Standard disclaimer applies.
Title: You Break It, You Buy It.
Genre: Humour.
Rating: G.
Characters: Yuriy and Balkov.
Summary: Yuriy was supposed to be a perfect creation; unflawed in any way, but Balkov made a mistake and now finds himself in a mall with a very vain and fashion conscious teenager.
You Break It, You Buy It
-- By Reiven --
'It should not have went wrong? My calculations were immaculate. My planning; perfect! Every state of the art equipment at the tips of my fingers and yet...I failed. I completely and utterly, failed.'
"Sir; what do you think of these?" Making a turn in front of the mirror, tilting his head slightly to the left and right, Yuriy's forehead creased with dissatisfaction, "I think they make me look like a dork. Perhaps with the brown frames?"
"Have you not chosen one already?" Balkov gritted his teeth, "We have been dawdling around here for the past two hours and you have practically tried on everything in the entire store."
"You do want me to look my best for the competition, don't you?" Yuriy struck a pose, a hand flipping his red locks back and he gazed at his reflection, "After all, it is all your fault."
Balkov looked taken aback, "I did no ask you to open your eyes while the cylinder was still full of liquid."
"And yet, you'd failed to mention a specific time for me to do so. Besides, after all the other outrageous things you'd have me do in the past, this would not have been the first time."
"Be quiet, Yuriy," Balkov glared at his redhead subordinate as he discarded another pair of glasses onto the ones that have already mounted on the glass display case.
"That one made me look to pallid," he said as a matter of fact and moved onto the next case, since the one before him was already empty. "What do you think of diamond studded ones?" he glanced at his mentor, pointing towards a pair of thick, black rimmed ones with studs imbedded into the sides.
"We aren't entering a fashion show, Yuriy. Pick one so that we can leave, immediately." Balkov was at his wits end. Of all his more simple-minded students, it had to be the one with the biggest ego and the highest self-conscious. Why could it not have been Ivan (then he would have been able to bribe him with ice-cream) or Sergei (he never made much fuss over his appearance) or even Boris (whom he could have just ignored since the boy simply detested showing weakness).
No, it had to have happened to Yuriy, the diva. He could have been a model if he wasn't a blader.
"I don't think its really me, him maybe, but not me."
The sound Yuriy referring to him brought Balkov out of his self-pitying haze and he looked over to the counter at a pair of purple rimmed, red lenses beauties. He was immediately smitten.
"If I may," he coughed and spoke in the most serious and commanding tone he could muster.
Yuriy looked at his mentor with a semi-amused expression. "Told you," he muttered to the young attendant who was casting curious looks at the man parading around in the spectacles as if he were on a catwalk.
"These!" Yuriy's sudden exclamation caught the attention of both present. One rushed forward to get the glasses in question while Balkov breathed a sigh of relief.
There would be no more experimentation on Ivanov Yuriy after this, his patience could not tolerate it any longer, not to mention the Abbey funds, for he was certain that the glasses chosen would be the most expensive one in the shop. That added in with the amount he'd have to pay for the high-powered lenses...Balkov had to take a moment to glance though his wallet to make sure the cash he'd brought along would suffice.
The things he did for world domination.
"What do you think, Balkov?" Yuriy inquired, a smile on his face and the spectacles residing comfortably on the bridge of his nose, "Isn't it just perfect?" he twirled around to look at himself in the mirror and just bask in the glory that was his reflection. The powder blue hue of the frames, the small specks of gold sprinkled over the surface not only enhanced the colour of his already sparkling eyes, at the side of illuminating the glow of his features and making his red hair really stand out.
Balkov hated to admit it, but it did look good. However, one glance at the price tag, and Balkov really, really hated to admit it.
"It's a little over the budget, isn't it?" he purple-haired director unconsciously loosed the collar of his coat and stared at the teen with almost a hopeful look on his face.
"If you see it in the financial perspective, then yes, I suppose it is..." he trailed off, attention focusing instead on the small handprint smudged onto the otherwise clean glass.
"But...?" Balkov sighed, the decision seemed to have already been made at that moment. He might as well not delay the inevitable.
"But to see it in a futuristic perspective, it would mean countless opportunities for the Abbey in future expeditions. The widening of all of the Abbey's influences, bringing in more intakes to the beyblading teams and ultimately bring you closer to your goal of world domination."
Balkov stared dubiously at the smug teen in front of him. "Oh...a pair of overpriced, overrated spectacles can accomplish all that, is it?"
Yuriy spluttered for a moment at the implication, "I'll have you know that these are the latest of the latest in the fashion scene. Not everyone is graced with as much dignity and beauty as I am to be able to wear these, you know."
Balkov resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He should have known better than to get into a fashion argument with Yuriy.
"Fine. However, you will repay me by defeating that loudmouth, insolent little brat in the tournament. Otherwise..." the glint in Balkov's eye was so prominent that the shine escaped the confines of its thick plastic goggles, "I will send you back here and you will work off your debt."
"Fine, fine," the arrogant teen waved his comment off, "But might I remind you, sir, that the old man, Daitenji would probably be interested to hear about the incident. After all, it isn't everyday that a student under someone's watch become near sighted because of experiments being conducted onto them."
Balkov resisted the overwhelming urge to smack the boy upside his head, especially in the eye of the public like that. "Fine," he answered to gritted teeth. He hated when his students got the upper hand on him like that. Kai was another fine example. Good thing the slate haired teen was nowhere on the premises.
"Fantastic," Yuriy wore a superior smirk on his face as he studied himself in the mirror once again. He always liked looking at his reflection, "You know what they say, sir, you break it…"
"...you pay dearly with limited funds for it," he muttered spitefully under his breath as he got out his wallet. "I'll take these as well," he placed his own pair on the counter and smirked. After all, he could just chalk up the price of Yuriy's spectacles and blame it on the redhead.
Voltaire could never really say no to pretty, young boys. Balkov always wondered about that.
-- Owari --