Mikhail Barton

Chelsea was waiting for her coffee, jumping up when her name was called. “Thanks!” She chimed happily, sipping it before dropping a tip in the jar. She always tipped well when her coffee was made correctly, even if it was after the second time around. She knew how difficult actually dealing with people could be. She loved doing it but sometimes they could be nasty and dealing with people who were lacking on their caffiene probalby made it worse at times. That just didn’t sound pleasant.

Mikhail was completely caught off guard when a woman came up behind him, the surprise causing him to squeak again. But then he took a deep breath, reminding himself that everything would be okay, that he was panicking for no reason, as it was just a computer, and turned to the woman. "You know how to fix," he gestured at the computer screen, confusion clearly etched on his features, "this?" For a second he wondered if she would make it worse, but he'd heard bad things about screens turning blue. And he certainly didn't know where to begin to make things go back to normal again. So he nodded his consent slightly, sliding further into the booth and pushing the computer towards here, so she could do as she would, if she was going to try and fix it.

Anna listened and then thought quite dramatically over his words. That would make sense… ice… snow… would make them last longer. That was for sure!! “I don’t think I’d want to live in an igloo anyway! I like hot chocolate i wouldn’t want to melt my house!” She laughed at the idea of that. Plus she liked warm, snow was fun but only if you could go inside and warm up later. “Yay!” She clapped a little over enthusiastically but it was completely genuine. “What do you want to do? Build a fort? Igloo? Snow ball fight…?” She eyed him a moment. “Do you want to build a snow man??”

"Melting your house would be awful," he agreed, nose crinkling at the thought, "And you'd freeze your cocoa, too!" Mikhail liked hot cocoa. He had a soft spot for warm food and drinks, just like he'd always been fond of the cold, icy weather. "A snowman?" he asked, thinking for a moment as she eyed him. For a second, he tried to remember the last time he'd built one, failing to figure out when that had been. So, with a flourish, he took of the fedora on his head, holding it out to Anna, "I have a hat if you know where we can get a scarf? And if you'll remind me how to, I don't know the last time I built someone out of snow."

"Russian? That explains the awesome name…" She laughed, not really wanting to dwell on her sad attempt at a joke that sounded  more like she was flirting than anything. Which wasn’t intentional but the fact that she was actually sort of… interested. And she seemed to have forgotten how to have a crush on someone and not act like an idiot around them. At least, in her eyes. She felt like she was being awkward… 

"I'm bad at making choices," he looked at from under a fringe of hair that fell to his face when he glanced up, "And I don't even know what I'm choosing means!" She should pick for him, he was adamant about that. Sophie was fun. And seemed to know what was going on regarding the whole birthday thing. He was currently very clueless. But he forgot about that, for the time being, when she sat next to him, and put the box between them. His fingers trailed along the seam of the wrapping, carefully finding the taped part. The wrapping paper was pretty, he didn't want to destroy it. Carefully undoing it, he unwrapped the present, not paying attention to the gift itself until the wrapper was neatly laid open.

Sophie took his phone gently, offering her own to him, set up on the new contact screen already. She quickly typed her name into his phone and added her number. Glancing over at him she grinned, tapping the ‘take a picture button to add a contact photo. She snapped a picture and giggled before finally handing the phone back to him. “Now you’ll know which I am.” Not that she thought he’d need a reminder, she just thought it was amusing to put a selfie in someone else’s phone when she calls. “Sure! I’m free most of the time so that would be great.” She nodded. Happy that he actually seemed to want to do this. It’d been a while since someone had made her stomach flip like this. The butterflies hadn’t seemed to go away over the courseof this conversation.

Mikhail only took a few seconds to put in his name and number, handing it back to her in time to look up and see Sophie taking a selfie for his phone. A brief debate over whether or not he should do the same ended up in his picking not to, as always convinced that the camera hated him, and his confidence wasn't always the highest. So he just took his phone back, smiling at Sophie when she said that. "I only know one Sophie," he pocketed the phone, though his words weren't a complaint of having a picture of her. The smile widened when she told him he could call, "You are too?" That was nice. He wasn't the only one who wasn't very busy. It would be nice to have a friend he could spend time with, for once, and Sophie, she was nice. She made him all smiley inside and out, which was unusual, but nice. The nerves were only probably from a lack of social interactions, and those butterflies would go away once he got used to it, right? "So... can I call you tonight then? Maybe?"

Her brow twitched as the boy stuttered. Why was everyone so damn timid in this town? And people that were confident had horrible personalities. Save for a special few people, the town was a complete bore. She also wished that the blushing boy would snap back at her, give her some excitement for the day. She gave him a slight and brief once over. Timid and short. “Whatever,” she spoke soft. With the flick of her wrist, she dismissed him and turned in her seat, resting back with an arm crossed over her stomach as she sipped her latte. She stared out the window, going over the lines she had memorized without looking at the booklet. 

Mikhail blushed harder when he brow twitched, picking up the drink he'd had in front of him and taking a sip, to hide the color in his cheeks behind the opaque ceramic of his mug. But then he put it down, going back to looking at the window, though he made certain that this portion of it was considerably further away from the girl. He meant to go back to his thinking, he really did, but once pulled out of his thoughts he found it hard to delve back in, sometimes, and Mikhail found his gaze being pulled towards the girl again, for no reason other than a strange, irrational hope that maybe if he kept looking where he had been, he'd be able to find where his thoughts had left off. Only that meant he appeared to be staring, again.

Ralph smiled a little in response, then grabbed the couch from the middle and held it up with the legs sticking out sideways. He was trying to help people more in the hopes that that would change his reputation a bit, from “The stupid, low-life Carpenter kid” to “the helpful Carpenter kid who owns a dog and is self-supporting”, He figured that the more he volunteered, the more people would want him to work for them.

Mikhail watched, not sure whether to be amazed or horrified when the man picked up the furniture as if it weighted nothing it all. He should be impressed, really he should, but a part of him, the part that always seemed to echo his father's thoughts, begrudged the man for easily doing what Mikhail could not. But he shook off the feeling, just remembering to be grateful that he wouldn't have to break his back trying to carry something more than twice his weight, even though his weight wasn't very much at all. "Just to the curb," he told the man. The couch was meant to be thrown out, he didn't need it anymore. Someone else could take it, for all he cared, or not. He just needed it gone.

The Help? || Ralph and Mikhail

As always, there were things in his large house that needed moving, to be thrown out, or just relocated. It used to be an easier task, Mikhail's father strong enough to do things himself. But now, with him gone, it was more problematic. It wasn't that Mikhail wasn't strong, he was, but only for his size. And standing at five foot five, not any stronger than someone his height should be, but not weak, heavy lifting was hard.

She typed something quickly into the computer then looked up at him. “Okay then. What’s the name?” She smiled. She really didn’t have the energy to convince someone to rejoin or even change their mind at this point. It was almost closing time and she was tired. “And can I get a reason? This is more for a future reference type thing. We don’t like our members unhappy and want to make the experience as good as possible even if they stay for only short time. So if it’s due to disinterest or lack of time then that’s different than it being because we didn’t have the equipment you needed or a certain class.” She paused slightly. “Does that make sense?”

"Mikhail Barton," he said his name before his brow furrowed. That was wrong. It hadn't been his membership. "Uh- I mean... Gregory Rasputten. That's my father." He nodded slightly, understanding the reason for them wanting to know his reason. "He died," he answered simply, a bit saddened by the fact, as always, but not bothered or anything. He was used to it by now. "It's hard to come work out when you're dead. I don't know how he felt about the gym, but there's not point in a membership anymore. So um... yeah. Thanks."

"I suppose it does." She gave him a smile a shrugged, she liked magic, sure. It was simple child’s play in her mind though. When she thought of things that made her happy she thought of nature; trees, birds, animals and plants. Anything that grew or lived in nature put a smile on her face. She was far less interested in silly things like magic tricks, but if it made this man happy than she’d keep a smile on her face just for him. An impressed smile came over her face while she nodded at him, "That is, do I get to know how you did it now?" 

"A magician never reveals his secrets," Mikhail shook his head slightly. He rarely did, and on those few occasions it was only to his father, who later scoffed at the simple illusion, despite the joy it brought Mikhail. He'd learned not to share his secrets from those disappointments. It was easier to captivate an audience if they didn't know how a trick was done. So he kept his audiences in the dark, these days.

Sophie didn’t mind the hug honestly, in fact it was quite warm and comfy. For once she wasn’t completely engulfed in someone’s hug. Which, wasn’t always bad. But it was nice to hug someone and feel a bit more on equal ground. Plus he kind of smelled good, which was weird because guys didn’t usually smell that great. Well, not the ones at the bar at least. Not that Sophie was remotely interested in befriending them. Most were sort of rude to be honest.

"Russian blood saves the day again," he grinned at her when she wrinkled her nose. There wasn't much that Mikhail knew about his birth parents, but his father had shown him their names. Being that his father was Russian, and had taught him enough about "the Motherland," he knew that his birthparents were that. It was the reason why he didn't get cold. That was what he was convinced of, anyways.

"Okay, good! You’ll have to." She had a horrible attention span when it came to cooking. And she just had the worst track record as well. Accidentally blowing things up or setting them on fire the very few times she’d tried to cook. Her eyes widened and she giggled. "Oh- yes! That would probably help…. how about we give each other our numbers? So we both have them?" She shrugged. It seemed like a good enough solution and it would ensure that whoever wanted to get together first could do it in there own time. And that she wouldn’t chicken out because that was also a bit likely. He was cute. She couldn’t guarantee keeping her cool once they weren’t in the same room.

"That's smart," he nodded, unlocking his phone and pulling up the new contact screen before offering it to her. He usually would have asked her last name, but there were so few contacts on his phone that it didn't matter. Most of them were his father's old coworkers, friends, employees, and the like, who he'd known forever. It wouldn't be hard to spot the one new person. "I... um... Do you want me to call you later? So we can set something up?" Soon would be nice. He liked soon. Mikhail didn't have much to do with his time, especially at the moment, and hanging out with Sophie would be fun. He hadn't known her very long, but he liked her. A lot. She was fun to be around. And good luck.

"Snow bricks!" She giggled, before going quiet and listening to him talk about the difference. Nodding, intently listening to his descriptions and the reasoning as to why they were different. "But igloos last longer, don’t they? Maybe… I mean Eskimos live in them right?" She tilted her head, realizing after she said it that shew wasn’t so sure on that fact. Sure the TV said it… but that doesn’t mean that it was true. But books said it too, so surely it was sort of true…? Maybe a little? She really hadn’t a clue but either way if they were even rumored to live in them than certainly they were built to last. “Do you wanna build one with me? Snow fort or Igloo… I don’t care! I just wanna play in the snow!” She giggled.

"If you build them right," he nodded, "supposedly. But I think the blocks are partially ice, or something like that. It's not regular packed snow, as far as I heard. I think, anyway. I'm not an eskimo, no one ever taught me how to live in an igloo." It just seemed logical, or he would have tried to build one and live in it all winter by now. A slight smile appeared on his face when he heard her request. No one had ever played in the snow with him before. He was used to it being just him. It was supposed to be... fun to have more people around. "I want to," he grinned at her, hoping she actually wanted to, "I like the snow. It's my favorite!"

Poca examined the deck of cards for a moment, carefully running her fingers over them before slipping the card six away from the end. “You seem very happy.” She commented while giving him a small smile in return to his large one. “Do you know something that I don’t? Or are you just really excited to do this trick?” Poca turned back to her drink and took a sip before letting her eyes fall back onto the cards in his hand, waiting to see his next move. 

"Magic makes me happy, doesn't it make you happy?" It was a simple answer, but it was true. Getting a trick right was exciting, and he was optimistic today. That was a good enough reason for joy. "Okay, so," he rolled up his jacket sleeves, grin never dissipating, "Nothing up my sleeve." He shuffled the deck, once, twice, three times, to prove that it was blended well, wrists occasionally snapping as he maneuvered the deck. Then he flipped a card off the top, presenting it to her, all but certain that it was the card she had picked, "Is this it?"

"Wherever you want," he confirmed, meeting her eyes, a small grin playing over his features. He'd get it right this time. He hadn't quite mastered the trick, but he was confident enough, knowing he could do it for an audience. He had to be able to do it, how else would he become a master magician? They could do simple card tricks with ease. Closing his eyes, so she could put it wherever she wanted without his peeking, so he didn't "cheat," he continued to smile, waiting, hoping for the best.

She giggled when someone actually responded, used to talking to paintings or suits of armor. Of course she had the helpers… but really they didn’t really pay her much attention unless she was asking something of them. She was far too talkative for them to deal with an work so they just opted to work. She blinked at his works, tilting her head. “What’s the difference? isn’t an igloo just a fort made out of snow?” She looked down at the snow, wondering if it had any answers on the subject. 

“Not at all,” he shook his head, confused by that, “See, with an igloo, it’s made out of like… bricks. And you need to make them, and put them down just right, or it doesn’t help. And a fort’s open, anyways, it doesn’t need to be as stable, with an igloo everything will just fall in on you if you mess up. Not fun.” Mikhail was an only child, and his father wasn’t one to play. He’d never been very social. But the winter months were his favorites even without friends to have snowball fights, and he’d played in the snow until he couldn’t feel his face in the past. He’d tried igloos. They’d never work out well.