So here's what you missed on Glee:
Puck and Santana have been stranded on an island that kind of reminds them of Lost, except without the cool polar bears and the smoke monster, and both of them are missing home and feeling way out of their league, even if neither will admit to it. (
"Not your type of party, is it?" "If I say no, you're going to
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The boy did have a lovely voice and when the song was over, Anatoly applauded. "That was a very lovely song."
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"Josh Groban," he whispered, his heart fluttering in his chest. "Oh. My god. I... never really thought that I'd ever hear those six words coming from you. Or, well, at least not until I made it big on Broadway, but I'm not holding my breath on that happening in the next couple of years, so this is still way more than I'm prepared for, but... can I just say that in spite of how you quite possibly voted ( ... )
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"I am afraid I am not Josh Groban," he said with a wry smile. "Though I understand I look very much like him."
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He peeked off and to the side, eyes widening as he hoped that he hadn't suddenly made matters very complicated for Josh indeed. On an island of only three-hundred, Kurt could only imagine how difficult life probably was for the few celebrities who'd made their way to Tabula Rasa, flocked by civilians at all times without hope for reprieve. "Unless I was supposed to keep that secret to go with your newfound accent."
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"My name is Anatoly Sergievsky," he continued. "Perhaps he is a long lost relative of mine and that is why we look so much alike."
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Kurt paused. Of course, Puck had warned him about this, somewhere in the rest of the babble he'd tried to pass off as an explanation about the island. He'd mentioned that some of the residents were characters lifted from books, texts, even films, but in all honesty, Kurt had expected that Puck meant that their actors and actresses had been pulled to the island, rather than any actual embodiments of the characters. If he was to believe Josh Groban- or, Anatoly, as it were- then clearly, Kurt had believed wrong.
"As in the grand chessmaster? Freddie Trumper's great rival?" he asked, before pressing his hand to his lips, wondering if he'd said too much. After all, if someone else came up to Kurt claiming that he was from a musical or a television show... well, first, he'd probably apologize, he couldn't imagine that high school glee would make for something very interesting to watch, but then he'd promptly be scared off by all the intimate details of his life that others were apparently privy to.
Quite the dilemma.
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"Yes, the very same," he answered brightly. "You know of me? Not many do, here. I am honored."
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"You did? I am honored to hear this," he said, putting a hand to his heart. "I cannot imagine it was easy to do this considering the... feelings between our countries."
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"Well, I didn't watch them at the time," Kurt clarified with a tilt of his head. "I was a little young back in the Cold War days to really process chess, but even decades later there was still, ah, coverage that people could watch at will."
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"I suppose Trumper's games are studied as well, as perhaps as a sort of how not to behave?"
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All he could see himself doing was sidestepping the matter, then hoping that Anatoly wouldn't pry too far.
"Well... I mean, conduct is something that each person judges for his or herself," Kurt offered with a nervous smile and a shrug. "But you can't deny that he's still a pretty good chess player, right?"
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"He might have occasional flashes of brilliance," he railed on, gesticulating wildly. "I will even admit that he is a challenge for me at times. But chess... it is more than just a board of sixty-four squares and pieces facing down each other. It has a life, a history of its own and to fling all of that aside just for money as he has done is a disgrace - a complete and utter disgrace."
He stopped for a moment and ducked his head, feeling a little embarrassed. "Please forgive me, I did not not mean to go on so. You have studied my games then you know my... relationship with Trumper has not exactly been an easy one."
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"Forgive me," Anatoly said humbly. "I did not mean to - what is that word? Vent. I did not mean to vent at you. He and I... the history has been difficult as you know. He is here as well, you see."
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If only because, well, it would be pretty hard to be angry with Adam Pascal's face, if any middlemanning was required.
"It's fine," he shook his head, waving a hand dismissively. "Trust me, I'm still in high school, the whole venting thing happens everywhere you turn and you kind of get used to it. And, for anyone who doesn't want to bend over at every negative emotion, you learn how to employ it as well. I know how cathartic it can be."
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