Russia and Grocery Shopping

"Stop it," Emile hissed as she inserted a coin into the little device latched on top of the carts. It had been nearly a week since the damn country, Russia, arrived at her doorstep. It had also been nearly a week since she found out that the stupid company was test-running their product and required that a selected few take care of their stuff. If it weren't for the monthly income of a few thousand dollars sent from the company for 'product maintainence', she would of flat-out refused to support such an expensive person. Emile yanked the cart out and wheeled it past the automatic doors and into the grocery store. "I said stop it." She turned to glare at the tall, Russian man - who was currently staring at the other customers with that stupid grin on his face.

"Why? It's so much fun da..." He asked, purple eyes never moving to focus on her as he spoke.

"You're going to get us kicked out again," Emile argued, stopping to pick up a loaf of soft bread. "Remember how you creeped out all the employees at Safeway? We got a permanent ban, thank you very much."

"But they were so inefficient, da? If they were working with me, they wouldn't be like that. Being one with Mother Russia is good, da." Russia - Ivan told her as he followed Emile through the bakery section.

Sometimes, Ivan brought up a good point, and it always made Emile feel like a twisted bastard to agree with him. "Yes, well..." Her annoyance faltered a bit, "Regardless, you should not stare at people like that! They'd think you're some creep or stalker...or something."

"Funny because I often have people tell me I am a...creep, da."

"Oh shut up. If you get us kicked out of more and more stores, there wouldn't be anymore stores for us to buy food from." Emile scolded, turning into the cereal aisle, where she picked up a box of Raisin Bran and (Ivan's favorite) Froot Loops. She knew that Ivan could really care less if they couldn't buy any food, since he would manage to find food somewhere. So, for some real impact, she added with a nonchalant tone, "And because of that, I guess we won't be able to get any vodka either."

A small gasp, "You are lying."

A small smile played on Emile's lips, "Nope." She answered, popping her 'P'. She grabbed a few boxes of yogurt energy bars and turned into the next aisle.

There a pause, followed by a string of Russian curses and a series of quiet, 'kolkolkol's.

"So, you will stop staring at people?" Emile asked, politely and innocently.

"I have no other choice, da?" Ivan muttered, the childish cheeriness not as blatant as before. "You will cut off my vodka supply, otherwise."

"I warned you." Emile shrugged, a little skip in her gait. It was rare for her to win in an argument against the Russian. "I told you."

That was pretty much the end of their conversation. It didn't take a very long time for their cart to fill up with food and, mostly, vodka. They lined up and Emile paid for the items. The cashier was restless and fidgety, he often cast anxious glances at the dark-faced Russian. He packed their groceries and inhumane amounts of alcohol into plastic bags hastily and bid them a relieved farewell.

On their way out, the pair passed by the flower section of the grocery shop. Ivan paused, causing Emile to stop as well.

"What?" She said, somewhat irritated. She just wanted to go home.

"Sunflowers."

"Ivan, it's not the season, they don't -"

"Sunflowers, girl, I see them." Ivan lifted his arm and a gloved hand pointed to one corner of the chilled aisle. There was, indeed, sunflowers stashed in the miserable little corner. Even the sunflowers looked miserable. They were old, dull-in colour and wilting.

"But their wilting, Ivan."

"I don't care. We did not get kicked out from here, so I should get a prize, da?"

Damn it. "Okay. Fine. Go get some."

They stood there, in the middle of nowhere, for what felt like a long while. Emile glared up at Ivan, "Okay, I'll get it."

So she did, she paid for it at the same checkout as before. This time though, the cashier was casting her anxious glances. Once finished, Emile shoved the single dying sunflower into Ivan's chest. "Take it."

Ivan smiled and said nothing. They shuffled out into the blustery wind and to Emile's car. Ivan climbed in first, leaving Emile to pack up the groceries and put away the cart. For the rest of the day, the only 'thanks' she got from Ivan was a smile, and a chilling:

"I hate you."

I'm sorry if it's un-entertaining, but this was the style I figured I would stick with. :) If you have any normal day-to-day event you want to put our duo through, please say so in the review. Thank you!