ataraxionlogs | EVENT: SPACE PIRATES ▒ OXYGEN GARDENS

[Russia can't help but smile back, tucking too long bangs behind his ear as he quickly makes sure she's unhurt. Looking to see if she's armed is a wasted effort, because he already knows she must be, and Heather's tough enough to take care of herself besides.]

Couldn't leave you alone, yeah? [A short laugh, gaze flickering around before settling on her again.] Keepin' busy?

Oh, yeah. Telling lost dumbfucks that the area they're supposed to be camping in in the area with all the people and tents, yelling at people to get out of the damn crops. It's everything I hoped a pirate attack would be.

[She doesn't sound nearly as cranky as she'd like to. She's not sure how a situation that involves so much running around after people can be boring, but it is. Russia isn't, ever (and not just because standing next to him makes her feel like she's taken a slug from Alice's Drink Me bottle), so just having him around raises her mood.

He needs a haircut. Ought to be a crime to hide those eyes.]

How is it that people who individually are pretty smart and capable can make up such a dumb fuckin' animal when they all get together?

[Nope that wasn't a giggle, most definitely not. But Russia can't help it, Heather treats him just the same, and all her sass during a pirate attack of all things just offers up a degree of normalcy that he needs. His fingers still tap out a pattern against his leg, a nervous tick that's picked up in the past few weeks, but the tense line of his shoulders has relaxed and he's more focused on her than on scanning surroundings now.]

Herd mentality? [Who knows, he thinks most people are pretty dumb so.] Who knows, maybe there's something in the water.

[And right on cue his hair flops back in his face like he's some kind of sheepdog. Russia grumbles to himself, rucks his hair back, and tries not to flush in embarrassment. He really needs to get a hair cut it's been too long.]

[Her eyes flick to the tapping of his fingers against his leg - is that a nation thing, or did one of them pick it up from the other? - but she doesn't have long to ponder over it before the hair flop and then she's giggling too, mostly at the look on his face rather than the hair itself.]

You need a haircut. [Never one to refrain from stating the obvious.] Probably not much time for it with all this going on, but I can lend you a hairclip in the meantime.

[Because he'd look so fetching with a ket-made cluster of quilted flower holding his hair back. Not that she has any room to tease anyone about their hair - hers is unbrushed today, as most days.]

[Both probably, if we're being honest. In truth he doesn't even realize it half the time, too busy thinking over every little thing to recognize the little ticks he's displaying. As it is, Russia's more concerned with holding bangs out of his eyes and smiling somewhat sheepishly.]

Mm, that'd be a help. [flowers and pirate beads, gosh he's just gathering trinkets like no tomorrow! Who knows, maybe next he'll have a pretty little ribbon to tie his hair back in a tiny ponytail.] I'll cut it when I have time, I guess.

[Because so help him if he trusts people with scissors in close quarters to his face.]

[Holy shit she was kidding, dude. Still, she can relate - she'd let Murphy cut her hair once and sobbed grossly when it was too much like having her dad do it when she was little, and since then she's been doing it herself. Easier, now that it's hovering around shoulder length, but the state of her hair doesn't seem like a priority in deep space.

Still, if he wants to use it she's not gonna say no. If he takes off to be a hero (or more likely, a menace) and dies because his bangs are in his eyes, she'll feel bad for the rest of her life.

Her eyes

might be

lighting up.]

It's in my room. We'd have to go get it.

[If you haven't realized yet, he's got a weakness for cute things. Oops, sorry bout that Heather. Not that he knows it's a cute flowery hairclip, but hey, Russia's the kind of nation who likes pink and knits in his free time what do you expect from him?

But her eyes light up and Russia grins, all sharp edges and too many teeth. That wasn't exactly his plan but hey, who's he to disagree?]

Might have to take a detour or two along the way. [C'mon Heather let him have some fun he's itching to break some skulls in.] Won't take very long, we'll be back before anybody notices.

[Or will they]

I mean really, with your hair like that it's a safety issue. It'd be irresponsible of us not to.

[It may sound like she's trying to talk herself into it, but that's a little at odds with the fact that she's already moving for the entrance. You're a bad influence, Russia.]

[You know you love it, Heather ♥. He trots forward to catch up with her and can't help but laugh.]

Aye, who knows what hazards might befall me? [Russia just shut up and walk.]

[You might get led into danger by a tiny idiot, for starters. At least she can appreciate the irony in the way his accent nearly turns her name and hazard into homophones, and she flashes him a sharp-edged little grin. But! To business.]

Okay, if we're gonna do this we better do it right. I don't wanna get yelled at if you get shot.

[She doesn't want to get shot either

but honestly if she had to choose between the two she'd probably take the latter]

[Hmmm, that sounds rather familiar for some reason. Russia should probably rethink his priorities and his associates. Not like he will though, so it's with a shrug of his shoulder that he tips his head down to catch her gaze. An answering smile cuts across his face, all teeth and sharp edges and dark eyes.]

'course. [Anticipation curls in his gut, heady given the fact that he has a purpose after what feels like forever. He reaches out and gently touches her shoulder, guiding without actually guiding, considering the fact that they both know their way around. There's a soft huff though, amused.] Wouldn't be the first time I got shot, don't worry about it.

[Russia stop]

[Oh Russia is this going to be a My Horrible Life contest? She won't win, but she may be stiffer competition than you imagine. But something - maybe that light touch on her shoulder - tells her that's not what this is about.]

Have you been shot by pirates before?

[It's actually a genuine question, and asked with way too much eagerness. She'd like to hear a story about proper pirates, okay? She's also pushing one sleeve up in preparation to flash her SCI tattoo if anyone questions why they're leaving, but...

nobody does.

Nobody challenges the giant, imposing-looking nation and the the girl with the I dare you look on her face. Imagine that.]

[Sadly, no it's not. Simply because Russia doesn't talk about it. Back home, he doesn't have to. The other Nations were there for it in some measure of the word, or they can easily crack open a book or type some words in google and find his history spilled like ink at their fingertips. Here though, there's some modicum of privacy that he's never really had. In truth, he's still not sure if that's a blessing or not.]

No, no pirates. Not exactly. [Because England doesn't really count, apparently.] Have you?

[He doesn't think so, but who knows with this ship man. Besides that though, he's not entirely surprised nobody is bothering them, typically nobody wants to bother him, specially when he's got a dark look on his face like he does.]

Nope. Not by pirates or anybody else.

[Which was nothing but luck, and the fact that those things that had looked like nurses were too wracked by whatever it was that kept them moving to aim properly. She hadn't been so lucky with the ones who had scalpels. Some leftover talent from when they'd been people, maybe, but at least those scars had healed up tidily. She's got a feeling a bullet would have left her with something far uglier than the shiny slashes of paler skin she wears instead.]

Actually, considering some of the neighborhoods I've lived in, that probably counts as a miracle.

[Saint Alessa preserve.]

Well, we'll have to keep up that track record then.

[Just, nonchalantly decides that. Good going Russia, but uh, hey Netherlands would probably be huffy at him if he let Heather get shot so....(He doesn't stop to think that maybe Netherlands would be just as mad to see him get shot, but alas.) And hey, at least Russia has enough tact to not question that second bit, though maybe it's because he knows what its like. Still, he looks over at her, questioningly.]

How many rounds do you have?

Ten in it and twelve spare. 's not ideal, but it could be worse.

[It could also be a hell of a lot better. Why couldn't her locker decide to spit out the sub machine gun she'd found in the hospital? It had been hard for her to handle in anything but the shortest bursts, but somehow she doesn't think Russia would have the same problem.

Plus he'd look really cool.]

Do you have anything, or are we just relying on your size making people think twice?

Hmm.

[That's...not too bad actually. He was preparing to hear a much lower number. So there's a huff of laughter and he shoots her a quick look.]

I'm not quite that foolhardy. [But he still is, a bit.] Got my pistol, five rounds left, my pipe and--[There's a quick wrist movement and in a flash of silver there's a long knife in his hand.]--this.

[The sad thing is, he's always got these on him. This is nothing unusual when it comes to Russia and being armed.]

[It would have been lower, but for the generosity of one John Tillman. Reason enough to be a little in love with the guy. Then again, she might be a little in love with Russia right now. That's a lot of hardware to have hidden away, but there's a lot of him to hide it on. If she tried that she'd clank when she walked, weapons falling out at every step.

When she laughs at that bright gleam of blade she sounds like nothing so much as somebody's giddy, giggly girlfriend on the receiving end of a little inappropriate public touching.]

Put that away! Aren't we at least trying to be subtle? I have friends on security, I don't need people down here making disappointed-in-you faces at me before we even get into any trouble.

[He quirks a brow at her, because come now Heather, he's a hulking mass of intimidation on most days and right about now it's probably remarkably clear what they're about to do. Still, his sister's blade disappears right back into its sheath and he shrugs a shoulder.]

If you insist. [Sorry Heather, he really doesn't care what sort of disappointed faces he gets. He's already gotten the Don't-wind-up-in-MedBay-or-I'll-Hurt-You talk, nothing else can beat that. Besides, he heard that giggle you can't even begin to convince him you're not as excited about hunting pirates as he is.] Though you did ask.

[Can you tell he's in a better mood than he's been in months? Who knew pirates would get rid of left over mask hangover depression.]

EVENT: SPACE PIRATES ▒ OXYGEN GARDENS

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