Communal Chai

There wasn't any tea there, not even an empty mug. And the door was open. Something beautiful was coming from inside.

Standing at the door for a moment, just to listen, he finally knocked on the door lightly. He probably didn't look nearly his best, sweaty and covered in dust, but he wasn't sure he would ever see her again, otherwise. He peeked in slightly, and immediately took notice of the walls. That was... different. Catching a wisp of blonde hair, he didn't dare look anymore, afraid he would seem a bit... creepy.

"Hello...? I can take that mg for you..." Maybe she was just new, and didn't know her way around. Seemed unlikely, if anyone was new, he would have heard about it.

So caught up in her work she was, that she didn't even hear when he knocked. She didn't even stop singing quietly to herself. It wasn't until he said something, that she, caught by surprise, jumped with a small 'eep', dropping her marker.

At first, she was paralyzed with surprise, like a rabbit or a doe right before darting for safety. Slowly, she peeked over her shoulder, then turned around entirely, staring at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Getting up, she leaned over to pick up the empty mug next to her and stepped her way over to him cautiously. Literally, one had to be cautious walking in the room; neither of the sisters were particularly tidy with their things.

Once she reached him, she stood there for a moment, fiddling nervously with the mug before holding it out to him. She seemed to be too shy to look up, but she did manage to squeak out a tiny, "Thank you..."

When she turned around, it was the first good look at her he'd gotten since that morning-- which hadn't been nearly enough. H couldn't feel it himself, but he was smiling a bit involuntarily-- he'd stopped breathing involuntarily, as well. Remembering his faculties when she held the mug out, he took it slowly, as if he was afraid to scare her away.

"I... haven't seen you before," He began quietly, "If you want more tea, I can make some for you," He was terrible at it, but, "I don't know how you drink it, so you can put in whatever you want..." She didn't seem too thrilled-- she wasn't even looking at him. "Or... I could just leave another cup with you... If that's what you want." He ran a hand through his hair to shake off his nerves and tried to smile again-- it was too nervous to be natural, this time.

"My name's Cosim, by the way... You-- you have a really beautiful voice... not that I was listening... the whole time."

Oh no, he was talking to her--how was she supposed to respond? At least he was quiet, and non-confrontational. Otherwise she might have broken down into sobbing.

Playing with the hem of her nightgown (a nervous habit of hers--and perhaps not the best one when it involved a dress, rather than a shirt, as it involved pulling said hem up a bit just to reach it), she answered shyly, "Thank you... A-are you the person who makes it every day?" She did wonder about the people she lived with and yet never saw, but she only ever caught glimpses of them, and vice-versa.

Blushing when he complimented her singing (honestly, she didn't know if it was any good, but she'd gotten accustomed to singing to herself, to fill in the silence, when she was alone in her abandoned city), she looked up briefly and then back down again. "I'm Sofia...Rostislavivna." Quietly, as if ashamed, she corrected, "Dr. Rostislavivna." 

"Well, no, but..." He involuntarily seemed to stoop down lower, as if he could get in her line of sight, then. "I can put some out for you, every day... if you'd like that..."

Maybe doctors had long hours? Maybe she worked at night, which was why she had nightgowns on during the day? The name sounded familiar to him, though he didn't remember it being connected with any kind of medical doctor. "It's really nice to meet you, uh..." He pushed on the door gently, to open it more, and smiled again. "So... do you want to have some tea now, or...?" Or should he just leave her be? If it was that, he hoped he could.

Oh...she would like that, but...would it be rude to accept? What if he was only offering to be nice (Maybe he thought she was some kind of invalid?? ...Well, it wasn't like he'd be totally wrong...), and actually agreeing to it would inconvenience him? "Oh...thank you..." She tried to indicate by tone that she did want it, but that there was space for him to interpret it as a 'no', in case he was only being polite. It probably just came off as sounding more fearful than anything.

Did she want tea now? Why was he putting so much pressure on her, she didn't know what he wanted--or even what she wanted, she was so flustered. Every fiber of her being wanted for her to decline, to crawl back to the solitude of her equations. But she also didn't want to hurt his feelings, if he really wanted her to, for whatever unfathomable reason. Peering around him, she confirmed that the hallway was empty, and everything was still quiet, so... Maybe she could do it. It was just one person, and she managed okay when it was just her and Vesna. Usually. And something nagged her at the back of her mind, too, pushing her to do it. Because what if she couldn't? What did that say about her?

"O-okay..." She said so shyly it was practically inaudible, trying not to tremble as she waited for him to lead the way.

He smiled breathlessly-- this was nervewracking for both of them, for different reasons. "Great...!"

He was hesitant to turn around, as if she would just disappear of he stopped looking at her, but he did. Taking a glance at her every once in a while, he walked down the hallway to the kitchen. "So, uh... where do you work?" Since she was a doctor. What else could he ask?

Once there, he stood in front of the samovar, looking a bit confused. "Lets see..." It must have been traditional, but he'd never been much of a tea-drinker. He'd never been much of a Russian, until the Soviet Union, and that had little in common with teacups and intricate samovars-- if anything, that was what he tried to avoid.

Thoroughly embarrassed, he turned to her, red-faced. "Do you... know how this works?"

Tottering after him fearfully, as if others would start to pop up everywhere now that she was venturing out at a time other than when the communal space was unoccupied, she had to fight the urge to grab him by the arm for support. And she very nearly did, when he asked where she worked. Blushing furiously with shame, she barely managed to squeak out, "I...I don't; I can't find any work..." Maybe if she was lucky, he would think the economy was to blame. It did seem like the job market was pretty competitive, which didn't help her already seemingly insurmountable problems.

Glad when he was preoccupied with the samovar, she watched him for a moment as he puzzled over how to get it started. Did he...not know? She wasn't sure whether or not to do something about it--until he asked, seemingly embarrassed. For the first time, she cracked a smile, giggling lightly (though still with an edge of nervousness), and nodded.

After she got the hot water going, she went to the cupboards for another mug (as per usual, she had to climb onto her knees on the counter itself just to reach the cups)--a larger one. Going over to him, she took her used one out of his hands and gave him the new one. She could have used her own as it was, but seeing as how it might have somehow cultivated some pathogen since she'd last used it, she gave it a thorough scrubbing in the sink. By the time she was done (she felt like saying something as she worked, but she didn't know what), the samovar was spewing steam everywhere. "Um, it's boiling," she announced quietly, as if it weren't obvious, "Do you want tea bags or leaves...?" This all felt very strange, as if she were reliving a past life that she almost forgot she ever had. She couldn't remember the last time she'd ever...prepared something, for someone else.

...Well, actually she could, she just didn't want to.

"Oh... that's okay, things'll get better soon." He assured her. But if a doctor couldn't get a job, then how dire was it?Maybe he should have tried harder on those weird blueprints

A lesson to him: it seemed to make women happy when he didn't know about things. Good. He didn't know about much.

He was so preoccupied with watching her work that he hadn't noticed when she started climbing up to get in the cabinets. It made it seem like he couldn't have been bothered to help at all. He nearly said something, but he was too embarrassed, so he just accepted the mug with a mumbled thanks, face red.

Again, he was confused (and not only because he hadn't been listening, just watching her lips). "Huh...?" Tea bags or tea leaves? "Tea..." He immediately began, but then realized that she asked him something more specific. Not wanting to make her work anymore, he rummaged through every cabinet before finding the box of teabags, and dropping three (he had no idea) into the mug and pouring water over it all. But what a fake facade, it was obvious he didn't know what he was doing. He laughed defeatedly, moving a teabag around in the water. "Sorry... I don't even... I just wanted to talk to you." But she was a doctor. And she knew how to drink tea. And she was beautiful. And he was none of those things.

Oh no, did he think she was telling him to go get one or the other? She hadn't intended for it to be a command--she would have happily gotten either one for both of them... Especially since he seemed to have no clue where anything was. Now it was her turn to blush, wanting to point him in the right direction, but unable to make the words come out.

And...wasn't that way too many teabags? Just as she was wondering if he knew what he was doing, he admitted that he didn't. If that was all he said, she would have perhaps had another small laugh and maybe a genuine smile, but there was more to it than just that. He wanted to talk to her.

"Why...?" She peered up at him with a hint of fear in her voice, but nothing save for inquisitiveness in her eyes. She couldn't imagine why anyone would want to talk to her.

He wished she would have laughed, or smiled and brushed it off. The moment he'd wished she would have been shy (and she had a very good track record for it), she wasn't.

His own words were coming to him at a dinosaur pace, and he finally stammered out, setting the mug on the table (really, he didn't want it, anyway), "I saw you this morning..." Maybe she didn't remember. He laughed at himself... he hadn't intended to tell her all this the first day he knew her. But she would either accept it or reject him, and she was shy enough that they could stay away from each other if he was rejected. He tried his best to meet her eyes. "And I thought... you were so pretty. Beautiful... you know?" He wasn't sure if he was overstepping by using a word like beautiful... but it was already out there. "And the way you disappeared... I told myself if I didn't talk to you today, I might not ever see you again."

He pulled out a chair and dropped himself in it, and ran a hand through his hair, which had long since ceased to stay in place. "And I've never... really felt this way about anyone... but I don't think I could forgive myself if I never tried." He shrugged defeatedly. "...And I don't drink tea, either... I'm sorry..."

On the contrary, she'd been thinking about it all day--about the people she'd seen that morning. Her life was mainly uneventful, so even just a momentary encounter was enough to dwell on for hours. One had addressed her. He was only being friendly, she knew, but it had frightened her off, nonetheless. But the other...he'd only looked. What did he think of her? Did he think she was a freak? She'd saddened herself all day, wondering if this stranger--if all strangers, judged her loneliness as easily as they judged her radiation sickness.

Perhaps it was part of what had driven her to accept this man's offer of company, when he'd returned and offered it, much to her surprise. So to find out that, all along, he'd thought she was pretty...no, beautiful... That was not an adjective she would have ever applied to herself. Not after having grown up in a family full of women, where she was the babyish, brainy black sheep.

Blushing, she looked down at her mug, fingers playing with the edges. At first, she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out--she had to force her vocal cords to produce sound. "Th-thank you..." Was 'thank you' even the right thing to say? "I..." Determined, she peeked up, to see if he was still listening. If he could admit to all that, then surely, she could admit to this. "To be honest, I...I can't find a job, because I'm afraid to go outside... I'm afraid of people..." Her voice wavered, "So, I was really happy, when you left some tea for me, even though I ran away..." She couldn't continue. Sniffing, she pressed her left eye with one hand, but tears nevertheless began to stream freely from the right, as her other hand was still occupied with the mug.

He wasn't sure what to say to her 'thank you', other than just smile assuredly. If he had said 'you're welcome', she might have thought he was just tossing out compliments without meaning anything.

In retrospect, maybe he should have said something, to distract her from feeling so ashamed as to cry.

But, afraid of people? Afraid to leave the building? He'd never heard of such fears... but he wasn't about to tell her so. He wasn't heartless. Not only that, but seeing women cry made his heart melt. Getting up and rushing over to her, he took the mug from her hand and pushed her gently into the chair he had just been in. "H-hey, listen--" Grabbing a few napkins, he took a knee and held them up to her face to use. "Don't cry... fears are fears, everyone has one..." That was a weak reassurance. He tried a different approach. "Miss-- ...Sonya, look at me:" He smiled awkwardly at her, to try and at least make her laugh it off for the time being. "People say I'm bigger than a person and a half... and you say you're afraid of people but you're talking to me right now, aren't you?" He seemed to be running out of options. "What can I do to make you happy?" He really meant it.

As soon as the mug was removed from her hand, she brought it to her face as well, effectively hiding it. The tears nevertheless leaked around her palms and ran down her cheeks. His condolences at first did little to comfort her; it sounded like the sort of thing you'd say to someone who couldn't be helped. Everyone had fears. Sure. Most people weren't completely debilitated by them, though.

Despite the lackluster reassurance, though, she looked up when he asked her to, eyes overflowing.

Sniffling lightly, she wiped her eyes and attempted a small smile. She didn't know if he was being serious or not, but she couldn't help but reciprocate with a tiny giggle, "But...you're nice..." He wasn't frightening at all. Well, at first she was afraid of course, but that was because she didn't know for sure that he was nice. Really nice.

He wanted to make her happy? Was that even...possible, anymore? It was a sobering thought that maybe she just wasn't ever really going to be happy again. Smiling sadly, she wiped away the residual tears, "Oh...you've already done a lot..." What was she supposed to ask of this near-stranger? He'd already been a lot kinder to her than necessary.

He wondered what anyone could have done to this poor woman to make her believe that no person could be nice.  He didn't even know the half of it.  "Thanks... But I've tested everyone else out, here, so you don't have to be nervous-- there's no one here that would be anything but nice." Sure, there was some fighting, but he highly doubted she would step on someone's toes enough to provoke them. 

"A lot..." He repeated, taking her hand gently and wiping her tears off of it with a tissue before squeezing it lightly.  "But not enough.  It means you aren't happy." He'd been trained as a soldier-- or at least he liked to think so, and there was no half-done or gray area in the service.  It was either all done or one's attempt was not good enough.  

Then, something struck him.  "How about this..." He didn't want her to be restricted to her little room if all that was keeping her there was fear.  Which was incredibly strong, but could be manipulated under the right conditions.  "My room is just down the hall from yours.  You'll never get the wrong one, because I always leave my shoes outside.  If you want to get something from the kitchen, or go somewhere in the building, but you're afraid to go alone..." he realized even this might sound too difficult for her.  "All you have to do is knock on my door. Whenever, even in the middle of the night.  I'm big enough to hide behind."

He placed her hand back into her lap and waited on one knee (which was really starting to hurt) for her to answer.  Cosim remembered being just like her once-- crippled by fear, yet too afraid to leave a place that was slowly killing him.  Where he had been, the killing bit had been a bit more deliberate, but he wasn't about to let such a sweet woman--a doctor, even-- waste away in a tiny room.