#nadz & maks

[maksimkurylenko]

FOR: @nadezhdaxyuryeva WHEN: September, 24' WHERE: Maksim's apartment.

"I'd offer you something to drink, but my fridge is about as deserted as Aurélie's eyes at the end of the after-party." His easy grin was one he kept for those on the same side as him, even if it was sometimes rather contentious. "make yourself at home, sorry it's not..." using his hand to gesture to the mix-match room and things he'd found for cheap in the charity shops outside of London.

Who knew London Charity shops charged designer rates. Fucking ridiculous.

But the question still remained, his brows drawn. "I gotta' ask...what the fuck are you doing here? At my place?" Because trust him, there were far better places the two of them could've met.

[maksimkurylenko]

Looking up from the pack in hand, he couldn't top the fly smirk that curled the corner of his lips. "Am I that transparent?" although, he knew it was because Nadez had known him long enough to determine that his habits didn't change often enough to warrant the need to assume otherwise. "Three." but he was glad for the offer, finding himself away from the riff-raff...the cretins that'd found themselves in attendance also. "I've had worse tent partners...you?"

"There are few whom I only care how they think of me." How others perceived her was of no concern to the Russian. Those who knew her well, those she allowed to do so, had the privilege to a certain side of her. "What pack number is that?" Eyes flicker down to his hand then astern to his gaze. Subject to situations int his manner did not do well for most, it was a ticking time bomb ready to go implode, and for someone of her position, she loathed the unknown. "How is tent life treating you?" Slightly interested how the faired the last two nights.

[maksimkurylenko]

Maksim wasn’t stupid. Not always, anyway. Nadezhda didn’t just show up without a reason. Not here, and definitely not now. Yet, using his hand, he gestured towards the seat next to him. His place wasn't big, or anything to marvel at: and a mismatch of complete and utter carnage told only one thing...

It was very Maksim.

The appearance of the clear bottle peaked his already booming interest. Pushing to lean forward, forearms finding the tops of his legs, gaze trailing from the alcohol back to Nadya. “Not in the mood for people?” Maks echoed, brow raising. “C'mon, Nadya. You could’ve avoided people anywhere. But you came here.” Although the twitch of his lip gave away his true feelings about it. A small, almost undetectable smile. He was fucking honoured, but he covered it just as quickly as it'd appeared.

"Fuck it," pushing to stand as he walked over to the cupboard that kept the glasses.

With all that transpired, Nadezhda made it a point to check in on Kosta's family, a vigilant determination to keep what he had left in one piece, considering the retaliation that would unquestionably venture in their direction.

The reference was not lost on her, an unfortunate tragedy that played favourable on their end, a nuisance no longer their issue, the timing perhaps undesirable. At the end, a win was still a win.

Indifferent hues glance around his home, noting the inconsistency in any form of coherent theme, that she disregarded it simply to keep from expressing her offhanded comments about her distaste for his interior design.

"It's a good thing I came prepared." A hand reaches into her bag to pull out a bottle of vodka, placing the bottle in the middle of the coffee table before sinking back into the couch. "I'm not in the mood for people."

[maksimkurylenko]

"Okay." is all Maksim deigns to answer, watching as Nadezhda turns around with the drinks in hand: he was in the poor tent. For him — nothing was free. That meant he was taking anything that was offered. "But you do know some people would find how you talk to people...discerning." already rooting around in his pocket for a smoke, unable to stop the habit of getting through a pack or two a day when he was forced into situations like this. For the children, he said, but no matter how many times he repeated it...it didn't make him want to stay. Duty, unfortunately, called. Father's orders.

where: the bar when: night three who: @maksimkurylenko

"You are going to have drinks with me." She turns towards Maksim with a tray of shots, ready to finally enjoy herself on the last night, no longer tied to the ogre.