Pyotr and Alani - Painting A Surfer
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xp_logsPyotr, as a part of his frenzy of painting to have his art ready for the District X Art Show, has asked Alani to participate in the project. So he paints her like one of his French Pacific Islander surfer girls.
Pyotr arrived at the Danger Room and very carefully loaded up his brand-new program into the computer. The environment shifted into warm sand, crashing water, and overhead, the cries of seabirds. He grimaced as the program was a little warmer than he would have liked, but Alani would probably love it. She seemed enthusiastic when he'd emailed her about the painting and he was fairly sure the final product would turn out well. All he needed for this was his large-format sketchbook, just to get the details and a rough sketch done. He could translate the rough into a finished product on his own and not spend any more of her time than she wanted to give.
However, he did make a mental note for himself. Dress for warmer weather the next time he wanted to use this program. Possibly shorts. And not much else. Wiping sweat away from his brow, he got out his big sketchbook and his pencils and then double-checked to make sure he had everything he was going to need.
"Computer?" he asked in Russian. "Any chance we could get some cold bottled water?" he asked, to no reply. Sighing, he contemplated running out to get some from his suite but he didn't want to miss Alani's arrival.
Alani hadn’t actually spent much time in the Danger Room, definitely not as much as she should have with the time she’d been at the mansion. So walking in to find a very, well, not familiar beach, but a beach in the middle of winter made her almost drop her board. Almost. Instead she turned to Peter with a very excited grin and jogged up to the taller man. “Holy shit! Has this program always been in the system?”
Taking in his dress, she laughed, then felt horrible for laughing and set her surfboard into the sand. “Oh, no, do you wanna put a pause on this before we really start and, uh, change? Not that you have to! If you’d rather wear this, I promise I won’t judge you. It just…seems like the wrong get up, for this.”
Pyotr shrugged in agreement. "You're probably right." he said agreeably, then in one smooth motion gripped the bottom of his shirt and peeled it off his torso, leaving him bare-chested. "That should help some." he said with amusement. "Now then, I've got some ideas for the pose…" he said.
Alani cocked her head to the side slowly, trying to form some word that would be appropriate, but her brain had blue screened. Like she didn’t know everyone at the mansion was hot, but, wow.
Realizing that it had been enough time that it would be rude to just stare dumbly. Nodding, she cleared her throat loudly. “Yeah, I mean, please tell me what you’re thinking. And I’ll do my best.”
Pyotr dropped his shirt by his bag of supplies and walked over to where she stood. "May I?" he said, reaching towards her. "It's easier if I can pose you for what I had in mind, then you can tell me if that's acceptable. Or, if not, we can talk through it. It's your choice." he said simply.
“Okay,” she agreed almost immediately, before she kicked herself mentally. Cracking a Ghost, Patrick Swayze joke was probably the best thing her brain was currently able to do, and that was… weird. Professional, Alani, please. “Yes, and I’ll tell you if it’s something I just can’t do.” She chuckled lightly, doing her best to be as normal as she ever was.
He smiled a bit at that. "Not to worry. Now, plant your feet like this…" he said, and then gently, carefully, helped her adjust her stance and pose so she was facing the water, clutching her board. Her markings, what were exposed to daylight, were clearly visible on what skin she was showing. "I do not wish to be rude or be too forward, but … I'd like to see if we can show your marks more clearly." he said, coloring just a touch. "If you're not comfortable with that I understand perfectly, but if possible…" he said, then let his voice trail off.
Alani did as he instructed, trying to not stiffen up her posture to an inhuman degree. It was probably a silly thing to admit that she’d never thought much of how she looked, but when she’d last done promotional material she hadn’t been nearly as comfortable in her own skin. Trying to subtly shake off any of the jitters, she raised a brow in question. More clearly seemed like it could be a very innocent thing, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t done a number of swimsuit shoots for promotional material. “What’re you thinking? Like I said, I’ll do my best or tell you if I’m uncomfortable. Communication is key.”
"Your suit." he said, resolved to speak plainly because that was what she preferred. "Looks very nice. Suits you. Covers up your marks." he said. "Was hoping you might have some thoughts on how you can stay as modest as you wish and still show marks. For mutant art show." he clarified. Not because he wanted to see more skin. Nope. Not relevant to the situation.
“Oh,” she blinked owlishly for a moment before slowly shrugging. She’d largely grown up on a beach, much like this one, and had grown used to bodies. Though her old competitive surfing suits had always been a touch more modest because of how much time was spent in the water, she hadn’t bothered bringing them with when she’d made the move. “Yeah, uh, okay, right.” Trying to stay as in place as she could, Alani reached up to unzip the front zipper of her top, nothing scandalous, though it did give a view of the markings that had formed at her collar bone and dipped beneath the fabric. “Better?”
"If you are comfortable, I am satisfied." he said, leaving her where he'd posed her. "Unfortunately, this will be boring part." he told her as he set up with the sketchbook and the pencil - and his phone. He took several reference photos for colors and the like, then began to sketch out what the finished painting was going to look like. "You're a Pacific Islander, right?" he asked as he sketched. "Which island?"
“Wouldn’t call being on a beach boring, even if it ain’t really real. Ya don’t get it like this round here.” And the sounds and sun made her much more at home that she’d thought she missed. Humming at his question, she started to shrug before stopping herself. Moving was a no go, she reminded herself and focused on watching him work. “Legally, New Zealand. Got that dual citizenship, baby. Born on the North Island, raised in sunny Hawai’i on O’ahu. But I haven’t been back since I came here.” It was all said very lightly. “And you? Not from an island are you?”
He chuckled at that as he wiped his brow again. Sweat itched in his beard but so far he was able to ignore it. "No, I'm from a farm in Siberia. Near Lake Baikal, if you're familiar." he said. "Miss your family?" he asked softly. "I know I miss mine. Mother and father back on the farm, sister disappeared, brother is gone." he added. "Miss them all fiercely."
“Only that it has freshwater seals,” Alani admitted. People had rarely asked if she missed her family, most people who knew her circumstances had been gentle about the subject when she’s arrived, but it was easier most days to simply think about her planned calls home and how close or far they were. “Oh, every day. We were very close,” she smiled a little but it dropped as she thought about what it would be like to have a brother or sister then not.. “I’m sorry about your siblings. I can’t imagine. Do you get to call home at all?”
"I will tell you secret." he said with a very blatant conspiratorial whisper. "Baikal seals? Are mean bastards. One bit my brother once. Of course, Misha bit it right back…" he mused with amusement. His hands sketched as he talked, taking down the gross outlines before moving in for the finer details. "Parents have Internet now. Is vaguely terrifying. I get so much spam from them." he said with a laugh. "They threaten to make me explain to them what Zoom is. I'm not sure I'm ready for that." he said with another laugh.
“Well, they are wild animals, even if they are cute, and if they had pups? No thank you.” Alani’s grin was much more amused than her words would imply. On the subject of his parents and the ever growing digital experience, she couldn’t stop herself from laughing again. “I’m very glad that I never had to teach my parents any internet things, though they have asked about slang before and I have to choose the lesser of two evils each time. I either tell them or they google it. Mind if I ask you something?”
"Not at all." he said pleasantly as his pencil still worked to capture her otherness, her mutantcy, while also retaining her vitality as a young woman. "What would you like to know?"
If she didn’t have to stay still, she would have loved to watch him work, or at least be a bit of a nuisance. So instead she wanted to know things from his point of view. “So, I’ll preface this with the point that I don’t know much about art or artists, so this is all just curiosity. What made you choose art, painting?”
Pyotr smiled at her question. "Have been interested in art since I was young. I wanted to capture the beauty of the world as I saw it in a more permanent form. For every artist it's probably different. But for me, it's what makes me happy. I look for beauty and I want to share it with the world."
“That’s really nice. I’m glad you were able to follow something you’ve wanted to do since you were a kid. And that makes you happy.” The edges of her lips ticked up, truly happy for him. “I’m really excited to see your pieces, because, well, I love visible mutations and I’m greedy and want other people to love them too.”
Pyotr mused that over. "There's a lot of ugly out there." he said after a moment. "If I can show people the beauty in the mutant, in the different, then maybe I've made the world just a little bit better. Maybe even better than I can by just punching things really hard." he joked.
“I’m pretty sure that’s how it works. The making it a little better through art and normalization, not the punching.” Thinking about that and what some groups did and made some strides forward through, she hummed. “Okay, some punching. Some people like it, and who am I to say they’re wrong?”
"Hey. I like punching." he said with a small laugh. "Just not the weak, the defenseless, or those that disagree with me." he said. "Just the people misusing their power for their own gain, or to the detriment to others. Stand still, please." he said as he frowned at his sketch. He could do better, dammit. Eraser time!
Not punching those that just disagreed with him sounded good, and she almost laughed again, before standing very unsurely. “Shit, sorry, I thought I might have been moving too much just with little things. Should we try another pose or…” She trailed off, because she didn’t want to offer to find him another subject, but she would. “Anything I can do?”
He put his sketchbook and his pencil down for a moment. "Let's get you reset, shall we? The sketch is coming along pretty nicely, shouldn't be too much longer holding still." he said with a smile. "May I?" he asked, pausing before he started helping her adjust her stance to where he wanted her to be.
Alani was no stranger to politeness, she was raised politely, but it did make her roll her eyes a little that he kept asking. In a good way. “Peter, assume that I will let you know if it’s not okay, even if assumptions can be wrong, that’s something you can operate under right now. I’ve seen you crush metal, and be metal. But, I’m not, like, breakable.” She chuckled. “You use me for how to best get your vision across, and I will be putty in your hands. Er, clay. Art.”
Pyotr shrugged to that, then put his hands on her to bend her the way he wanted her to bend, to pose and arrange things to make the best painting he could. His grip was gentle but had a great deal of power in reserve. "There. Do you think you can hold that comfortably?" he asked. He also reached over to brush her hair more to obscure her features, tracing his fingertip from ear to brow. "There. That should do nicely."
Oh. Yes, she’d known he could do that, she was aware of his powers, that he worked out, and that he seemed very fit outside of being metal. But, still, she grinned. Then froze. She hadn’t realized she leaned towards him, that was all on her brain and maybe a little on the fact that she’d learned to keep everyone a little at arms length physically. Straightening up a little, she nodded slightly. “Uh, yes, I can definitely hold this position comfortably.”
"Good." he said, and then mopped his brow with one hand. Boy, it was really warm in here. "After session, should go and get some cold water. Well, I should. You're probably used to this, consider it nothing." he said in a friendly way as he went back to his sketchbook, pencil, and discarded shirt. Shrugging, he used it to mop his face before letting it fall back to the ground. "Now, let's get this to a good place…" he mused as he began to correct his mistakes, to make the initial sketch better.
“Water’s good,” Alani agreed. “Coffee or drinks are also slowly becoming my go to. I’d offer to make you a meal, but I can’t cook.” Which… that was a normal thing to say, right? Probably. Resisting the urge to cover her face, knowing she’d started to color, she cleared her throat and continued. “I believe in you and am sure it’s plenty good.”
"I am, I'm told, pretty damned good." he said blandly. Teasing her was probably dirty pool but they were just having a little fun, killing some time while she stood in one place and he drew. "Have sheet of paper on the wall to prove it." he added. "And really? That's a shame. I cook. I won't pretend I'm gourmet or anything but I do all right." he said. "Mostly food from home, as that's what I miss the most."
Okay, she’d set herself up and wasn’t going to deny that. “Alright, we’ll level it up to ‘pretty damned good,’ because you got that paper.” Alani chuckled again. “Well, if you would like to cook and I get to reap the rewards, I’m glad to take you up on that. I’m very good at it, even.” At this point she was just leaning into… whatever her brain was advising her on. The worst that could happen is she would look like a clown.
Pyotr blinked. Then smiled. "Are you asking if I'll cook a meal for you?" he asked. "Very well, I accept. What do you find acceptable in terms of entree?" he asked her as he continued to sketch and fill out important details. "I mean, if you're very good at eating it only seems fair." he said.
It seemed he had a habit of making Alani’s brain blue screen then reboot. How had that worked, she wanted to ask but silenced that part of her short circuiting brain. “I’ll try anything once. What are you in the mood for? Because I actually haven’t had much Russian food before. Unless vodka counts?” Smooth.
"Kind of you to ask." he said. "And I would be happy to introduce you to good Russian delicacies." he said. "But as you are guest, I feel we should have at least one thing from your culture. So … help?" he said with a smile. "I could guess fish, but there are many kinds of fish. And you do not strike me as a herring or a sardine woman."
Alani sputtered, but stopped herself from jumping to her feet as if to defend her honor. Barely. “You wound me! I could definitely be a sardine or herring, pickled or otherwise, gal. I’m not, but I could be. I was raised on lovely island foods, like Spam and pineapple on pizza.” Which was half-true. “If I can find stuff and you’re poke with raw fish, I can make a poke, for a light appetizer and as proof that I value your friendship.”
Pyotr blinked again. "Forgive me, but English is my second language. What is Spam? And how do you eat email?" he asked. "And I do not know if I am … poke … with raw fish. Korea was not too too far from where I grew up. Got groceries from there sometimes. Things we could not grow." he said. Which explained his sneaky fondness for kimchi.
“Right, so it’s, hmm, Spam is canned pork, salty and most people hate it. They’re wrong, but that’s not the point.” She hummed in thought a little longer as she tried to figure out how to explain poke. “Wait! No! I fucked that up. If you’re okaywith raw fish, I can make poke, which is a raw fish dish from Hawai’i. Thinking about it apparently just took over my thoughts.”
Pyotr made a small noise of understanding. "Unfortunately, I do not know if I am okay with raw fish. I've heard of sushi, but I've never tried it. And sushi is Japanese and you are not." he said. "Not that that should stop you from trying it, if you liked, but I am losing conversation here." he said, pausing to mop his brow again. Damned heat.
Alani watched him with barely contained amusement. “You got me there, I’ll give you that. If you ever find out you like raw fish, I’ll make you some poke, how’s that sound?” Though that did mean she had to think about foods. Which, she was notoriously bad at. “Heat’s getting to you, maybe. I’m thriving, but humidity and sun is my happy place. I’ll think of something and text you? If only so you don’t go sun mad.”
Pyotr nodded. "That sounds reasonable." Then he made a few more marks in his sketchbook. "All right. I think I have what I needed to make painting good and I got it before passing out from too much sun." he said. "I am Siberian, I am built for snow." he admitted with a laugh. "Thank you for agreeing to pose. When painting is done, will show it at art show in District." he promised. "I think I will see if I can find large bath-tub, go soak my head."
Pyotr arrived at the Danger Room and very carefully loaded up his brand-new program into the computer. The environment shifted into warm sand, crashing water, and overhead, the cries of seabirds. He grimaced as the program was a little warmer than he would have liked, but Alani would probably love it. She seemed enthusiastic when he'd emailed her about the painting and he was fairly sure the final product would turn out well. All he needed for this was his large-format sketchbook, just to get the details and a rough sketch done. He could translate the rough into a finished product on his own and not spend any more of her time than she wanted to give.
However, he did make a mental note for himself. Dress for warmer weather the next time he wanted to use this program. Possibly shorts. And not much else. Wiping sweat away from his brow, he got out his big sketchbook and his pencils and then double-checked to make sure he had everything he was going to need.
"Computer?" he asked in Russian. "Any chance we could get some cold bottled water?" he asked, to no reply. Sighing, he contemplated running out to get some from his suite but he didn't want to miss Alani's arrival.
Alani hadn’t actually spent much time in the Danger Room, definitely not as much as she should have with the time she’d been at the mansion. So walking in to find a very, well, not familiar beach, but a beach in the middle of winter made her almost drop her board. Almost. Instead she turned to Peter with a very excited grin and jogged up to the taller man. “Holy shit! Has this program always been in the system?”
Taking in his dress, she laughed, then felt horrible for laughing and set her surfboard into the sand. “Oh, no, do you wanna put a pause on this before we really start and, uh, change? Not that you have to! If you’d rather wear this, I promise I won’t judge you. It just…seems like the wrong get up, for this.”
Pyotr shrugged in agreement. "You're probably right." he said agreeably, then in one smooth motion gripped the bottom of his shirt and peeled it off his torso, leaving him bare-chested. "That should help some." he said with amusement. "Now then, I've got some ideas for the pose…" he said.
Alani cocked her head to the side slowly, trying to form some word that would be appropriate, but her brain had blue screened. Like she didn’t know everyone at the mansion was hot, but, wow.
Realizing that it had been enough time that it would be rude to just stare dumbly. Nodding, she cleared her throat loudly. “Yeah, I mean, please tell me what you’re thinking. And I’ll do my best.”
Pyotr dropped his shirt by his bag of supplies and walked over to where she stood. "May I?" he said, reaching towards her. "It's easier if I can pose you for what I had in mind, then you can tell me if that's acceptable. Or, if not, we can talk through it. It's your choice." he said simply.
“Okay,” she agreed almost immediately, before she kicked herself mentally. Cracking a Ghost, Patrick Swayze joke was probably the best thing her brain was currently able to do, and that was… weird. Professional, Alani, please. “Yes, and I’ll tell you if it’s something I just can’t do.” She chuckled lightly, doing her best to be as normal as she ever was.
He smiled a bit at that. "Not to worry. Now, plant your feet like this…" he said, and then gently, carefully, helped her adjust her stance and pose so she was facing the water, clutching her board. Her markings, what were exposed to daylight, were clearly visible on what skin she was showing. "I do not wish to be rude or be too forward, but … I'd like to see if we can show your marks more clearly." he said, coloring just a touch. "If you're not comfortable with that I understand perfectly, but if possible…" he said, then let his voice trail off.
Alani did as he instructed, trying to not stiffen up her posture to an inhuman degree. It was probably a silly thing to admit that she’d never thought much of how she looked, but when she’d last done promotional material she hadn’t been nearly as comfortable in her own skin. Trying to subtly shake off any of the jitters, she raised a brow in question. More clearly seemed like it could be a very innocent thing, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t done a number of swimsuit shoots for promotional material. “What’re you thinking? Like I said, I’ll do my best or tell you if I’m uncomfortable. Communication is key.”
"Your suit." he said, resolved to speak plainly because that was what she preferred. "Looks very nice. Suits you. Covers up your marks." he said. "Was hoping you might have some thoughts on how you can stay as modest as you wish and still show marks. For mutant art show." he clarified. Not because he wanted to see more skin. Nope. Not relevant to the situation.
“Oh,” she blinked owlishly for a moment before slowly shrugging. She’d largely grown up on a beach, much like this one, and had grown used to bodies. Though her old competitive surfing suits had always been a touch more modest because of how much time was spent in the water, she hadn’t bothered bringing them with when she’d made the move. “Yeah, uh, okay, right.” Trying to stay as in place as she could, Alani reached up to unzip the front zipper of her top, nothing scandalous, though it did give a view of the markings that had formed at her collar bone and dipped beneath the fabric. “Better?”
"If you are comfortable, I am satisfied." he said, leaving her where he'd posed her. "Unfortunately, this will be boring part." he told her as he set up with the sketchbook and the pencil - and his phone. He took several reference photos for colors and the like, then began to sketch out what the finished painting was going to look like. "You're a Pacific Islander, right?" he asked as he sketched. "Which island?"
“Wouldn’t call being on a beach boring, even if it ain’t really real. Ya don’t get it like this round here.” And the sounds and sun made her much more at home that she’d thought she missed. Humming at his question, she started to shrug before stopping herself. Moving was a no go, she reminded herself and focused on watching him work. “Legally, New Zealand. Got that dual citizenship, baby. Born on the North Island, raised in sunny Hawai’i on O’ahu. But I haven’t been back since I came here.” It was all said very lightly. “And you? Not from an island are you?”
He chuckled at that as he wiped his brow again. Sweat itched in his beard but so far he was able to ignore it. "No, I'm from a farm in Siberia. Near Lake Baikal, if you're familiar." he said. "Miss your family?" he asked softly. "I know I miss mine. Mother and father back on the farm, sister disappeared, brother is gone." he added. "Miss them all fiercely."
“Only that it has freshwater seals,” Alani admitted. People had rarely asked if she missed her family, most people who knew her circumstances had been gentle about the subject when she’s arrived, but it was easier most days to simply think about her planned calls home and how close or far they were. “Oh, every day. We were very close,” she smiled a little but it dropped as she thought about what it would be like to have a brother or sister then not.. “I’m sorry about your siblings. I can’t imagine. Do you get to call home at all?”
"I will tell you secret." he said with a very blatant conspiratorial whisper. "Baikal seals? Are mean bastards. One bit my brother once. Of course, Misha bit it right back…" he mused with amusement. His hands sketched as he talked, taking down the gross outlines before moving in for the finer details. "Parents have Internet now. Is vaguely terrifying. I get so much spam from them." he said with a laugh. "They threaten to make me explain to them what Zoom is. I'm not sure I'm ready for that." he said with another laugh.
“Well, they are wild animals, even if they are cute, and if they had pups? No thank you.” Alani’s grin was much more amused than her words would imply. On the subject of his parents and the ever growing digital experience, she couldn’t stop herself from laughing again. “I’m very glad that I never had to teach my parents any internet things, though they have asked about slang before and I have to choose the lesser of two evils each time. I either tell them or they google it. Mind if I ask you something?”
"Not at all." he said pleasantly as his pencil still worked to capture her otherness, her mutantcy, while also retaining her vitality as a young woman. "What would you like to know?"
If she didn’t have to stay still, she would have loved to watch him work, or at least be a bit of a nuisance. So instead she wanted to know things from his point of view. “So, I’ll preface this with the point that I don’t know much about art or artists, so this is all just curiosity. What made you choose art, painting?”
Pyotr smiled at her question. "Have been interested in art since I was young. I wanted to capture the beauty of the world as I saw it in a more permanent form. For every artist it's probably different. But for me, it's what makes me happy. I look for beauty and I want to share it with the world."
“That’s really nice. I’m glad you were able to follow something you’ve wanted to do since you were a kid. And that makes you happy.” The edges of her lips ticked up, truly happy for him. “I’m really excited to see your pieces, because, well, I love visible mutations and I’m greedy and want other people to love them too.”
Pyotr mused that over. "There's a lot of ugly out there." he said after a moment. "If I can show people the beauty in the mutant, in the different, then maybe I've made the world just a little bit better. Maybe even better than I can by just punching things really hard." he joked.
“I’m pretty sure that’s how it works. The making it a little better through art and normalization, not the punching.” Thinking about that and what some groups did and made some strides forward through, she hummed. “Okay, some punching. Some people like it, and who am I to say they’re wrong?”
"Hey. I like punching." he said with a small laugh. "Just not the weak, the defenseless, or those that disagree with me." he said. "Just the people misusing their power for their own gain, or to the detriment to others. Stand still, please." he said as he frowned at his sketch. He could do better, dammit. Eraser time!
Not punching those that just disagreed with him sounded good, and she almost laughed again, before standing very unsurely. “Shit, sorry, I thought I might have been moving too much just with little things. Should we try another pose or…” She trailed off, because she didn’t want to offer to find him another subject, but she would. “Anything I can do?”
He put his sketchbook and his pencil down for a moment. "Let's get you reset, shall we? The sketch is coming along pretty nicely, shouldn't be too much longer holding still." he said with a smile. "May I?" he asked, pausing before he started helping her adjust her stance to where he wanted her to be.
Alani was no stranger to politeness, she was raised politely, but it did make her roll her eyes a little that he kept asking. In a good way. “Peter, assume that I will let you know if it’s not okay, even if assumptions can be wrong, that’s something you can operate under right now. I’ve seen you crush metal, and be metal. But, I’m not, like, breakable.” She chuckled. “You use me for how to best get your vision across, and I will be putty in your hands. Er, clay. Art.”
Pyotr shrugged to that, then put his hands on her to bend her the way he wanted her to bend, to pose and arrange things to make the best painting he could. His grip was gentle but had a great deal of power in reserve. "There. Do you think you can hold that comfortably?" he asked. He also reached over to brush her hair more to obscure her features, tracing his fingertip from ear to brow. "There. That should do nicely."
Oh. Yes, she’d known he could do that, she was aware of his powers, that he worked out, and that he seemed very fit outside of being metal. But, still, she grinned. Then froze. She hadn’t realized she leaned towards him, that was all on her brain and maybe a little on the fact that she’d learned to keep everyone a little at arms length physically. Straightening up a little, she nodded slightly. “Uh, yes, I can definitely hold this position comfortably.”
"Good." he said, and then mopped his brow with one hand. Boy, it was really warm in here. "After session, should go and get some cold water. Well, I should. You're probably used to this, consider it nothing." he said in a friendly way as he went back to his sketchbook, pencil, and discarded shirt. Shrugging, he used it to mop his face before letting it fall back to the ground. "Now, let's get this to a good place…" he mused as he began to correct his mistakes, to make the initial sketch better.
“Water’s good,” Alani agreed. “Coffee or drinks are also slowly becoming my go to. I’d offer to make you a meal, but I can’t cook.” Which… that was a normal thing to say, right? Probably. Resisting the urge to cover her face, knowing she’d started to color, she cleared her throat and continued. “I believe in you and am sure it’s plenty good.”
"I am, I'm told, pretty damned good." he said blandly. Teasing her was probably dirty pool but they were just having a little fun, killing some time while she stood in one place and he drew. "Have sheet of paper on the wall to prove it." he added. "And really? That's a shame. I cook. I won't pretend I'm gourmet or anything but I do all right." he said. "Mostly food from home, as that's what I miss the most."
Okay, she’d set herself up and wasn’t going to deny that. “Alright, we’ll level it up to ‘pretty damned good,’ because you got that paper.” Alani chuckled again. “Well, if you would like to cook and I get to reap the rewards, I’m glad to take you up on that. I’m very good at it, even.” At this point she was just leaning into… whatever her brain was advising her on. The worst that could happen is she would look like a clown.
Pyotr blinked. Then smiled. "Are you asking if I'll cook a meal for you?" he asked. "Very well, I accept. What do you find acceptable in terms of entree?" he asked her as he continued to sketch and fill out important details. "I mean, if you're very good at eating it only seems fair." he said.
It seemed he had a habit of making Alani’s brain blue screen then reboot. How had that worked, she wanted to ask but silenced that part of her short circuiting brain. “I’ll try anything once. What are you in the mood for? Because I actually haven’t had much Russian food before. Unless vodka counts?” Smooth.
"Kind of you to ask." he said. "And I would be happy to introduce you to good Russian delicacies." he said. "But as you are guest, I feel we should have at least one thing from your culture. So … help?" he said with a smile. "I could guess fish, but there are many kinds of fish. And you do not strike me as a herring or a sardine woman."
Alani sputtered, but stopped herself from jumping to her feet as if to defend her honor. Barely. “You wound me! I could definitely be a sardine or herring, pickled or otherwise, gal. I’m not, but I could be. I was raised on lovely island foods, like Spam and pineapple on pizza.” Which was half-true. “If I can find stuff and you’re poke with raw fish, I can make a poke, for a light appetizer and as proof that I value your friendship.”
Pyotr blinked again. "Forgive me, but English is my second language. What is Spam? And how do you eat email?" he asked. "And I do not know if I am … poke … with raw fish. Korea was not too too far from where I grew up. Got groceries from there sometimes. Things we could not grow." he said. Which explained his sneaky fondness for kimchi.
“Right, so it’s, hmm, Spam is canned pork, salty and most people hate it. They’re wrong, but that’s not the point.” She hummed in thought a little longer as she tried to figure out how to explain poke. “Wait! No! I fucked that up. If you’re okaywith raw fish, I can make poke, which is a raw fish dish from Hawai’i. Thinking about it apparently just took over my thoughts.”
Pyotr made a small noise of understanding. "Unfortunately, I do not know if I am okay with raw fish. I've heard of sushi, but I've never tried it. And sushi is Japanese and you are not." he said. "Not that that should stop you from trying it, if you liked, but I am losing conversation here." he said, pausing to mop his brow again. Damned heat.
Alani watched him with barely contained amusement. “You got me there, I’ll give you that. If you ever find out you like raw fish, I’ll make you some poke, how’s that sound?” Though that did mean she had to think about foods. Which, she was notoriously bad at. “Heat’s getting to you, maybe. I’m thriving, but humidity and sun is my happy place. I’ll think of something and text you? If only so you don’t go sun mad.”
Pyotr nodded. "That sounds reasonable." Then he made a few more marks in his sketchbook. "All right. I think I have what I needed to make painting good and I got it before passing out from too much sun." he said. "I am Siberian, I am built for snow." he admitted with a laugh. "Thank you for agreeing to pose. When painting is done, will show it at art show in District." he promised. "I think I will see if I can find large bath-tub, go soak my head."
