Inbox for TLV

[bartenderbitch]

"Yeah, yeah, leave a message and I'll get back to you at some point."

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[reargunner]

You still owe me a magic show.

[Amused.

He curls his arm carefully around the demon's head to nudge him in closer, giving him a dark and quiet spot to tuck himself into if he wants. Kind of like a cat might.]

Haven't forgotten. You got a stage name to go with it?

[bartenderbitch]

I wasn't that good at it...

[Says the complainer as he absolutely takes that offer to tuck himself into the offered dark spot, grumbling quietly to himself as he does so. How absolutely dare him right now.]

Nah, stage names were fuckin' stupid, just used my regular-ass name. Sounded exotic enough to most folks that were there, anyway.

[reargunner]

[Grumbly cat noises. Adorable.]

You gonna say what that name was, or just be vague as fuck about it until one of us changes the subject?

[He's not gonna push it but the topic is right there. And, well, maybe the whole names thing is an issue in the forefront of his mind right now.]

[bartenderbitch]

[The most grumbly and offended of cats at this moment.]

... Nikolai. [It's more muffled muttered than anything else he's said thus far, it sounds so weird in his mouth after all these years.]

[reargunner]

Nikolai?

[Muffled and grumbly as it was, he picked it out. He gives one of those large ears another gentle scritch.]

Nice. 'S a good name.

[bartenderbitch]

[He wants to keep being grumbly about everything, but it's hard when he's getting ear scritches of all things.]

Don't fuckin' lie to me like that, it's generic as shit. [Is it, though?] Named me after some fuckin' ruler back in the motherland or whatever as if I'd care.

[reargunner]

... You're talking to a guy called Alexei.

[Cain rolls his eyes. As if Alexei isn't one of the most common and generic Russian names there is.]

At least neither of us are called fucking Ivan.

[bartenderbitch]

[Okay, admittedly, that does actually get a laugh out of him. It could be worse.]

Guess so. Don't think I'd suit Ivan, got too much brains for that. [HUSK, BAD.] The most generic as shit Russian names club, the members being us.

[reargunner]

[He quiets a moment, shifts a bit, then snorts out a laugh.]

I was nearly called Sasha. I'll take Alexei any day of the week.

[It gets a little less strange every time he says it out loud.]

Can you fucking imagine?

[bartenderbitch]

[A little less strange for him, perhaps, but Husk's still not quite sure he likes the idea of his old human name. After all, he's not that anymore, right? Nah.]

See, when I think Sasha I think of some skinny kid I could throw over my shoulder like it's nothing. So you absolutely ain't a Sasha.

[reargunner]

Never been the skinny kid anyone could throw over their shoulder. [He tilts his head slightly.]

... Well...

[Then he moves, reaching over Husk to the drawer in the table next to the bed. He pulls pulls out a small box, taps his fingers on the lid, then opens it.

There are a few things inside. A couple of folded pieces of paper, some little trinkets, and a few photographs.]

... Not since my sister could still do it, I guess.

[bartenderbitch]

[Somehow he's not surprised that Cain was never one of those types, but he does blink and looks up curiously to see what he's up to and really has no idea what he's up to until he's actually opening up the small box. His attention switches between the box and Cain's face, ears pushed forward to further push the curiosity narrative.]

Yeah? I was an only kid, so I can't really relate on that front... [Probably for the better, when he thinks about his childhood, but that doesn't matter at this moment.]

[reargunner]

I have an older sister. Calina.

[He tilts the photo in his hand so Husk can see it. It's of three people huddled together on the steps of a house in the snow. One of them is clearly Cain, though quite young, along with a slightly older girl and a woman who is obviously their mother. They're all smiling like someone just said something to make them laugh.]

And that's my mom. Ulyana. [Husk may note there that the name he gave - Alexei Ulovich - comes from his mother, not his father.]

I remember this being taken.

[bartenderbitch]

[Slowly he nods in response, looking at the picture and tilting his head somewhat as he regards it. It's... nice, in a way, to know that things were relatively normal by appearances. At least at some point for Cain, but that was how it always went, wasn't it? Things were normal and then suddenly the rug was pulled out from under you and you had to struggle to get back to some semblance of normal.

He doesn't comment on the name thing, at least not for now, though he keeps it in the back of his mind.]

All of you looked happy back then, normal childhood? [He... suspects, at least. But he's merely prodding at him to get him to continue on with his thoughts about everything, even while curling his tail around Cain's waist with a comforting bit of pressure.]

[reargunner]

[He huffs a soft breath out through his nose.]

Yeah. Colony life is... it's fucking hard. They have us shoved out in buttfuck nowhere and it's cold all the time, no prospects for much of anything except working the factories.

[Cain's voice trails off and he rubs his thumb gently against the photograph.]

I was really young when our dad died. It was an accident, they said. My mom, she tried really fucking hard with me, but...

[Shrug.]

[bartenderbitch]

[Oof, that... sounds like a story he's heard before, even if it wasn't his own. The early 1900s weren't exactly sunshine and rainbows, especially for immigrants from what he could remember. He shifts slowly to nuzzle into his shoulder with a low purr, just trying to make him feel a little better about everything at least.]

Sounds like some utter bullshit, but guess times didn't really change with the higher ups fucking over everyone below them. And... I think you turned out fine, sometimes you gotta go through a rough patch before you come out with the good from it all. [Ironic, considering how Husk acts on the daily when it comes to his own self, but he's more content not looking at that statement closer. It's not about himself, after all.]

Better than running off thinking you're gonna find your fortune.

[reargunner]

... I went to prison, Husk.

[Had he mentioned that? God, he'd take running off to find his fortune over the shitty decisions he made that led him to that conclusion.]

I was fucking seventeen.

[bartenderbitch]

[IF HE DID, HE DID NOT REALLY CONNECT THE DOTS, CAIN. He goes quiet for the longest moment, burying his face back into him with a low grumbling noise. Okay, that was stupid, he tried to do something and it was stupid.]

Fucking forget I said anything.

[reargunner]

[Cain's quiet for a bit, not trying to shift Husk away or move away from him, and after a minute he curls a hand against his ear again and rubs it.]

I was stupid.

[Sigh.]

I did some stupid shit and got myself in trouble too many times. Petty shit. They got me on jumped up trespassing charges, underage drinking, and called my sister's rifle in as an illegal firearm. [His voice is soft, level, quiet.]

... I was bored, and restless, and stupid.

[bartenderbitch]

[Luckily it... helps, that bit of contact, to know that he didn't entirely fuck up everything in one swift motion. And he lets him talk, the ear not being rubbed flicking forward to listen to every words. Petty shit, sounded about right from what he knew of the legal system in general.]

If it helps any, most kids are pretty fucking stupid when bored. I'm honestly surprised I never did get arrested for the shit I did. Helped with bootlegging, ran piddly-ass errands for mobsters, conned a fuckton of people to be able to survive... [He shrugs in turn, nothing was ever quite as easy as it seemed, really.]

How long did they sentence you for?

[reargunner]

[Cain takes a breath, holds it for a moment, then lets it out.]

Six months for the trespassing. Five years for the illegal firearms possession. Another five years for resisting arrest, bumped up 'cause I broke a cop's nose. Not to be served concurrently. I cussed the judge out when they brought me in.

[He slips the photo of his family back into the box and shuffles the other items inside around.]

And I had time added on the inside for fighting, mouthing off at the wardens, participating in riots, and nearly killing another inmate.

[bartenderbitch]

Damn... [He lets the word out in a hiss, that seemed like a hell of a lot of time even for all of that, if you asked him. People that have done worse have gotten way less as far as he's aware and he's shifting a little so he can look at Cain properly, head tilting in silent question before he speaks again.]

More of the "stupid kid" bit or was it that bad on the inside? Ain't judging either way, just... curious, I guess. [Though he'll let him change the subject if he wants, of course, but this isn't quite the thing he expected to hear from him.]

[reargunner]

Prison on the colonies is... it's bad.

[He shrugs. Not that he has anything to compare it to, but he knows it's bad. His voice is still steady, but... distant. A little cold.]

New Volga Correctional Facility. They don't separate you out by severity, or whatever. I fought to make sure everyone knew not to fuck with me, 'cause the only way you get out in one piece is by stepping on everyone else.

[bartenderbitch]

[Oh, he knows what that tone of voice is and he's just going to wiggle his way out of the arm hold and ear rubbing to squirm his way into his lap and face him now. Which is still awkward in the end of things, but he doesn't really care at the moment.]

Well, that shit don't matter now. You're here and you ain't going back to that fucking shithole. What happened then, what you did back then doesn't fucking mean shit as that ain't you now, yeah? [Pot. Kettle.]

[reargunner]

[He blinks. Meets Husk's eyes without hesitation.]

What I did - everything I've done - isn't something I can just ignore.

[And he's always known that, as much as the feeling ebbs and grows depending on how he feels and how close the memory of everything is.]

But— [The box snaps closed with a smart click and he puts it aside, sitting up and resting both hands on the demon's thighs.] It's not here, or now, and... I don't have to do any of it here.