"Why is she angry?"
Sara was sprawled out on the bed in Mila's hotel room, occasionally lifting her head ever so slightly to look at the TV, which was currently tuned to what appeared to be a Russian soap opera. A middle-aged woman with masses of curly blonde hair was currently screaming at a pouting younger woman. Being in Russian, the plot was incomprehensible to her.
Mila glanced up from painting her toenails with some lurid pink polish. "What do you think she's angry about?"
Sara hummed softly. "Let me see. She is the other woman's mother."
"Good guess."
"She's angry because her daughter is ungrateful."
"Hmm. Kinda."
"Because she put her whole life on hold to have her daughter..."
"...maaaybe..."
"...who is actually the daughter of Satan, who wants his spawn to carry out his work on Earth."
Mila groaned. "Exactly what kind of soaps do you have in Italy?!"
"Is my story better than the real one?"
"...well, yes. She's actually angry because her daughter is marrying her former stepfather, so, Nastia's ex."
"Is her step-"
"-her stepfather isn't Satan. So yes, your story is better. Maybe they should hire you to write for them, this show has sucked for years now." Satisfied with her toenails, Mila poked Sara's leg. "Come on, I'll paint yours too."
"No-one will see them."
"So? It's for luck."
"What's lucky about pink nail polish?"
"It's my favourite kind, so I say it's lucky. Come on, I've already done mine, and Yuri's. Not that he needs the luck."
"I'm surprised he let you."
"Me too, I got halfway through before he realised that no-one would see them, but let me finish anyway because he didn't want me hogging all the luck for myself, apparently."
"He doesn't seem like he's superstitious."
Mila shrugged. "You'd think, but then, he is a literal baby."
"He's fifteen!"
"Yeah, but he's a brat. And I'm stuck with being the only one torturing him because Georgi's still moping over Anya, and Viktor's off playing coach."
"He seems to be doing well."
"Yeah. Yakov's still mad though." Mila tugged one of Sara's socks off, and reached for the polish. "We've got Lilia hanging around all the time now, which probably doesn't help. She's only there for Yuri, but she keeps shouting about my posture. Even when I'm just sitting down. And she never smiles. Who doesn't smile? I smile all the time."
"And you are a pest." Sara poked her tongue out.
"How dare you. I am a delight." She observed her work on Sara's right foot, and nodded in appreciation. "Sit up, I need your other foot." Without waiting, she grabbed both of Sara's ankles and spun her around until the required foot was in her lap.
"Easy!"
"I've been doing weights lately, can you tell?"
Sara reached over and pinched Mila's upper arm. It felt warm and solid. "Very... hench."
"Hench?"
"Shut up, you know what I mean."
"Sure, brah." Mila grabbed the snapback Sara had discarded as soon as she lay down on the bed. "Hey brah, you going to the kegger, brah?"
Sara snatched the hat back and yanked it onto her head. "Dude, you know I can't, Alpha Beta Boob are having a pillow fight in their panties, we can't miss that!" They both snorted with laughter.
"Boys are ridiculous."
"Yeah."
"Speaking of which..." Mila raised an eyebrow. "Any luck in the last year? What happened with that Marc guy? You said Mickey scared him off?"
"Of course he did. Like he does everyone."
"That sucks. Have you talked to him?"
"Of course, so many times. But I'm going to have to really..." lost for words, Sara firmly slammed one hand down on the pillow. "You know. Be blunt. So there's no room for him to make a sad face and make me feel bad."
"Of course. Look, he's been ruining all chances for you to have a social life outside of him. I know he's your brother, but it's selfish, Sara."
"He thinks he's protecting me."
Mila rolled her eyes and finished painting the last toenail. "Does he? Or has he convinced himself that he's protecting you just because he's too scared to make his own friends?"
"I don't know." She lay back on the bed, tossing the snapback onto the floor behind her. "I don't get why he wouldn't want friends."
"Well, you're not just brother and sister. Or even twins. You've been skating together since day one, you spend all your time together, you're basically the only person he is certain will never reject him. Yakov says that skaters who train together already have a closer bond than most regular friends, add the family dynamic and the need to be a big strong man into that and that's how you end up with... well, with Mickey."
"Are you a psychologist now?"
"Nah. It's just pretty obvious, don't you think?"
"I guess not to me." Sara lay her head back on the pillow. The soap opera had ended, and she assumed she was looking at an advertisement.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to be a jerk, I know he's your brother. It just sucks that he won't let you do anything."
"Mmm." She could feel her eyes start to jerk around and fail to focus on anything, a sure sign of sleep.
"And hey, you should get out more. You can't always be skating. Even I get away sometimes. Come to St. Petersburg, I'll show you around." Mila lay down next to her and stretched.
There was a brief period of quiet, and Sara managed to force her eyes open. "Mila?"
Mila herself was sprawled out, eyes closed, although her breathing indicated that she wasn't quite asleep.
"Mm?"
"Can I crash here? I'm comfortable now. I'll text Mickey."
"Sure." Mila lifted her legs in the air and wriggled under the covers. "C'mon, it's warm."
The last thing Sara remembered after pulling the duvet up to her chin was feeling for her phone as a jingle chirped from the TV.
