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

[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.

[nerves_of_ice]

"I do have eyes."

Even as he speaks, he flicks his gaze over the crowd, but all appears well, and so he returns his attention to Natasha.

"Join the circus?" he suggests, blandly.

[redintheledger]

Natasha gives him an arch look and bumps into his shoulder.

Not hard, though. Metal has a distressing tendency to win when it comes to altercations with flesh.

"Tempting, but I don't think I'd be able to handle the circus and doing my degree."

[nerves_of_ice]

"You've got a point."

Not to mention her other training.

The cold outside hasn't gotten any warmer. He shrugs his shoulders inside his coat, settling it more closely against the back of his neck, and looks down at her.

"How long do you have before you finish, anyway?"

[redintheledger]

"Three and a half years. I'll graduate in 1950."

Her look at him is a little sharp. He could just be asking, but she wants to keep studying linguistics. Of course she'd accept if they want her to study something else, because she is loyal, but-

[nerves_of_ice]

"That long."

He lets out a short breath.

"Okay."

[redintheledger]

Not reassuring.

"It's a university degree," Natasha says, voice even. "Not a summer class. Is this...a problem?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Not a problem. It's only..."

They're walking, he's not sure where, but at the moment where doesn't matter.

"... you're doing very well, you know. I was just curious."

[redintheledger]

Natasha knows where they're headed.

She also know bullshit when she hears it.

"I am," she says, because there is being modest, and there is acknowledging one's talents, and she does - generally - trust him enough to be herself. "I think doing a post-graduate thesis would be pushing it, but I am doing well.

It's...good having that kind of intellectual discipline, too."

[nerves_of_ice]

He smiles a little, at that.

"I'll take your word for it."

[redintheledger]

She suddenly smiles.

"We'll have to be partners, then. I'll do analysis, and you lead the hands on side."

[nerves_of_ice]

His smile broadens.

"Sounds like we'd make a great team."

[redintheledger]

"I think we've already proven than, Alex." She uses her free hand to gesture to the street and the people still on it.

"We've successfully nearly completed a self-appointed mission to have a good time. There is just one objective that remains."

[nerves_of_ice]

"And what might that be?"

He slants an amused look at her.

[redintheledger]

"Ice-cream," she says serenely, and glances up the street.

"Here we go," she adds, and tugs him into a still-open store. Amongst the young couples talking and laughing, they don't stand out in the slightest.

"Please tell me you remember having ice-cream."

[nerves_of_ice]

He allows himself to be drawn, even as he protests,

"Of course I do!"

Even though he can't think of an occasion right at this particular second.

"It's just never been a frequent sort of thing."

[redintheledger]

Natasha clicks her tongue behind her teeth, and keeps herself hugging his arm to protect against accidental bumpings.

"Shame. So what flavour do you feel like?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"There's something to be said for simple chocolate."

He smiles down at her.

"What about you?"