maybe she was just weird about food.

She raised her eyebrows. "This was your second sandwich? This--" she gestured at both halves of the sandwich on the plate, "which is nearly the size of my head, is your afternoon snack? That is both scary and impressive."

"Always had a big appetite." he said blandly. "Keeps a lot to keep this engine going." he said with a wink. But still he waited for her to make a choice before he picked whichever she discarded. He was still kinda hungry and he had a lot of work on his plate for the afternoon.

He definitely didn't act like any Russian she knew. They only dealt with social niceties like winking if they had said something obscene in Russian they knew you wouldn't understand. Usually about someone's looks. Usually her looks. But this wink seemed genuine. She carefully closed the space between them and reached for a sandwich. "This is very kind of you to offer."

"My pleasure." he said, and then took the other half, the one she left on the plate, to take a bite of. "May I ask you a question?" he asker her calmly. before putting his sandwich down to reach for a water bottle. He then took a deep drink from that before re-capping it and setting it down. "Have I done something to offend or frighten you?"

Sarah looked down at her sandwich, "No, I-- I've gotten into some trouble and for a second I thought you might be someone else."

"All right." he said, leaving it at that. If she wanted to talk she'd talk. If not, she wouldn't. Either way would be fine with him. He took another bite of sandwich, chewed and swallowed, then picked up a napkin to dab at his face. "It's pretty good." he said.

She took a bite, not entirely sure how to eat the overstuffed sandwich gracefully, but attempting anyway. She nodded. "It is good! Thank you."

"You are entirely welcome." he said with a smile. "Glad you like it.," He let a few more bites pass in silence before picking back up his end of the conversation. "May I ask about the trouble that brought you here?"

"I got caught up in some Family drama." She took another bite of her sandwich and tried to decide how much to reveal. "The police got involved, and now I am laying low to protect myself and my brother and father."

He did catch that capital F in Family. "I can certainly understand and approve of the desire to protect one's family." he said carefully. "Are you talking about a family as in blood and kin, or family as in a larger group of associated individuals who have banded together?" Watch him dance around asking her if she was la cosa nostra, Sarah!

"Yes," she said simply. She didn't elaborate-- there were some things you didn't talk about with outsiders, at least, not until they needed to know. And Peter, while sweet, didn't need to know. "Hopefully I can go home soon. I miss my father."

"Ah." he said. "No wonder you flinched when I spoke. Well, let me assure you, I'm not with them." he said plainly. "We are not friends, that organization and I. One of them approached me about doing some work for them. I believe I showed him definitely how not interested I was." To the tune of an extended hospital stay and some ... explanations ... about how things were going to work moving forward. And a large angry metal man.

"I started to gather that. Or at least, if you were you were far more subtle about it than most." A few bites of the sandwich sat forgotten in her bone covered hand. "I'm sorry I assumed. I am usually more put together than this."

You're going through a lot right now." he said with a compassionate look. He then glanced down at her hand and spotted the bone. "I also do not wish to be rude, but is it normal for you to be showing exposed bone like that?" he asked curiously. "Or are you in need of medical attention?"

She chuckled, and reached out a hand so he could see. "It's what counts as "normal" for me. It's a great party trick around Halloween."

"So that's a no on medical attention. That's good." he said as he stated at the exterior bones of her hand with fascination. "I would demonstrate my own particular talent but I like these clothes and I don't want to startle you. Perhaps another time?" he offered.

"That's fair. I know a thing or two about unintentionally destroying clothes." She thought for a moment, adding "Can you describe it for me?"

"I can!" he said, and then paused to take a breath. "My body can change between this form and a form of living metal." he said. "When I shift, I grow about a third of a meter, gain a few dozen kilos in muscle, and become very strong and very tough."

"Huh." She tried to picture the change. "So sort of Terminator like?"

He drew a blank at that reference, as American pop culture was a vast thing and he was only familiar with very tiny bits of it. "Umm. I'm not sure." he said as he racked his brain. "What's a Terminator?"

"There was this movie in the 80's where Arnold Schwarzenegger played this assassin that looked like a person but it turns out he's actually this metal cyborg that's only disguised as a person. I mean, not exactly like that, but maybe? That's what I am picturing in my head." If she had her phone she would have shown him pictures, but since she didn't, the poor description would have to suffice.

"That certainly sounds like a thing." he said agreeably. :But I can promise you that I'm not a cyborg. Either all me or all metal. No in-between." he clarified. Then he glanced back down at her bone growths in her hands. "Does it hurt?" he asked softly.

"Of course." She didn't sound annoyed or angry about the question, it just was and she didn't see much good in lying about it. "Sometimes it's like getting a bad paper cut from the inside. Sometimes they aren't sharp and I'm not even sure how to explain that feeling. But I bleed and it hurts. And then because life has a sense of humor, it heals."

"I'm sorry to hear that." he said, and meant it. "Maybe the people here can come up with something to help make that less." he suggested. "You never know."

She shrugged. She was always unsure how to deal with sympathy for something that was just an everyday thing. "I don't know what they would do. You can't make the pain go away unless you stop the bones, and to my knowledge nobody has come up with a--" she struggled to find the right word, "a treatment, I guess, for people like us. Besides, if you were able to stop these bones," she held up her hands in illustration, "how does it affect the bones I actually need? Do I become a jelly person?" She thought about this a lot as a child. She went to so many doctors and specialists back then.

"Beats me. I'm an artist, not a scientist." he said, then chuckled a bit. "But I think we can all agree, jelly people would be bad." he said, and then made a little swaying gesture like he'd just turned into jelly for a moment.

"But hey. It's been lovely sitting here speaking with you but I should really get back inside. More tests." he said with a sigh. "No, that's a lie. I enjoy the tests. Opportunities to make Scott growl in frustration and to lift heavy things. It's kind-of fun."

Sarah smiled and waved her hand. "Go. Exasperating others is one of my favorite pastimes. Next time we'll have to compare notes."

He laughed a bit at that, gathering up his trash carefully. "It's been nice talking to you, Sarah. If you're going to be around for a while, maybe we'll meet again." he said by way of an offer.