CLOOOSING TIIIIME.
The place is dark, dirty. As soon as he enters the building and makes his way down the stairs to the bar he's got eyes on him. It isn't anything new, these people have been staring at him like this for years now. Sort of like asking what the hell he was doing in their place. Sighing to himself as he sees the man who called him there up at the bar, he heads over and takes a seat on the stool next to him. "I don't see why we come here every time. This isn't exactly where you'd expect to find a school teacher."
"Is seedy, but is only place that not kick me out. Besides, you are not only known as teacher, Dis. I know better, bar know better. Underground know better." Nikolais flashes a sharp grin at him, knocking his drink back easy. Dismas can only wince as he watches, rubbing at his own throat. Russians might as well have had vodka in their veins, with how often he sees Nik pretty much chug it.
Might as well get straight to business. "There was something you wanted to talk about?"
"Da. Kid's been--ah wait. Ale, Reyes. On my tab--Kid's acting funky lately. Don't know what problem is. Mitya never act like this at his age." Dis, as he always has, ignores the Russian's inability to command the English language properly. Nodding in thanks to the portly Cuban behind the bar when he sets down his pint, he rests his elbows on the counter and takes a brief drink, while Nik takes a swig directly from his vodka bottle.
"Your brother has always been rather reserved. He's very different from Nii in that regard. He's quiet, but he doesn't normally keep things to himself like Dmitri." Nik lets out a grunt of agreement, setting the newly empty bottle aside. Reyes immediately takes it away and replaces it with a different one. Dis gives them an amused look over his glass. "Cris has made him open up a lot more, though."
Grinning, Nik pops off the cap to his bottle, ignoring it as it flies elsewhere. The blond next to him ducks as it bounces off he wall and right at him. His eye would heal after a while, but better safe than sorry. "I appreciate what he done for my brother. He is part of family now. Hell, Mitya would do anything for Cris even if he not. Completely, eh, infatuated."
With a laugh, Dis takes a quick swig of his beer and shakes his head at the amusement in Nik's voice. To be honest, he might as well have been talking about his relationship with Syon. He wouldn't say anything, though. Couldn't, really. He's in the same boat. "So what's Nii been doing?"
Nik opens his arms wide in a shrug, wider than necessary, and ends up knocking down a glass belonging to another patron of the bar that's sitting beside him (and, technically, behind him as he faces Dis). He turns when he hears the other man curse, louder than necessary, and grins. "Sorry," he says in Russian, and Dis doesn't think it's a very good idea.
Sorry sounds like prostitute to the untrained ear.
The man--no, boy, in Dis' eyes, and perhaps even Nik's--looks so insulted and flustered that he grabs Nik's vodka bottle and smashes it on the bar top, brandishing his makeshift weapon at him. "What the hell did you call me!?" Both of them decide that this kid is the violence first, ask questions later type. Were it any other situation, Nikolais might have appreciated that quality. Seeing as it wasn't, he looks surprised.
And annoyed.
"Fuck!" he shouts, shaking the vodka off his hand but not standing yet. "Waste of good drink! What is problem?"
The kid must not realize the amount of size Nik has on him. Dis will admit he is probably a little shorter than him, maybe almost as tall as, but Nik has them both bested by a couple inches, probably half a foot for the kid. And he knows that Nik weighs at least a hundred pounds more than he does. The boy's lean, but looks fresh out of his teenage years. That means there's more than a hundred pounds difference between them, and Nik has more experience in fighting.
Well, even if he was a 50-year-old man, Nik would still have more experience. That's just who he is.
His challenger brandishes the broken bottle, swiping it as though he were trying to swing a bat one-handed. Dis wants to put his face in his hands at his stupidity, but Nik is reminded of himself when he was his age and waits semi-patiently. "Take it back, asshole!"
Sighing, Dis takes a drink from his pint again. "Go easy on him, Nikolais."
"No one learn lesson when person go easy on them. Must make sure they remember for life. That is what you teach in schools, da? Life lessons?" Nik grins at him, then turns and simply stands up from the stool. The boy is either an idiot like Nik, or too drunk to realize he's screwed. Dis likes to think it's the second; 447 years later and he's decided that every generation definitely gets a little stupider than the last.
"Beside..." He glances up when Nik starts speaking again. "no one waste vodka on my watch."
"Is seedy, but is only place that not kick me out. Besides, you are not only known as teacher, Dis. I know better, bar know better. Underground know better." Nikolais flashes a sharp grin at him, knocking his drink back easy. Dismas can only wince as he watches, rubbing at his own throat. Russians might as well have had vodka in their veins, with how often he sees Nik pretty much chug it.
Might as well get straight to business. "There was something you wanted to talk about?"
"Da. Kid's been--ah wait. Ale, Reyes. On my tab--Kid's acting funky lately. Don't know what problem is. Mitya never act like this at his age." Dis, as he always has, ignores the Russian's inability to command the English language properly. Nodding in thanks to the portly Cuban behind the bar when he sets down his pint, he rests his elbows on the counter and takes a brief drink, while Nik takes a swig directly from his vodka bottle.
"Your brother has always been rather reserved. He's very different from Nii in that regard. He's quiet, but he doesn't normally keep things to himself like Dmitri." Nik lets out a grunt of agreement, setting the newly empty bottle aside. Reyes immediately takes it away and replaces it with a different one. Dis gives them an amused look over his glass. "Cris has made him open up a lot more, though."
Grinning, Nik pops off the cap to his bottle, ignoring it as it flies elsewhere. The blond next to him ducks as it bounces off he wall and right at him. His eye would heal after a while, but better safe than sorry. "I appreciate what he done for my brother. He is part of family now. Hell, Mitya would do anything for Cris even if he not. Completely, eh, infatuated."
With a laugh, Dis takes a quick swig of his beer and shakes his head at the amusement in Nik's voice. To be honest, he might as well have been talking about his relationship with Syon. He wouldn't say anything, though. Couldn't, really. He's in the same boat. "So what's Nii been doing?"
Nik opens his arms wide in a shrug, wider than necessary, and ends up knocking down a glass belonging to another patron of the bar that's sitting beside him (and, technically, behind him as he faces Dis). He turns when he hears the other man curse, louder than necessary, and grins. "Sorry," he says in Russian, and Dis doesn't think it's a very good idea.
Sorry sounds like prostitute to the untrained ear.
The man--no, boy, in Dis' eyes, and perhaps even Nik's--looks so insulted and flustered that he grabs Nik's vodka bottle and smashes it on the bar top, brandishing his makeshift weapon at him. "What the hell did you call me!?" Both of them decide that this kid is the violence first, ask questions later type. Were it any other situation, Nikolais might have appreciated that quality. Seeing as it wasn't, he looks surprised.
And annoyed.
"Fuck!" he shouts, shaking the vodka off his hand but not standing yet. "Waste of good drink! What is problem?"
The kid must not realize the amount of size Nik has on him. Dis will admit he is probably a little shorter than him, maybe almost as tall as, but Nik has them both bested by a couple inches, probably half a foot for the kid. And he knows that Nik weighs at least a hundred pounds more than he does. The boy's lean, but looks fresh out of his teenage years. That means there's more than a hundred pounds difference between them, and Nik has more experience in fighting.
Well, even if he was a 50-year-old man, Nik would still have more experience. That's just who he is.
His challenger brandishes the broken bottle, swiping it as though he were trying to swing a bat one-handed. Dis wants to put his face in his hands at his stupidity, but Nik is reminded of himself when he was his age and waits semi-patiently. "Take it back, asshole!"
Sighing, Dis takes a drink from his pint again. "Go easy on him, Nikolais."
"No one learn lesson when person go easy on them. Must make sure they remember for life. That is what you teach in schools, da? Life lessons?" Nik grins at him, then turns and simply stands up from the stool. The boy is either an idiot like Nik, or too drunk to realize he's screwed. Dis likes to think it's the second; 447 years later and he's decided that every generation definitely gets a little stupider than the last.
"Beside..." He glances up when Nik starts speaking again. "no one waste vodka on my watch."