steelartisan | (no subject)

(no subject)

Piotr is seated on one of the rocks out by the lake. He likes the snow and the cold. It feels like childhood.

"No, I don't."

"But, I know I would want to know. If I was a father. That's why I told you. You are her father."

"Even though she does not like it, you do matter."

"...let me guess." Destruction is looking at Piotr like he's a particularly interesting orangutan in the monkey house at the zoo. "She likes you because you're persistent?"

"No, she always had to chase me. I tried for years to get away." He smiles to himself at the memory then shakes his head.

"I've left her. I've broken her heart. I've died. We've known each other ten years."

"She is home."

Then, he shrugs.

"I don't know why she likes me, myself. I don't care."

The monkey house expression isn't going away. If anything, it's intensifying. "Can I suggest that you find somebody else to confess to?" Beat. "In that way where it's not really a suggestion?"

Piotr gives him a look. It's...amused.

In that moment, he can picture a much smaller man in a cowboy hat in Destruction's place.

"Vodka would make a much better companion, yes." He slides off the rock.

"Consider yourself lucky that I'm taking that as a compliment." Destruction says this with a reasonable amount of cheer.

He has that small smile again and waves as he heads back up the path toward the bar.

"It is, tovarisch! Good evening!"

"...yeah." Destruction is bemused -- and then amused.

'Comrade'.

They are not comrades. They will never be comrade. It doesn't matter who you ask (hello, Joe McCarthy) -- Destruction is not now and has never been a Communist.

"See you around."

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