OOM: Moscow, USSR, January 1947

[redintheledger]

Natasha should be in her room, studying. Unlike her fellow students at the Moscow State University, her semester breaks are spent back at the Red Room, where she has little time for her textbooks. Today is the first day she's been back in Moscow in (once she added up the hours) four days.

Four days spent in the nearest approximation to wilderness that geography had to offer near Moscow, which in the middle of winter was no joke. She is glad to be back in the warm and dry, with hot water and no need to try and melt the ice from her eyelashes. Not to mention the ability to wear a civilian girl's clothes, instead of a soldier's layers.

But after four days with the company of Comrade Winter, her room with a bed just for her seems too much like a cell for her to be comfortable in it.

So Natasha is in the common room, newly outfitted with amenities such as some sofas, tables, and a wireless. There is also a piano, old like the sofas but kept in good condition. Despite herself, she gravitates towards it, and walks her fingers across the keys. It reminds her of Papa, and today isn't a very good day for that.

Natasha sits down, and tries to play anyway. She can't remember any of the music Papa taught her, but she can stumble her way through some chords. It's better than sitting in her room and wallowing.

Comments

[redintheledger]

Had they been at the end of one of those training days, she would have replied in French herself. As it is, she just smiles quickly back.

Paris sounds...interesting.

When they reach the Circus on Tsvetnoy Boulevard, Natasha glances at the queue, and then back up at Alex.

"I know a man who works here," she says, casually. Unspoken, I can pull in a favour if you're game.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Do you."

He gives the queue a once-over of his own, then turns back to her. A flicker of teasing challenge is clear in his glance.

"Maybe you should see if he's around."

[redintheledger]

"I think I will," Natasha replies, and then rolls her shoulder back. The movement is subtle, but when she starts to walk again, her gait is different. Instead of a fairly normal Muscovite minding her own business, there is now the complete confidence that normally only the children of high officials show in public.

She heads straight to ticket-booth, and the girl selling the tickets isn't quite quick enough to hide the look of resignation on her face. Party brats pushing in is hardly new.

Natasha smiles a little at her. "Please let Fyodor Antonovich know that Nataliya Ivanovna is here to collect her tickets."

The girl looks from Natasha to the queue, and then just nods. "I'll be right back, comrade," she says, and then leaves her seat. There is a tiny bit of grumbling behind Natasha, but she ignores it. Quickly, the girl returns with a man in his forties.

"Ah, Nataliya Ivanovna," he says, and the Volga is still - defiantly, almost - heavy in his voice. "Come right in."

Natasha inclines her head gracefully, and then gestures for Alex to follow her. As soon as the doors shut behind them, Fyodor Antonovich pulls Natasha into a quick hug and kisses her cheek. There is a shrapnel scar clear on his forehead, and he still stands like a solider.

"You're brazen, Natashenka," he says, tone genuinely fond, and she grins at him. "And this your young man?" he continues, glancing at Alex.

[nerves_of_ice]

"For as long as she'll keep me," he says, easily.

His own stance is outwardly relaxed, his smile polite and restrained, even as he takes in the other man's scar and military demeanor.

After all, it's Natasha's contact; it's her lead.

[redintheledger]

There is a moment where it looks like Fyodor might something, but in the end he just shakes his head with a quiet, "She can handle herself."

"Of course I can, Fedya," Natasha protests, having dropped the Muscovite accent she'd slid over her vowels. Her hand dives into her purse, and there is a quick exchange of roubles for the tickets.

"You give Ivan Petrovich my regards, girl," Fyodor says, glancing again at Alex.

"I will."

Fyodor nods, and then gestures them away. "Enjoy the show," he says, and Natasha tosses him a salute before curling her arm through Alex's and pulling him down the hall.

"We fought together," she says quietly by way of an explanation.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Ah," he murmurs. "I see."

"He has the look."

[redintheledger]

"It's...hard to hide," she says, but the wryness is directed more at herself than at Fedya.

Then she glances at at him, mouth dimpling in one side. "You have it, too, otherwise he'd probably have said something...embarrassing."

Her subsequent sigh is very, very adolescent.

[nerves_of_ice]

Inwardly he notes that he'll have to work on that, in case he's ever sent on an assignment where his cover calls for it.

Outwardly, he grins at her.

"Embarrassing? Like what?"

[redintheledger]

Natasha grins back at him, and then deliberately presses her lips together.

"Allow me, Alex, my dignity," she says archly as they walk into the seating area. "Where do you want to sit?"

Not that she'd ever change the subject, oh no.

[nerves_of_ice]

He laughs, but leaves it at that as he scans the circus arena.

Nowhere too high, not if they want a good view - and besides, being in a crowd is its own sort of protection. Still, somewhere that it'd be hard to line up a shot on them would be best, just in case, and near an exit, which means not in the center of any row...

It takes him all of five seconds, if that.

"There." He nods toward a couple of empty seats, and glances at her for her reaction.

[redintheledger]

There is a pause as she follows his gaze, and she nods confirmation.

"Let's go," she says, with a bright smile as if she never looked for the nearest exit. They make their way over, and she does no more than glance at him when he ends up closer to the aisle than her.

Men.

"When was the last time you saw the circus? Or...haven't you?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"I ..."

WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF TOMORROW!

"... don't remember, actually. Never here, though."

[redintheledger]

Natasha glances at him, her brows drawn in a little. How does one...forget the circus?

"Wellllll," she says, "it's known as the best in Russia for a reason. So you're in for a treat."

She likes that, although his answer puzzled her, being able to show him something new and amazing.

[nerves_of_ice]

He catches her look and shrugs.

"It was a long time ago. I'm looking forward to this one."

His smile flashes then, quick and bright.

"After all, the company's better."

[redintheledger]

Her smile turns suddenly wry and crooked; perfectly, cynically normal.

That she shows the expression is in itself as large a gesture of trust as anything else.

"You're good with the lines, comrade. I'll give you that much," she says, entertained, as if she were the teacher and he her student. Then her expression shifts, just enough to be genuine.

"I love...seeing shows. Not just the circus, but the...ballet, too, or productions at school, when I went. Cinema, even. All of them. It's...Good seeing people enjoy a good show."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Entertainment. Something we all have in common."

He looks out at the arena, letting his glance flick over the crowd.

"The Americans love the pictures, you know. The cinema."

[redintheledger]

The crowd she is used to, and anyway, he can spot danger; she doesn't need to add her eyes to look-out just yet.

It's Alex that is the unknown here, showing flashes of himself.

"More than everyone else?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He smirks a little at that.

"They think so. They are very proud of their Hollywood, you see."

[redintheledger]

"Ohhh."

Her expression turns crooked.

"And does it make them lots of money?"

(In private, she would have asked him how good Hollywood actually was; but they are in public, and she is a child of the thirties. She holds her tongue on the assessment of their Main Adversary.)

[nerves_of_ice]

He slants a wry look at her.

"Some of them, oh yes. Not people like us, of course."

[redintheledger]

Natasha huffs a laugh.

"No, people like us are the ones who splice the film together, or put up the sets. Not nearly glamorous enough."

Her tone is amused enough that it's clear she doesn't mind.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Not nearly," he agrees, his own tone dry as dust, but laughter in his eyes as he settles a little more comfortably into his seat.

"They'll never know what they're missing."

[redintheledger]

"But at least they can enjoy the show," she says. She hadn't planned on timing it just before the music starts, but then there are drums.

"Speaking of-!" Natasha says, letting herself smile at the alignment of events.

And then she keeps smiling, because the lights over the crowd dim, and the parade starts.

[nerves_of_ice]

It's quite a while later when the two of them mingle with the crowd on the way out of the circus.

Alex is grinning.

"I still say the acrobats weren't that impressive," he teases.

[redintheledger]

"And I still say you are a liar. Did you see what Shchedrina did with the rope?



I wonder how you'd go about learning some of that," she adds, tone thoughtful.