Jan 07 09:36:27 110 PA - Conversation and Death Threats at the Deli

From Chronicles

Jan 07 09:36:27 110 PA.

YAKOV'S DELI

Of course everyone's gotta eat. And if not, we don't 'ppreciate their kind 'round here. As is, Slava is sitting in one of the booths, watching the patrons and wolfing down some stew and watching the employees. She likes watching people, it would seem. If nothing else, it beats staring straight ahead. And you never know if something interesting and comedic is about to happen, such as someone spontaneously combusting.

"Because it's not the most commonly spoken language on earth. Which is where you are. So you may want to work on your linguistics." Valeriya offers as she steps into line behind Dante. Odd finding her here, not really, she comes here for most lunches.

Dante chuckles and shoots a smile at Valeriya, "I try." He says in his heavily accented English, "But, is difficult. Do not know writing of this language." He looks back towards the menu and then lets Valeriya go ahead of him, "Tell me what good is here?" Yeah, clearly English is not his first language.

A large man pushes the door open and scoots aside to let out one of the deli's older patrons. With his nose tickled by the odors coming from the kitchen, Pavel moves inside, lowering his huge six-foot long hammer with the giant battering head as he goes. No sense in putting holes in the ceiling. << Hello! >> he declares to the counter in clear Russian. The counter is slapped happily. << Two plates of whatever you have the most of, please. >> For now, it would appear that food, and not people, is the main issue.

"Most everything is good here. Especially the mead. Might be better to offer what you don’t like, then you know what to avoid. I like the beat stew myself." Valeriya explains before placing an order for just that. She glances back to see Pavel's arrival then gives an indifferent shrug.

"Am willing try anything least once, most things twice. If all is good then have many meals try." Dante admits. When he finally gets to order as well he says, "Same as she." and gestures towards Valeriya ordering the same thing presumably. Pavel and his hammer get a long look after all, six foot long hammers are not standard civilian issue but it doesn't take long before he is looking for a place to sit with his food.

Pavel's hammer lands on the floor, its head leading with a resounding *THUMP* on the ground as he waits. Eventually, two plates of borscht are brought out, and he asks for a pitcher of Medovuha soon after. Once all is in place and on a tray, credits are delivered. The tray is raised, and he finally turns to inspect the populace and look for a place to sit. For a while, he just takes a spot in the middle of the room to stand and inspect. It would seem however, that Valeriya is probably not going to be his first choice of meal partner, if he does pick one.

When that hammer hits the ground, it makes it kinda hard to ignore. Slava's eyes widen as she takes it in, and then jump to Pavel. Back to the hammer. << If that truly is what I think, you shouldn't have had to pay for your meal, >> she says in accented Russian. << Perhaps I can buy you a drink, smith? >>

Valeriya collects her mug of mead and bowl of stew, grabbing a cheese biscuit to go with it all as well. She then decides to follow Dante to his table choice. "You mind?" She enquirers, her tongue seeming to choose the native of anyone listening.

Dante shakes his head, "Not at all." He smiles, "It is good to have the company." He switches back to Dragonese since it seems to him anyways that that's what Valeriya is speaking and he is more comfortable in that language. Taking his own stew and the like he heads over towards a table and sets his tray down, gesturing towards an empty space for Valeriya. "I am looking forwards to this little proving grounds session. It will be good to see how you fight and how we might work together."

Pavel looks somewhat surprised - no, genuinely surprised - when the armed woman speaks to him in Russian. He looks down, grinning, and continues in the language. << Ah, hello! Why wouldn't I need to pay? Unless you mean that I could have beaten it out of them for free? >> A loud, happy and deep laugh emerges as his head retreats momentarily at an angle. << I'm Pavel, >> he introduces with a continuing smile. << You can buy me a drink if you like, but I'm just as happy to drink with whatever you might already have. In fact, I could share some of the mead with you if you'd be interested. I only order the pitcher because ordering multiple glasses looks silly; it's more than I can drink in a sitting. Or should, right? HA! >> Gregarious? Yup. He motions toward Slava's table. << May I sit? You seem to be good company for a meal. >>

Slava offers Pavel a smile. <> She rises from the table and gestures across from her. << It's been a long time since I had medovukha. Please, have a seat. >>

Valeriya nods in agreement. "Once I get a feel for your abilities it will be pretty easy to plan to take advantage of them." She concurs, before recalling for a moment over a pull of mead. "So you have a pump pistol, that shuts explosive rounds. What else do you have? I know uranium round turned out to be too price for it. But i do have access to other custom rounds. Tear gas, stun, and concussion." Dante has reconnected.

Dante hmmms, "Well, I have silver blades for those that are vulnerable, vibro-weapons for those that aren't along with the skill to use them. I have this," He pulls out a Wilk's 227 from the small of his back and sets it on the table, "For standard targets not immune to energy. I also have an SR15 with silver rounds, and I am trying to get hold of heavy ramjet rounds to put a hurting on everything else." He stirs his stew and then takes a bite, "And I have a few tricks, that I'm unwilling to discuss in such a place." He admits, "But we all have tricks, don't we." He's still speaking Dragonese of course.

The large fellow boots an empty chair away from the inviting table with, well... a boot. Enough to slide into it without too much trouble from his belt, and room to lean the hammer against the wall. The tray is set, and the pitcher lifted to the center. << Please, enjoy! You've seen a hammer like this before? Interesting! >> he smiles. << Where did you see it, my mealtime friend? This continent, or another? I'm told that there's a lot of water in between, but I haven't seen it, myself, >> Pavel offers with an uneducated shrug. The borscht gets pushed around slightly as he picks some small utensils from his tray. Then, for whatever reason possesses him, he looks to the woman again and bobs his head, << My name is Pavel Nikolayevich Lavochkin. It's nice to meet you, a stranger at my friend's deli. >> The other table with the funny language receives a glance, but nothing more. His tablemate is interesting enough.

Uranium? Slava glances over at that other table. A mite hard to ignore that... but she turns back to Pavel an instant later. <> She shakes her head. << For that reason, the bearers of such hammers are greatly respected. >> She holds out her hand Pavel. <> Valeriya nods again, taking in Dante's list of armaments at the table they share. She does so over a bowl of beat stew and a mug of mead. Idly dipping a cheese biscuit in the stew as she listens. "Yes we all have our tricks. Myself included certainly. But I imagine yours are magic? I can sense that much... But I shouldn’t pry here if you don't care to share. Perhaps talk about myself instead, being a talented mage and all."

"I assumed as much when you spoke of the talismans as you do not appear to be from Atlantis." Dante says but he is a little bit stiff at the suggestion that his tricks might be related to magic, a slight flaring of the nostrils and narrowing of eyes but it smooths out quick enough. "It's not something easily explained regardless." He smiles a little and then devotes some attention to his meal since he did come in here hungry after all. Still speaking in Dragonese the young man asks, "Are you a simple Mercenary Valeriya?" His tone curious, "Or do you have a stake in what is right and wrong with this world?" Dante has partially disconnected.

Pavel shakes his head and is quiet for a moment with a forkful of food in his mouth. Then, << I've seen the continent, yes. It's home. A place called Krasny Kut, within Warlord Romanov's domain near Saratov. Ever been in that part? I meant that I'd never seen the large amount of water, >> he says by way of clarification. Judging by his own facial expressions, the babbling at the other table is to him apparently just interpreted best as funny noises. << It's good to meet you, Kala Slava Kinov, who I'll just call Slava. That's an interesting patronymic, no? Are you from a different area of Russia, come here to do...? >> A questioning shrug follows again. << It doesn't seem like you're from anywhere strange, you don't have an accent like Rasputin does. >> A big catcher's mitt of a hand is waved toward the kitchen. << He owns the deli, nice guy. Little guy! HA! >> Whatever mystery that two-word declaration may hold, is left to be held.

This time, Pavel has Slava's full attention. She seems all animated as she listens, smiling broadly and nodding rapidly. <> She sounds remarkably proud. << I work as a scout. I, ah... became lost when I searched for our patrol. They vanished. As did I, I suppose?" She reaches up and runs a hand through her hair. << Ah, I have never seen this Rasputin. I have been here but twice. >>

"Been there. But no I'm not from there." Valeriya confirms before taking another bight of her biscuit. "Its not a very friendly place for humans." She adds before taking another bight. "Where are you from? Speaking the most common language in the megaverse?" She inquires with a sly smirk. She holds the smirk as she considers his question. "I'm no simple mercenary." Is her eventual answer.

Dante nods, "Their slavers are a constant threat." He takes a few more bites of his stew, taking the time to think about how he might want to answer the question posed to him. "I am from the Zone." He eventually answers, "Or I was, before my village was destroyed." He answers in Dragonese, which might explain why he speaks that language first and foremost. "Ever since then I've devoted myself to hunting the supernatural, at least that which makes the world darker." He smiles a little wryly, "I saved this town from oppression and they sought to make me their ruler. Such is not my way so I started heading South to fight that threat. Decided to stop here on the way."

Pavel's head bobs as he eats once more. << Romanov is a good woman. You should be proud, helping to fight on her side. I'm not exactly a laser-gun fighting type, myself. But I get around. I got here... let's see, going on eight years ago. Found myself in the Federation of Magic, which is north-northeast of here. Dunno why, just the way that kind of emergency travel works, I guess. >> Smiling, he nods again to the kitchen. << Rasputin is a dwarf who is as small as I am large, >> he explains. << If you've seen these hammers before, I guess there are more of me than I thought! Such a blow to my ego not to be the only one. >> He grins, chuckles, and goes for food again. A moment passes as he chews. << Do you plan on continuing work as a scout, Slava? >> He looks as if he's thinking on the name for one more moment, but then whatever it was just evaporates into the ether and he's back, interested and pushing the pitcher across the table. << Please, enjoy yourself. >>

Slava grabs the pitcher, and slowly pours herself a good glass as she listens. << There are few warlords worth fighting for, but Romanov is one of them. I am proud that she will have me in her service. When I return home, I will continue to act as a scout. Until then, I have yet to decide what to do... but I must still find the missing troops. It was the task I was given. >> She pushes the pitcher onto the center of the table again. << Not those hammers, but similar. Only similar. >> She raises the glass. << Only problem drinkers don't toast before drinking. To our meeting! >>

"So the supernatural evil is whats wrong with the world? Or just a symptom?" Valeriya asks Dante with a raised brow for some measure in introducing her view. "I don’t have a personal stake in whats best for a planet. I don’t claim to have intellect to know whats best for an entire planet. I do much better working with whats good for me and those around me."

"Never said that." Dante answers in Dragonese, "There are plenty of evils in this world, from men to demon to dragon and vampire. I make no claim to know what's best for the world but I do know wrong when I see it. I do what I can, that is all I can do." He reaches for his drink and takes a sip. "I know that evil is not idle, and good people can't be either. I just do what good I can, which is why I've offered my help with that border dispute."

<< To friendship! >> Pavel toasts, a mug in his hand. A mug that may look tiny in his particular hand. << Do you have a way of getting back? >> is asked hopefully, with big round eyes. << I've come here, I assume because I'm supposed to. But I'd assume that if I could go home, that's also where I'm supposed to be. Which is where I'd rather be. But, you go where the work tells you to go, right? >> He nods his head toward the big mallet and winks. <> Then he sticks his tongue out.

Slava drinks the sweet liquid with the subtle burn. She nods. <> She glances down at the hammer. <>

"We can only do what we can." Valeriya agrees without hesitation before taking a good pull of mead as if to toast to the statement. The other table is doing it. Which draws a brief glance before she looks back to Dante and then to her empty bowl. "Well looks like I'm done for this lunch. I'll catch up with you once I've found Ivan." She assures, rising as she finishes her mead.

Dante nods, "I look forwards to it, especially if you are such a talented magician." A slight crooked smile drifts onto his lips at that and he lifts his glass in toast to her. "Take care of yourself Valeriya." He says in Dragonese before he takes another drink and then finishes the rest of his meal in short order using his bread to sop up what's left of the stew in the bowl.

Pavel laughs at the suggestion of the mirror. << Yes, it would be much more difficult to drag along. What are you doing while you look for your comrades? Working for the police, or something like that? >>

"Ivan?" Slava's eyes turn to Valeriya. "You mentioned Ivan," she says across the room. Well, such as it is. "Is this Ivan big, hairy, kinda slow? Thinks he's number one strong man?" She turns her head to Pavel. << Excuse me. I might have a lead. >>

"And smells like a distillery? Yeah same guy. I met him here, and offered him a job assisting with a property dispute to the south. What's it to you?" Valeriya asks of Slava, halting her path towards the door. She seems content to see this through in the here and now.

Dante looks over towards Slava and Valeriya as they start talking of Ivan, a name he has heard once or twice at this point. He leans back in his chair and stretches out some as he glances between the two women and then over towards Pavel wondering if perhaps he is going to also become involved in their conversation.

Pavel puts his fork and knife down when Valeriya rises and goes on the offensive. Or at least, is offensive. Though his face remains largely as it had been, he makes no qualms about visibly making his huge mallet ready. << Slava, be careful. This woman is a very powerful mage who likes to threaten lives. >> However, he remains seated and says nothing to further interrupt the two-person conversation.

Slava nods rapidly. "Yes, like a distillery... and goats." This last part is said in a lower voice. "Ivan is my colleague. We have worked together often. Where can I find him?"

"Hopefully here eventually. That's my plan at least." Valeriya answers to Slava before she lets Pavel's comment sour her expression. "Excuse me, I have a preset arrangement with Pavel here. Any time he makes an unfounded accusation of me I'm obliged to instantly make it come true. That means I have to threaten his life and enjoy it. Not difficult, but no offense to you." She adds to Slava before her stance turns aggressive as she turns to look to Pavel. Her form shimmers and some sort of magic barrier seems to protect her. Then a four foot blade of ice forms in her hand. She levels it at Pavel with a nod. "Go ahead, make my day."

Pavel grips his hammer at the ready, but remains seated. << I've no interest in fighting with you. If you want to take your words literally, then you must simply stand there, tell me that you're going to kill me, and enjoy the sound of your own words, no? >>

Dante just stays out of it for the time being.

Okay, so Slava has a case of goosebumps going. "Ah. This is a good man," she says in a calm but hurried voice. "I am sure there is no reason to fight. Especially not as I would likely be the first to die, which is a terrible way to end the day."

Valeriya nods to Pavel. "If you push it, I will kill you." She concurs with a smirk before her sword dissolves and she shrugs to Slava. "Well so long as he doesn’t call me a bloodthirsty killer you should be ok. And I'm glad I only had to threaten, Rasputin would never forgive me for fighting here." She offers, dismissing the short lived dour mood.

Pavel stays where he is, and despite the waving of swords and dangerous words, seems rather nonplussed. It looks for a moment as if he may have something to add, but then he just chuckles and shrugs, keeping his silence. Almost. <> Then, then.. he turns back to his mead.

Dante tilts his head to the side as he listens to the back and forth but he can only understand Valeriya and Slava. He remains quiet still, finishing his drink and then setting the remains down and picking up his Wilk's and holstering it at the small of his back under his coat. "Many reasons fight, kill. See none here. Words, no good reason." He shrugs and then moves to deposit the detritus of his meal into the appropriate receptacles.

Slava keeps her eyes on Valeriya, still just a shade nervous there. And then she hears Pavel's quip, which causes her to grin like the Cheshire Cat. She isn't entirely sure it won't come to blows, but at least she'll be in a good mood when someone punches out her entrails or some such.

Valeriya nods again. "I am such a person, what coincidence." She agrees with a smile. "Now I can continue leaving. Have a nice day." She concurs and makes her exit.

Pavel sticks to his drink, watching Valeriya leave the delicatessen. He can't do much more than offer Slava a shrug that might suggest something along the lines of, "See?" The other person, who had not yet been met, is not addressed.

Dante smiles as things seem to calm down, "Good." He says with a nod, "Good people no should fight. Plenty more worthy of destruction." He walks over towards Slava and Pavel, "Dante," He says with a tap of his chest, his English carrying a heavy Dragonese accent, "I do not know language speaking earlier. This one, not so good either. Hope is not hard talk." He says to the pair and smiles. "Want thank for keeping peace when faced with.." He pauses, frowns thinking hard, "Possible," he finally decides on, "violence."

Slava runs a hand through her hair again. << Mages. I never get used to being around people that can turn me inside out with a few words. >> She looks over at Dante, and slowly reaches into one of her coat pockets. She holds up her other hand to show she totally isn't drawing some weapon.

Dante is totally not worried and not brandishing any weapons either, if anything seems friendly and relaxed.

Pavel smiles at both the comment of mages, and Dante's introduction. Since everyone else is standing, he stands too, taking time to lean his hammer back where it had been resting against the wall. Unfortunately, it would appear that American isn't his best language either. Something that soon becomes apparent when he offers a big grin and extends his hand. "Allo! Pavel. Noht trohbeyl veesz Vahlehreeyah. She has noht laheeke fohr sohm rheesohns. Ohkeh, szough. Vhaht lehnguahge vas speekeeng? Ohnly knov Russian, Euro, sohm of szees."

Slava takes out a language translator, if either of the men will be able to recognize it, and goes about calibrating the thing. She remains focused on that for the time being.

Dante answers, after a /long/ time of puzzling out the thickly accented words of a language he's not the best with, "Dragonese, some people say is Elf language too." He looks towards Slava and her language translator but he doesn't seem to recognize it, just looking at it curiously. Still speaking (bad) English, "Rooshan? Uro? I do not know." He admits. "Still, offer thanks."

The large man points at Slava's device. He obviously recognizes it, and says as much. "Ah, fohr trahnslehte. Had vahn, boot szeengk eef noht vohrk ohn speek raheete, nevehr vould learn to speek raheete! Mehbe noht true, boot vhaht seem true. Gehve my trahnslehtohr to mahn nehmed 'Bob.' Byettehr szahn just syehl fohr mohney, I szeenk." He then shrugs again apologetically, this time to Dante. "Vyehry sohrry. Szees lehnguage hahrd fohr me to lehrn. Knov sound vyehry bahd, evehryone seh szees to me."

Slava sets up the microphone towards Dante. "Speak your tongue into this." She indicates said microphone. In lieu of the standard headset, she sets it up to a small loudspeaker. You know, the tiny ones you can buy for ten bucks or so. Even though she's being bad and preventing the man from expressing himself in a foreign tongue. It is a burden she must bear.

Dante raises an eyebrow and nods, when he speaks he speaks in his perfectly fluent Dragonese. "I am not sure what to say, but this is the language I know. Perhaps that machine will know how to translate it. Perhaps not." He shrugs, "But it cannot hurt I suppose."

Pavel frowns, then sighs. << So, now that we're all pretending to speak the same language? >> Yeah, he manages a chuckle at that. << Did the two of you end up here by reputation? It's a great place, but you have to expect people to be speaking Russian here. A Russian owns it, Russians operate it. But good food! >> A longing look is given to his table, and he excuses himself, only to return with the essentially full pitcher of honey mead.

The machine does know how to translate that. With a 98.7 percent accuracy! But unfortunately there's a three second delay. "It is okay to pretend sometimes. We have the technology." She grabs her glass again, and takes a good, long drink from it. Nice with a little booze after the whole scary mage affair.

Dante shrugs at the comment, "I do not know of Russian people. I was born in this land and speak the language I was raised with and those others often spoken here." He smiles, "Dragonese is spoken by many people, many races, in many dimensions. It is a good language to learn and probably easier than American, is certainly easier for me. As for why I came here... I was hungry, was told it had good food. That was enough for me. I was expecting it to be a foreign language only establishment."

<< It isn't only Russian, >> Pavel explains, << It just happens to be often Russian. Don't worry, there are lots and lots of people who come here who speak lots and lots of different languages. It just happens that mine happens to be the right one. >> He grins, then goes to drink directly from the pitcher. A bit of propriety allows him to pull up before drinking from it, in case Slava decides that she wants more. Another retreat to the table sees him come back with a full mug, and a short salute is given with it. As a way of returning to the conversation, he asks, "Do you already know Valeriya, Dante?"

Slava raises her glass to Pavel, and then tosses back the rest of the mead. She does want more, it seems, so she steps over to the table and fills the glass before returning to the men. They're talking peacefully, although there's a portable translator in use. There was a bit of posturing involving an angry mage a little while ago.

Dante shrugs, "As much as I know anyone in this city." He responds, speaking perfectly fluent Dragonese by the way even if the translator is switching his words into Russian. "She spoke of something I agree with and I offered my help as it is a just cause. That is as far as I know her. I am... uncomfortable working with so many mages, but if things should be otherwise than I was told. I will do what is necessary."

Pavel listens to both, frowning impatiently at the three second delay. Of course, frowning with a tickling smile on his lips. When it comes his turn to speak into the magic machine, << Hmm, mages can be dangerous. But I know... hmm. I think one mage I like against three that I don't. When you have them threatening your life, it becomes something to miss, no? Not that I'm sure I can speak entirely fairly on the subject. >> The last is said more to Slava specifically, and with a little wink. << It shouldn't be narrowed to magic, it's anyone who doesn't look to do good things. Someone toting a rifle or a sword can be just as evil. It's just that magic can be more, ah.. maybe powerful isn't the perfect word, but close? >> He and two others are standing over near the tables. Pavel's hammer is leaning against the wall, and one table has a clearly unfinished lunch resting on it.

Slava nods firmly. "Magic doesn't play fair." Clearly a great philosopher. "But at least I now have learned that I am better off wearing armor when I go out. It's good to know." She sips her glass of mead. It's good, and giving her a nice little buzz.

Dante nods, "I did not mean to suggest that all magic was evil, or that it was the only way to be evil. It is however the only way to summon and bind demons, to rip apart the world and give over souls to darkness. That makes it a greater threat to my thinking. There are forces, like the Coalition, who do their own evil yes but I grew up in the Zone. Magic is what I know how to fight." He smiles a little bit at that, "It is my specialty." He looks over towards Slava, "This place allows dangerous weapons in the street, I would think armor is important yes." He chuckles amusedly.

Pavel looks decidedly unarmored, and unless throwing things counts as ranged weapons, is out of luck. A shrug is given on both subjects. << They're important. But people like Valeriya, even she wouldn't have killed me right here, even if I had genuinely done something wrong. The police would have hunted her down for murder. >> He chuckles and salutes with his mug again. << Not that it makes dying any better, right?! HA! So, you battle magic? >> It comes as a bit of an afterthought, then moves over toward the counter for a refill of the pitcher. Lunchtime is about to pass, and he wants to get everything fresh while he can. "Anya, is Rasputin here?"

As if on queue, Rasputin comes out of the back hallway with his short arms carrying a gray tub. It has a wet burlap sack laid over the tub. He is smiling and softly singing a song in Russian. Something about a lost lover in a snow storm. He walks over behind the counter and sets down the tub, and starts to pull out a few sides of beef to cut up. His hands begin to work on the choice cuts.

Dante smiles, "My order is... new. We are dedicated to facing supernatural evils that most cannot. I have to leave however, I have much to attend to for this upcoming task."

Slava totally does not suspect Rasputin of having a small child in that sack. She doesn't even wonder if the stew from earlier had some mystery meat in it. What she does do is turn off the translator and pocket it. She looks at the dwarf. "That must be your friend?" she asks Pavel.

Pavel watches the translator disappear, and Dante as well. "Hmm!" Then, looking to Slava, he confirms, << Yes, that is my friend. Rasputin. If only he hadn't been hiding downstairs when a crazy mage whipped out a magic sword and challenged me to a duel! >> Most of this is shouted over his shoulder with his eyes rolled back far enough that with just a touch more, he might actually see the dwarf behind his own ears. Then they flip back forward and onto the woman. << So, when did you... depart? Russia. >>

Even though the lunch rush has died down, Rasputin's loud Russian folk song and his chopping of the steaks kind of drowns it out most of Pavel's attempt to get his attention. Anya walks over and mutters into his old ear. He chuckles a bit, finishes with his cutting and directs her to put them into the case. He turns around and with a whisper of magic, the knife, his smock and work surface are clean. He puts the knife away and walks over to the table where Pavel and Slava are sitting or standing. "Greetinks mink friend. Dis another ganker makink trouble?"

Slava is standing. They all are. << Oh, she didn't challenge you to a duel. It was more a threat to cut you down where you stood. Sat. >> She then shuts up when Rasputin approaches, waiting by Pavel's side. It seems like the thing to do.

Pavel chuckles at Slava's clarification. << Yes, yes, you're right! Though 'make my day' might have implied something else. Not sure... that seems to be an American idiom. >> He waves when Rasputin makes his way over. << No trouble with gangers, just trouble with Valeriya. Again. You know how it is, she hasn't liked me since I told her 'no' on making the golem. How're you doing, Rasputin? This is Slava," he introduces somewhat belatedly.

Rasputin shakes his head and nods, "Da, da." He double checks his hand to make sure it is clean and then extends it, in Russian he says, "Greetings, as Pavel says I'm Rasputin, owner of this deli." He smiles and tugs his beard. He continues in Russian, "Well Valeriya is an interesting indiviual, da. But she was not here, was she?"

Slava accepts Rasputin's hand and gives it a firm shake. <> She glances back at Pavel.

Towering over Rasputin by genetics only, Pavel chuckles, << No, she was here. In fact - over there. >> He points to the center of the deli. <> He points to a nearby chair where his hammer rests against the wall. << Seated and everything. She didn't take well to a polite warning given to Slava, that I think may have confirmed even more than I said in the first place. >> His dark eyebrows wiggle up and down a few times as he finally wonders, << I think that she's like the brave raiders back in Russia - they'll threaten your lives and steal your things as long as they know that their rifle is working, and that no one else in town even owns armor or a weapon more deadly than an axe for splitting wood, but they'll run with their tails between their legs as soon as anyone remotely near their own power stands up to fight. I might be able to reach that, if it weren't for the armor she casts. Not that I ever want to fight anyway. Only person I've hurt since I got here was already dead! >> Pavel lets out another laugh, and a sigh to utter into the ether, << Why do people like her have to exist? It would make all our lives easier. >>

Rasputin shakes his head and in Russian, "So it wasn't gang members, but people who behave like children nonetheless." He mutters about people with small reproductive organs in Dragonese, then goes back to Russian, "So, you are from where Pavel hails, da? In Russia?"

Slava gives a slow nod to Pavel. << Yes. I regret addressing her, but I have been warned. >> She then goes back to watching Rasputin as he talks in some kind of eerie tongue. And her without her translator ready. << Not entirely. I am not from that area. I grew up elsewhere in Russia, but moved there to work. >>

This time, it's Pavel who nods and maintains his own quiet, at least mostly. << People who behave like children who can do anything they want, yes. How is your dinosaur business going? >>

Rasputin shrugs and tugs his beard, in Russian he says, "Da, it is going well. I have unloaded most of the bulk meat a while back. I have a few choice cuts still, aging nicely. But I haven't made any plans for another trip any time soon."

Slava decides to jump on that, so she does. << If you need a driver, I am very good. I'm a fair shot with a rifle too. Or a blade. In combat or in a kitchen. >> Not the rifle, presumably. But you never know. It could be an interesting way to hit up certain dishes.

Pavel looks to both dwarf and woman, and attempts to speak to both. << We could use a good driver who doesn't like to try and knock the legs out of dinosaurs. Not that I'm complaining, really, just a bit of commentary. You use a lot of blades? >>

Rasputin chuckles and nods, his Russian slides from his mouth, "Da, da. It would be nice to get a driver who didn't like to ram things, though Jac'lyn is amazing with her pistols." he chuckles a bit, then is about so say something when Anya's voice cuts through the fun, "Boss, we need more trout, and pork chops. Will you be bringing them up before we run out completely?" Rasputin looks over his shoulder and grimaces at her and nods, "Da, da. You are right." He turns around and in Russian says, "Sorry, but I have work to be getting done." He chuckles, "I'm sure we can talk more later, da."

Slava nods to them. << I don't ram things, if I can help it. I'm not one of those lunatic wing riders. But yes, Pavel, I am good with a blade. You can't rely on monsters to stay at a convenient distance, and sometimes silver... >> She pauses, places a hand on the hilt of her vibro-sword and slowly unsheathes it two inches, showing its plated surface. << ...Is the only thing that will stop them. >> And then the lazy, lazy workers run out of various meat stuff. << It was good meeting you. >>

Pavel waves as Rasputin departs. << Good to see you for a few moments. Get a bouncer! >> is his louder suggestion. Then, at the revealing of the silver blade, he nods to Slava approvingly and then nods in the direction of his hammer, already established as his personal and portable mirror. << Silver is an excellent thing to have around, for sure. Unfortunately. You never know when it'll harm someone you like, >> he adds cryptically, with a mildly downtrodden brow.

Rasputin heads down stairs to finish some work.

Slava hesitates for a moment. And two, for the hell of it. <> She finishes her mead, and puts down the glass on the table. This time she doesn't refill it.

<< The blade, would it harm armor? >> Pavel asks quickly.

Slava nods. << Yes, it would, but it takes a long time to penetrate. It can't compete with a gun. >>

Nodding, Pavel moves over to lift his hammer back across his shoulders. << It was nice to meet you, Slava. Sorry you had to get involved in Valeriya's conflict right off the bat like that. Just be careful. There are many people around who won't hesitate to hurt a person. Not that you can't handle yourself, I'm sure. Just that it's better to avoid it. >> He starts to make his way toward the door, and stops to grin, << My girlfriend, she's in Little Russia right now, and if I don't get up there I'll be in a world of trouble! I've got a forge outside of the city, if you want to stop by. I'll see you around! >> He waves, and finally starts to exit for good.

Slava nods. <> She smiles faintly. << Ah, if she's waiting for you, it wouldn't be wise to invoke her wrath." She raises a hand in parting. << To your health. >>

Pavel waves - laughs - and is then gone.

Jan 07 09:36:27 110 PA - Conversation and Death Threats at the Deli

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