Sorry for being away for so long…my computer is throwing a total shitfit…
Things in 'italics' are thoughts, the rest of it is regular...seem simple enough?
Anyway…enjoy.
I own nothing.
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-Gatchina, Russia-
The man came to their door in the early afternoon, around 1:30 or so. Mihael was practicing his written Italian when the man came into the living room, followed closely by Anja. He looked down at Mihael with something akin to appraisal on his face, and it made Mihael shiver.
"Is this your son?" the man asked Anja. His tone was polite, sort of saying, 'I'm asking, but I don't really care'.
Mihael didn't buy it. 'And that's a stupid question anyway. Whose son would I be if not hers?'
But Anja smiled and said yes, and rather proudly, at that. Mihael smirked. Pride was the sin his mother warned him most frequently against, but Mihael was smart enough not to mention it in front of company.
And the man did something with his face then, which could have been loosely called a smile. Mihael thought it was a mockery, a grotesque pantomime. He would have put money on the guess that the man had never actually smiled in his entire life.
The man reached out a hand to ruffle Mihael's hair, but he never got that far. The boy started growling, a deep animal sound reverberating loudly from his tiny chest. From anyone else it would seem absurd, but 2-year-old Mihael Keehl had stopped grown men in their tracks with the sound. This man was no exception. He froze on the spot, as though someone had a gun to his head.
Anja scooped Mihael off the ground. "Mihael, that's not polite at all," she said. She turned to the man and continued, "I'm sorry. He's not usually like this."
The apology was sweet, but her tone was guarded now. She trusted her son's intuition most of the time, and even if he wasn't overly friendly with new people, he rarely growled unless he had a reason to.
"Oh, don't think twice about it. I can't blame a young boy for being shy." And the man pretended to smile again, and Mihael shivered.
'Like a predator,' Mihael thought suddenly. 'He's not smiling to be friendly. He's smiling because he sees prey…'
And the realization sent Mihael into such a shock that he forgot to glare or growl entirely. Anja put him down and she and the man talked for a while. Mihael hadn't even listened to the conversation, he was in such a state.
Later that night, Mihael woke up to the sound of his parents arguing quietly. He furrowed his brow and listened hard. It had to be quite serious, because his parents never argued, loudly or otherwise.
"Well, I think it's a good idea, Anja. It would be a wonderful investment," his father was saying.
"I know, Mischa. I know. I like the idea as much as you do."
"I don't think you do, Anja. You haven't said one thing in its favor since we started discussing it. I never ask you for anything, Anja. Just this."
Mihael felt a flair of annoyance rise in his chest. 'No, you never ask for anything, Papochka, but you expect plenty.'
"Mischa, I told you. It sounds like a fantastic idea. It's only that…well…Mihael didn't like him at all."
There was silence for a moment, and Mihael could feel the tension of it all the way in his bedroom.
"Mihael didn't like him? Mihael? He's two years old, Anja. I'm not basing my investment decisions on what a two year old thinks."
Anja sighed, exasperated. "If Mihael hadn't gone over our books, we wouldn't have any money to invest in the first place, Mischa."
"I'm not basing my decision on the character assessment of a two year old, Anja, be he a genius or not. That's all there is to it."
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Yes, no, maybe so?
