Hard Times, Hard Matters (Gilbert/Ivan)

[Gilbert Fredrick Beilschmidt]

Standing on the bridge Grosvoner, he could only imagine what it would be like to jump into the river below. Not that he was planning to, but out of curiosity. How would it be to have the wind russing past you as you fell, the feeling of gravity pulling you down before you met the water? Would the sound of a body be loud or would it only be a small, insignificant splash? Would no one hear the potential ending to that tale, or would it be one that ended with the person who dared fate and nature to tale what they could, walk away with only soggy clothes to show for his adventure? Whoever this person might be, he was either far braver or stupider than Gilbert knew himself to be. Perhaps it was a combination of the two. Perhaps it would be desperation that drove someone to find how sturdy the human body really was when gravity slammed them against the water with all of its unyielding force. Whatever the case, it wasn't him, it wasn't Gilbert. Gilbert wasn't that experimental, that desperate for answers that he would actually risk his own life or others to find out.

Sighing, he leaned against the railing, his hands flexing around the metal bar as his arms stiffened to keep him upright. He was running into a bit of a money problem and there weren't many options out. His job was going slow, and how many jobs could he get as a hacker? It seemed he needed to bite the preverbal bullet and find another part time job. But what skills did he have that someone would pay for? He could write and hack and... well, he was always good at getting himself into trouble. Though, one odd skill he had was cleaning. With a shrug, he could only sigh. It seemed like he would have to hire himself out as a maid in order to get the money he needed.

[Ivan Petrovich Braginsky]

Ivan's day had been fairly peaceful - uneventful if you will, and as such he had decided to forgo calling a cab in favor of walking back home instead. The evening view of London was beautiful, even if the stars weren't as visible as they had been from the forests back home, partly due to the weather, partly due to all the pollution, be it from factories or the bright lights scattered throughout the city. But even then exercise never hurt, and one could catch far more interesting things when they took their time to look around, not limited by the frame of a car's window.

Interesting things such as... Oh.

Ivan's steps came to a sudden halt as he caught a sight of something peculiar - and certainly alarming - a little distance ahead; around midway through the Grosvenor bridge, body illuminated by the warm lights of the structure they stood on, a man was leaning against the railing, his eyes fixed onto the murk waters of Thames below. The man was unmoving, silent, and something about his form made Ivan incredibly uncomfortable. The person wasn't planning to... to jump, was he? It wouldn't be a first Ivan heard of such a thing, and not even the first such act he'd witness with his own eyes, but it didn't make the prospect sound any more appealing to him. People taking lives was always bad, be it their own or someone else's. He had to intervene.

Feet moving again, Ivan walked closer to the stranger, mind working to think up words for him to offer to the man. Any words, just as long as they served as a distraction enough to make the person forget his crazy, reckless plan to end his life. Sometimes all these people needed was someone to listen, he'd found.

"Chilly night out, huh~?" He chirped, hands stuffed in his pockets as he stopped some feet away. He didn't want to startle the man into acting out his plan prematurely. "But it's also a pretty one, da?. Makes your mood go all the way up." He giggled a bit, plump cheeks slightly rosy from the wind, mouth half-covered by his scarf. "Don't you think so? Stranger?"

[Gilbert Fredrick Beilschmidt]

“Chilly night out, huh~? But its also a pretty one, da? Makes your mood go all the way up.”

Gilbert could only sigh as he heard the man’s cheery voice. It was his luck that someone would find him on a night he wanted to be alone and think. But it couldn’t be helped and that he knew; he could only try to get the man to leave him alone so he could figure out a plan. Moving his body around and grabbing one last look at the river below, he slowly leaned against the railing and fisted his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t in the mood for company, and he didn’t feel like being nice either. Why give this man more reason to stick around and bother his thoughts. Heterochromatic eyes looked over the man before him and well, under better circumstances, he might have found the man attractive. This moment though, he could care less.

About to roll his eyes at the comment, he had to stop when the man giggled… yes that was right, the man giggled at his own comment for some reason. For the life of him, Gilbert couldn’t imagine why it was funny to him. Though he could almost laugh at the way the man’s scarf half covered his face, a pair of violet eyes staring at him. A small part of him felt a bit of relief, there was someone else in this cruel world that had an abnormal eye color like he did. It could almost give them a bond, something in common they could stick by each other with; but Gilbert wasn’t a fool. This man had just stopped out of concern he would make a hasty decision and jump into the cold waters below. He didn’t have to be a mind reader to know this; it was what anyone would have thought if the case was reversed.

"Don't you think so? Stranger?"

What else could Gilbert do but shrug. Really, he didn’t care about the weather, he couldn’t. Most he could do was learn to like layering up as he cut back bills and that included the heat. With a sigh, he pulled a packet out of his pocket and lit a stick that was sticking out. He knew it wasn’t good to smoke, and he didn’t do it a lot, but right now, he could use the old comfort it had been known to provide.

“I don’t mind the cold, who can when you live here. Though what makes a stranger like you stop to talk to the likes of me? I’m in no danger of jumping, just contemplating options in a rough path. You best get home to your warm flat before that nose of yours falls off. I’ll not take the blame for that.”

So that was a little ruder than planned, but he didn’t want to take the time to be nice right now. He had to get to his apartment himself and start layering up. He didn’t want any of his own bits to fall off , or a cold to decide that he would be a decent host.

[Ivan Petrovich Braginsky]

Much to Ivan's relief and joy the stranger reacted to his words fairly fast, but not with alarm. The man even turned to face him, which effectively made the other distance himself from the dangers of the river below. From the looks of it, the man didn't seem particularly happy to be interrupted, but Ivan didn't mind all that much; if it was for the sake of saving a life he could take a few glares thrown his way, no problem. He'd gotten used to them in his line of work anyway, both from his supposed comrades and underlings and enemies.

That, and the man's eyes were undeniably beautiful so he didn't mind having their gaze, no matter how unfriendly, directed at him. He'd always had a fascination with rare eye colors, possibly because of his own purple eyes fit the description as well. It was refreshing to meet others who nature had played tricks on and possible made feel alienated at least at some point in their life because of it. Made him feel less alone.

But that was neither here nor now. He was here to save a life, not marvel at the pink of the other's multicolored irises. So, as the other shrugged and fished out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, Ivan refocused his gaze, a small, polite smile still lingering. Oh, the other smoked? Knowing how calming the habit from experience, Ivan decided to wait quietly and let him finish taking a drag. If the other was stressed enough to find himself staring into the Thames, he sounded like he sure could use that smoke.

And speaking of, so could he. Too bad he had used up his own batch of cigarettes earlier during the day. Would the stranger mind if he asked for one? Before he could ask and find out, the man suddenly spoke, his words breaking the silence that had started to build up around them.

“I don’t mind the cold, who can when you live here. Though what makes a stranger like you stop to talk to the likes of me?"

'When you live here', huh. Ivan found those words just the slightest bit amusing, considering London's cold wasn't that big of a deal compared to his home, or the other countries higher up north. But then, he couldn't assume this man had ever traveled to those parts of the world.

Now the man's question... that was a little bit more difficult to reply to. Should he tell the man outright he was worried, or should he lie and say he just felt lonely and in need of a man to talk to, or something equally harmless?

Turned out, he didn't have to worry about that for long.

"I’m in no danger of jumping, just contemplating options in a rough path. You best get home to your warm flat before that nose of yours falls off. I’ll not take the blame for that.”


"...Oh?" Was literally all that could come out of Ivan's mouth in response. So the man wasn't about to jump? That was certainly relieving to hear, provided the other didn't lie. But judging from his composition and tone of voice, the man seemed to just have a hard day, not a crisis worth tossing his life away for.

Unfortunately that also meant the man's rudeness didn't have a proper excuse, either. Oh, well, he'd seen people like this before. People who defaulted to being snarky even when met with friendly words. Normally, he would have just nodded and continued on his way, heeding the other's advice. But today, well, today he was bored, and this stranger did seem interesting if nothing else. He hesitated to call the man mysterious, but it was something akin to that.

"That's okay," Ivan replied after a while, shifting his hands inside his pockets, wide shoulders slightly hunched to better match the stranger's height. "I'm a big boy, so I'll take the blame for my own choices."

With that he moved closer, leaning on the railing next to the man, hands in the pockets of his long coat and head tilted in the other's direction. "So I'm choosing to stay for a quick smoke, at least."

The Russian nodded towards the pack of cigarette the other was holding, as if to ask for him to share.

[Gilbert Fredrick Beilschmidt]

"I’m a big boy, so I’ll take the blame for my own choices.”

Gilbert could only snort as the main said that. He could have almost smiled as the blondish man leaned against the railing with him. Usually he didn’t like company when he was trying to think and had a metaphorical rain cloud over his head, but this man seemed to understand how he was feeling and while making his presence known, wasn’t forcing himself to be accepted. It was more like he was able to make himself seem like someone that was there to talk to if you wanted to or just to be there to let him know he wasn’t alone. He had never met someone who could be so unobtrusive for his large size. Though by the look Gilbert took as he moved, he was either broad at the chest and shoulders, or it was his jacket. It didn’t look like he was heavy with fat. Rolling his eyes to himself, he chastised himself. He needed need to be sizing up the people around him; he didn’t know why he was. He wasn’t a fighter, he was only media pawn and a sometimes hacker who didn’t do much with it, just play around to see if he could do stuff.

”So I’m choosing to stay for a quick smoke, at least."

His eyes move over to see that the man was looking at his pack of cigarettes and his eyes rolled again. He knew he had to stop doing that. It was a bad habit of his and it wouldn’t help him seem approachable to anyone else. All he could do was shrug though and offered out the pack as he stuck one of the sticks between his lips and held it there, he would need to light it yes, but that would come after the stranger had gotten his stick and he was able to put the pack away.

”Your lungs, your choice. You got a light somewhere in one of those pockets? What’s your name by the way, I hate smoking with people and not knowing there name."

He had said this from around the cancer stick, but he didn’t care. It was a soft comfort, one of the only real ones he could afford anymore, but even not so soon he wouldn’t be able to get these.

[Ivan Petrovich Braginsky]

The stranger didn't answer him right away, but that was okay. He might have not looked too excited to get company, but there was no indication of the shorter man wanting him to scram, either. That was already progress, and it made Ivan smile widely as he settled to his spot next to him. He didn't really mind the silence that was forming between them all that much - sometimes words were hardly needed when making acquaintances. Sure, he loved to talk, but... he was well aware that he could be a bit awkward at times when he spoke to new people. So for now, this was fine. He wouldn't force the other to open up.

He did kind of want to know the man's name, though. Constantly referring to him without a name in his mind was getting a bit silly. So when the other broke the silence with words and even asked for a name, Ivan couldn't be happier. There it was, his chance to return the question right back at him. He took the cigarette he was offered with a mumbled thanks, placing the cig in his mouth as he focused on listening.

”Your lungs, your choice. You got a light somewhere in one of those pockets? What’s your name by the way, I hate smoking with people and not knowing there name."

Chuckling, Ivan pushed a hand into what the other had called 'one of those pockets', soon fishing out what was indeed a lighter. He never left the house without one - or two, in some cases - as they were not only useful for cigarette lighting, but for other things as well. You never knew what to expect from a day working for a criminal organization, after all.

"Of course," Ivan nodded as pulled out the lighter, shaking it in front of the other a few times before lighting his cigarette. He took a long drag and breathed contently, before offering the still burning lighter to the other. "Ivan Braginsky," he introduced, forgoing mentioning his patronym once again. Often it just confused people. "And you? I'm interested to know if your name is as extraordinary as your eyes, stranger~"

[Gilbert Fredrick Beilschmidt]

Inhaling after the stick was lit from the bright glow that shown from the metal lighter, he briefly had to wonder how people saw the two of them standing here. Were they treated by these two men, who seemingly had no cares in the world right now. Gilbert knew he had an off putting vibe around him when he wanted to be left alone, that’s why he was really surprised when this Ivan approached him. This man didn’t seem to be affected by his stare the way some people were, didn’t seem to find him odd. This man was an enigma to Gilbert, one he wasn’t sure he wanted to solve.

“Ivan Braginsky,"

A name for this stranger who feel the need to save another human like himself. He really was a mystery. Though it was Gilbert’s job to figure out the unknown that came before him he would at least see why Ivan stuck around, why he had decided that Gilbert needed saving.…though it could just be that Gilbert was human and thus deserved to live, and he wanted company and Gilbert was the only one around for now With a mental shrug, he dismissed it. For once he wouldn’t question things and just go with the flow, as he normally tried to make the world believe he did.

"And you? I'm interested to know if your name is as extraordinary as your eyes, stranger~"

Gilbert couldn’t help it. Hearing those words, a light dusting of red appeared across his cheeks and he looked away, trying to hide his reaction. He had never had his eyes complimented like that, for it was a compliment. Usually people just didn’t comment on them or called them odd or weird. But extraordinary? Taking the stick from his mouth, he blew out a gentle breath, smoke rising lowly with the air as he tried to get control over himself. Clearing his throat, he shrugged.

“Names Gilbert Rothstein. Don’t know if that’s as fascinating as you think my eyes are” He did manage to look back over at the man, a bit of a smirk appearing on his face in the process. “Though your eyes are just as interesting as mine. Must say, we must be the only two people in town with different colored eyes like this. Should start a club or something. Of course I’d be president of it, you could be the vice, we’ll be so secret only we know it exists ja? Sounds like fun.”