#sibling teasing

He doesn't regret his decisions, even if they were a test to determine the state of his spirit. For Mordecai, his family take priority over all else, even his own eternal rest. Being condemned to an eternity of conscious death in a rotting corpse is an acceptable price to pay for his family's overarching salvation.

Perhaps the worst part of returning to Sabbath service is the loss of his precious free time. His mother would press him to return to his childhood home rather than to the sanctuary of his apartment. Nataliya's parents are yet again busy - would continue to be for the next three weeks - and not wishing to be rude Mordecai swiftly succumbs to her request, even if he doesn't understand why Esther can't keep her company.

That first week, Mordecai is pleasantly surprised to find he's not expected to assist with the evening meal or even caring for Rose, instead being given leave to entertain Nataliya alone all day. It's decidedly awkward for a while. He learns her home is prosperous, littered with the things a young lady might indulge for entertainment; instruments, artistry, cursive calligraphy and more, all things the Heller home lacks.

They eventually settle on the shared interest in learning and borrow one of his father's thick, hard backed encyclopedia tomes. Great pains are taken to ensure it's a topic Nataliya is interested in - the natural world - before they settle down to read on the couch. Mordecai ensures there's a cushion between them, to both support the book and keep a respectable distance from the young woman, then reads aloud as she follows the words with a finger, concentrating deeply.

Here they would stay for hours, Nataliya occasionally taking over reading to practice, her broken English far better than it had been three years prior. Whenever she stumbles over a word, Mordecai patiently corrects her enunciation, content to assist her learning as he too discovers about the natural world beyond botany. It is nowhere near as interesting, but it is intriguing nonetheless how nature overcame challenges with a variety of solutions, all as unique as the last.

This isn't so vexatious, he realises as he listens to his friend narrate the particular interiors of a bird's wing. It is… almost pleasant, even if it's not silence.

He became acutely aware that Nataliya's weekly attendance at dinner isn't as innocent as he was led to believe on the second Sabbath after his return to shul. Her father turns up earlier than anticipated, insisting on walking Mordecai back to his apartment before taking Nataliya home, even leaving her behind at the Heller house to do so.

The uneasy feeling that settles in his gut as they leave turns out to be entirely logical, for as soon as they are alone in the city streets, the questions begin. The Russian expat asks all about his profession, prospects and ambitions, even asking for his salary. He's clipped and to the point, accent heavy in his 'w's like his daughter, but the man holds himself with an almost regal air that's immensely intimidating.

At only sixteen and up to his neck in questionable practices thanks to work, marriage has yet to enter his mind, and likely never would without encouragement. With how he conducts himself around even men of the same age, Mordecai simply isn't interested in making connections, content with having family and hobbies to occupy his time. It's an immense oversight on his part not to have a alternate explanation lined up and have to improvise on the spot.

Of course, everything he offers is fabricated; his own family unaware of his true trade, Mordecai is not about to tell a relative stranger his deepest sins. It highlights a glaring flaw in the tudexo's current status; he's not prepared anything to explain away significant funds from a managerial post, his lies hinging on a lack of due diligence by inquiring parties.It's an immense oversight on his part not to have a alternate explanation lined up and have to improvise on the spot. 

Should he ever be arrested, even a bad cop could see past his fallacies within an hour, leaving Mordecai in deep trouble with law enforcement and once forced to provide the truth, his employer. After all, Elijah Katz is little more than a name pulled from thin air; with no history, no papers and an immaculate appearance in the world five years prior, should anyone try to dig into his past, it would swiftly become obvious his alias is little more than a cover. A sloppy one at that

Mordecai has never been so grateful to lock his apartment door and sink into the ensuing silence, but his mind is not at peace. Katz has been adequate, yet he needs to develop a substantial alias, one that can stand up to the scrutiny of not only law enforcement, but the very criminals he works for, to ensure his family are kept as far from his dubious doings as possible. 

It also keeps his mind off the troubling prospect that his and Nataliya's parents are conspiring behind their backs to bring their children together. Matchmaking. 

The next week is spent researching and creating a far more convincing alias, stealing the identity of a dead boy from his own congregation and repurposing it for his own use. Isaiah Fitzgerald, a young man who died barely two months before Mordecai approached the launderette in search of work, no known photographs and family moved out of New York. The perfect candidate, credible enough to hide behind since Katz came into existence so soon after his records end.

Now on the third Sabbath, he and Nataliya share a book on the couch while Rose plays on the rug by the hearth, scouring an encyclopedia of North American birds. Dinner still warm in their stomachs and the fire comforting in the cool, fall air, they study the Barn Swallow, a species they spotted on the way home from congressional services that morning. While he isn't artistic himself, he studies a fine illustration between blocks of text with reverence, for it's intricately detailed. 

Alas, time has once again raced by. A firm knock echoes off the front door, rousing both adolescents from focus at once. Green and yellow sclera dart up towards the hall, then fall on one another, an unspoken sadness the day has ended in their resigned features. Mordecai pulls the hardback into his lap and marking their place with a mangled strip of paper, carefully closes the book, then sets it aside to return to his father's collection later.

It's a routine they've repeated a few times now; they'll stand awkwardly together a moment or two, offer a simple farewell then head for the hall, where his mother will be making small talk with her father. They'll then part ways for another week on the steps to his home, though Mordecai will wait there for a minute, as Nataliya always glances over a shoulder before they turn the corner, raising a hand one last time in farewell before she's out of sight. 

He always returns the gesture for politeness. Now, he's not sure if he was accidentally reinforcing their parent's ideals, but it's a dilemma to ponder another day. For now, he slides off the sofa and waits for Nataliya to do the same, ready for their awkward farewell. "It seems our time is up," he states almost apologetically, watching as she too slides to her feet and stands just a foot from him. "I look forward to spending time with you next week."

"Me as vell," she returns, a whisper almost swallowed by a crackle from the fire. A timid girl by nature, it's not unusual she won't meet his gaze as deft fingers brush over the thick strands of her braid. It would be almost endearing, if it didn't make their farewells last twice as long as necessary, but he tries to be patient until with flushed cheeks, her gaze finally meets his. "Thank for time. Nice time."

Despite reservations around their relationship, he manages a small smile and a nod. "It is a pleasure. Father has quite a compendium of texts to peruse. Perhaps next week we-"

Nataliya leans closer and cutting off, he leans away on instinct. All that achieves is forcing the girl to take a step closer. Their chests brush, her warm breath ghosting across his cool skin as the usually shy girl presses plump lips to the startled tom's cheek. Contact is brief, half a second at most, before she steps back with blazing red cheeks, averted eyes and a gentle voice. "See next veek, Mordecai."

She leaves the room, but Mordecai is frozen, leaning back ever so slightly instead of standing straight, eyes wide and pupils constricted by adrenaline. Large ears face forward, tail fluffed and hackles raised in surprise, arms bent at the elbow and extended as if he'd intended to restrain the girl by the biceps on her approach, only to second guess the action at the last moment. 

At the hands of the mob, Mordecai has grown accustomed to being touched without consent. Before taking Jimbo's life, they seems to devise great joy in manhandling him around when delivering ledgers. The frequency and severity of their unsolicited bodily interference lessened greatly since taking the managerial role, but he's less reactive to strange touch these days regardless, mostly taking them in stride.

Today is not one of those days. Today, Mordecai Heller is perturbed.

What… was that? Logically, the question is defunct; he isn't naive enough not to recognise a kiss. What he doesn't quite understand is the connotations behind it, when he's not tried to engage Nataliya in such a way. Did I lead her to believe I wanted that? Is it simply a side effect of our parents' efforts, influencing her actions? What should I do about it?

He doesn't want their friendship to become something else. Mordecai has no current interest in romance. Honestly, he's not sure he ever will, but  now in particular, with his associations in the city's underbelly and a murder still fresh on his mind, the prospect of courting feels like a farce. If anything, all the process would achieve would be putting Nataliya in danger should his employers take offense in the future, something he isn't sure he could live with if she got hurt... or worse.

The click of the front door snaps him out of an internal spiral of worry, giving him enough time to regain some sense of composure before his mother comes looking for her absent son. She enters the room with a worried frown just after he corrects his posture, arms folded across her chest as she studies the room. When it doesn't explain why her son didn't accompany his friend to the door, she meets his gaze. "Not seeing Nataliya out today, then? Did you have a fight?"

Before he can answer, Mordecai is sharply reminded that Rose is in the room when she pipes up. "They was kissing."

"Were," he corrects his little sister's poor grammar without thinking, then startles as what she said sinks in. Looking up at his mother and processing her scowl, Mordecai's hackles rise beneath his collar and he raises his hands defensively. Already imagining the repercussions for doing such a thing with a mere acquaintance he tries to explain. Hurriedly. "We weren't kissing, Mother. We were reading-"

"Until you kissed," Rose interjects without looking up from a sketch she's been working on all afternoon. In contrast to the childish squiggles she used to produce, the young lady has developed some talent over the years. If she weren't actively condemning him to a beating, he might have offered to appraise it as often requested. His only through then however is throwing it on the fire. "Right before she left, you kissed. I saw it."

Mother raises a brow, gaze disbelieving, boring into his very being like the eyes at the church he imagines on his back at every congregation. Dark ears fold back. "I promise we were not kissing," he reaffirms beneath her scathing gaze. "I was preparing to accompany her to the threshold as usual when she… Well, I suppose she kissed my cheek… but it was not how Rose describes it! I didn't request nor condone a kiss! You have my word!"

As if destined for future comedic excellence, Esther choses that precise moment to peer into the room, a devilish smile on deceptively innocent lips. "Mordy's been kissing girls? Scandalous."

Mother may have refrained from beating him for insolence after learning Nataliya initiated the kiss, but it did not arrest her tirade regarding their relationship and intentions, plus a lecture on the proper way to court a girl should he decide to reciprocate, if he wanted her parents to agree the courtship. She spoke like it were already decided, confirming suspicion they had indeed been discussing matching the pair, and the whole evening was suffocatingly intense.

Mordecai is relieved to return to the silence of his apartment that night. Kicking off his shoes, he strips down to his vest and boxers and goes straight to bed, collapsing into the soft sheets with a groan. With his social and spiritual lives taking unexpected turns recently, he's grateful that work has been far less tumultuous since his promotion, at least.