Her guns cut deep into her armpits as she went noisily down the wooden steps to the parking lot. There was a thought to forgo them, but she remembered Janet, and remembered how dangerous she had twisted the situation into being; most of all she was more comfortable with her Cutlasses by her sides. Balalaika hadn't given them a second look, instead glancing at the folder tucked beside Revy's chest. Her hair had just began to dry, but the back of her black tank top was still damp, sticking to her back. A few droplets had stained the yellowed folder, and her anxiousness spiked. She wasn't able to check to see if the pictures were okay.
"Are you coming, Two Hands?" Balalaika teased as she rounded the front of the car to the passenger seat. The sun beat down on her blonde hair, her broad shoulders, and she looked more annoyed than anything in the intense nighttime heat. Boris had opened the car door for her; his expression was unreadable. Revy hoped that he didn't care if she was tagging along. It was night, as much as the sun was taking forever to dip below the horizon; a little after eight if she could remember what the cracked clock in the kitchen said.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm comin'." She replied, cracking a grin as she skipped the last step and landed on the asphalt. Her stomach fluttered when she saw Balalaika slide easily into the seat, her legs tucking in so ladylike that Revy blinked. Quickly she walked over to the back seat, choosing the side behind the driver, like she had before. The folder wrinkled under her tight grip. Revy gaped at the lines stressing it, and relaxed her fingers.
She yanked open the door and stiffly maneuvered herself into the car. Revy clicked the seatbelt on slowly, eyes darting to the apartment, searching for anyone looking out of the window. The kitchen light was on behind the faded curtains, but she couldn't see any shadows of figures. Where the fuck could have Janet gone? Did some other fucker do her in? Balalaika ought to give the guy a goddamn gift card. Benny was seeing Janet tonight, though. Maybe he'd stumble upon her body. Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe they'd have a pleasant dinner and pleasant sex afterward, and then she'd leave and fuck another more muscular, taller guy.
She worried her lip with her teeth. Balalaika doesn't have a wandering eye, Revy thought, shaking her head. She could have had anyone she wanted, and Revy had managed to have Balalaika all to herself. A large amount of fabric lay beside her, turning her head she saw Balalaika's rumpled grey-green military coat. Hesitantly, she glanced up at the blonde as she set the folder in her lap, and reached out to graze the woolen coat with her fingers. Balalaika caught her look, and the corners of her eyes crinkled as she watched Revy touch the medals, feeling the different textures and fighting the urge to press the coat to her nose, or wrap it around herself. Revy knew how the coat felt when it the Russian wore it, how imposing and broad and intimidating it looked, and her throat became dry.
Revy had half a mind to ask Balalaika to sit in the back with her when the driver's side opened and Boris silently sat in the leather seat. She removed her hand and curled it into her lap, her nails grazing the scab in her palm.
He turned the key in the ignition and flicked the headlights on. The engine rumbled confidently, quieter than the Plymouth's and sounding more dependable. Quietly, the two Russians slipped into a conversation in their native language as the apartment went out of sight. Revy narrowed her eyes in annoyance, and barely kept her mouth shut. Guys I am right fucking here just say something in English what the fuck is going on isn't it rude or something to say shit that your guest can't understand or something I am the third wheel here.
The drive was mostly Boris and Balalaika locked in a conversation punctuated by his short answers. Revy stared out the window, fiddling with her hair, jiggled her leg, and kept one hand firmly on the folder. The sidewalks were filled with people, clubs were lighting up the cement with neon. They pulled to a red light and Revy recognized a few triad members crossing the street. Was Rock with Chang? Where was he? The rest of the ride was quiet, with a few aside glances Balalaika gave her. Revy would return them wholeheartedly, knocking her knees together and fiddling with the seatbelt.
"You are not undoing the seat belt, correct?" Boris said in his typical tone, and Balalaika turned her head away to chuckle, raising a hand to her mouth. He, on the other hand, remained stoic.
" No , I'm not." Revy replied. "I was adjusting it. How the fuck can I make a smooth escape anyway? I have to unlock the damn child lock."
"We can't take any chances." Balalaika said, looking back at her. Boris took an easy left turn, and Hotel Moscow loomed into view.
Revy struggled to hide a pout. "What if we got in a sudden gunfight and I was literally strapped back here, fighting to get this damn thing off?"
"Then I suppose we are simply done for." Balalaika said, with a shake of her head. "We have no other way to defend ourselves, except for a Chinese girl in the backseat."
Fidgeting, Revy played with a frayed corner of the folder. "I'm half. I'm American."
"Is that supposed to make us feel better?"
"...What-fucking-ever." Her face heated up at Balalaika's tone, her nose wrinkling. Touching her cheek, she knew she was beet-red. "I give up. You win, Sis."
Boris stated something in Russian, and Balalaika chuckled again, before she composed herself. Hotel Moscow grew large, looming over them, more giant in the night than it was during the day. A van was parked out front, its rims rusted and tires bald, and the back doors were open, and Revy squinted inquisitively at it.
"What's going on?"
"Business and more business," the blonde replied. "I was hoping they'd be finished by now."
"Someone I know?" Revy joked with a lopsided smile. Balalaika glanced sideways. Boris flicked his eyes at the Kapitan. Revy stared at the blonde. "I'm just playing, Sis." she added.
Driving onto the apartment's lot, Revy stared at the high-security doorway as they passed it. She didn't want to appear embarrassed, but humiliation hung in the air as Revy inhaled when she remembered where they were going.
The car's wheels pulled to a slow stop next to the back door. Boris shifted the gear into parked, and sat still, awaiting what Balalaika would say. The blonde muttered in Russian to him with a shake of her head, moving her hand in a circular motion. Boris replied in a more muted tone. Revy sat in the back as lost as ever, her hands in her lap. The gun under her right armpit pinched her arm when it adjusted in its holster. Her heart beat faster despite itself, her body already anticipating a gunfight, like a primal instinct.
The trash is still there. Moonlight glinted off of the rusted silver of the trash cans. It almost looked romantic, and she wanted to hit herself for having standards that low. Revy scoffed bitterly, drawing attention to her.
"You'll be alright?"
Revy blushed harder when Balalaika gave her a soft look. As soft as she could in front of one of her men. "Yeah."
"I would take you through the front door if I could. I didn't always intend for you to use this entrance." The doorway that prostitutes would use, everyone in the car must have thought. Perhaps the blonde didn't want to even see them arrive, and leave, their camisoles rumpled and their hair matted. But that was what Revy looked like when she would leave. Holy fuck, I hope Boris doesn't think I'm some whore.
"I get it, I'll wait for the buzzer." she mumbled, unbuckling her seat belt. Slipping out of the car, Revy stretched her legs and arms as she watched the car crawl away. Suddenly she was encased in darkness, and headed towards the door, standing on the concrete. Folder in hand, she hugged it to her chest and leaned on the wall, noticing what was in the garbage. The underwear was still there. Minutes passed, and the buzzer rang.
The heavy door stuck closed behind her, and Revy slid along the wall, eyes pointed at the end of the hallway. Laughter came from a furthest room, and she kept her attention to it until she entered the stairwell with quick feet. Funny, there's no whores this time. The folder almost slipped from her hand and she caught the newspaper that wanted to fall out, the exclamation echoing up the stairs, as well her heavy boots slamming on the rough concrete. Heartbeat in her throat, she rushed to the third floor. Besides her slow breathing, the hallway was silent except for a far away sound of tinny music.
318… 319… 320. Knocking a fist lightly against the door, Revy sighed in relief before jerking her head at footsteps coming down the hallway. She rapped her knuckles hurriedly. The person grew closer, muffled on the carpet. Backing away, Revy walked backwards towards the stairwell, one hand on a Cutlass, her feet braced apart. Her eyes narrowed and her face twisted into one of frustration, because of course this would happen on only the second visit.
Glancing over her shoulder, hair half in her face, she saw the door was now five feet away, and if she ran well enough, she could be hiding in the stairs. Around the far corner came the figure, and her vision blurred in anxiousness, and when she blinked she saw Balalaika muttering into the phone, quickly walking to her door. Blue eyes widening when she saw a stanced Revy, she paused, then repeated a Russian sentence she was in the middle of.
The music coming from one of the rooms changed to a woman wailing. Revy gritted her teeth, but her eyes went doe-eyed when she saw the tall blonde nearing her. Balalaika nodded to her, as she came to the door and brushed open her military coat to grab a small ring of keys from her jacket pocket. Revy wanted to touch the wool coat again. Lowering her hand from her gun, she put it on a hip and walked towards the apartment. Balalaika flipped through the keys with a long pointer finger, her tone sharpening as she rapidly replied in Russian.
Revy hugged the folder to her chest again like she could hide it. The blonde stared it like she was trying to see into its contents, shoving a key into the lock and after a moment of struggle, managed to twist the key to the side and the door audibly unlocked. She opened the door and jerked her head towards it, her hair spilling down her chest. Revy walked into the apartment, hand trailing the wall until she found a switch. It was pitch black, aside from the glittering lights that poured in through the slits in the blinds, a mix of stars and yellow city windows and car headlights. The buzzing kitchen ceiling lamp flicked on.
Balalaika continued the conversation, which sounded more one-sided than anything, with her interrupting the man with increased irritation, turning around to re-lock the door, siding a chain an inch across the door frame for extra measure. Revy bent down to untie her boots, fingers neatly tugging the laces, when the blonde came behind her and slid a hand through her drying hair, nails barely touching her skull, dancing across the soon-to-be scar. She pushed Revy's bangs back, then stepped back towards the door, and put her coat on the rickety coat-hanger. She then went to the kitchen, leaning on a white counter, and waited for the person on the other side to finish speaking. Tiredly, she sighed and muttered a reply, then spoke what sounded like a farewell, and clapped the phone shut.
"Sorry about the mess." The only mess was forgotten glasses in the sink, and a pile of documents on a small table to the right of Revy. Reminded, she touched the folder she had set beside her.
"What mess?" Revy was genuinely confused, sucking on the inside of her cheek. She slid off her holster, taking the pressure off of her sore shoulder, leaving it on the crowded table. Kicking her boots aside, she laughed. "Sis, I'm not expecting the Chateau Marmont."
Balalaika gave a quizzical raise of an eyebrow.
"It's a fancy hotel. Old Hollywood, type, Marilyn Monroe shit. What's up?" Revy asked, jiggling a leg impatiently. She stood up, and bounced to the kitchen. She went close enough to where they weren't touching, but enough to where, if she wanted to, she could loop and arm through Balaika's and nuzzle her shoulder.
"Earlier, I decided to get rid of those men. The tongueless ones." Balalaika clarified, dispassionately setting her phone down. She tapped her fingernails, her naked lips pressed in a thin line.
Twisting her mouth, Revy wondered where all those tongues went. In little boxes, maybe, like the one the cigar was locked up in. "Did anyone beside those assholes find out about this? Fuck, I hope not."
"It was a close call. A few of her informants already had the information before we exterminated them."
"Heh. More of a reason to hate that cunt. Bet she's pretending to be celibate when she's out with Benny."
"Rebecca," Balalaika's tone changed. A sort of voice that was going to say I need to tell you something, and it would turn out to be terminal cancer. She sounded as if she was answering a question that no one asked. Revy's chest stopped moving, and every inch of her froze. Nodding her head, she looked up at Revy and took her in. There was a hesitancy in her gestures, as she waved a hand dismissively. "I wanted to tell you this when we were fully alone. We are finished on that situation."
That had to be a lie. Revy exhaled, closing her eyes, her lips upturning in shock and disbelief. Tell me no tell me no, no fucking way. This was so soon. She left the kitchen and cracked her knuckles, abandoning the folder on the back counter, just out of reach where she'd notice if the blonde went to touch it. "Benny was going out with her tonight."
"He was." the Russian answered.
Revy's stomach felt greasy. Suddenly she wondered if she had overlooked something. All because of her huge mistake, and her error would have been disastrous if she had lived. Maybe it was her flickering conscience, dragging itself to the surface from it's oubliette. This was one of the kindest actions Balalaika had ever done for it. "Janet's dead?"
"She is dead."
Revy was silent. The city lights bled through the window, and went towards it like a moth, the old floors creaking under her. The threadbare curtains were pushed aside with barely a swipe of her hand; everything in Balalaika's apartment seemed aged. Crossing her arms, she watched the small cars dart across crumbing roads. The sky was spilled ink, and the ocean was a dark mass in the distance. Somewhere, Benny was wondering where Janet was.
"Are you angry with me?" Balalaika asked delicately.
Revy wanted to say yes, you killed Benny's slut-head girlfriend, or does this mean we wait until another fucker tries to do this again? Would we survive that? But she had no idea how to feel. She then shook herself out of her thoughts and looked over at the blonde. Balalaika was quiet, her gaze questioning. Facing her, Revy slowly shook her head, blowing a hard strand out of her face. "Angry?"
"She was Benny's girlfriend."
"Yeah. Yeah she was." Revy's mouth twisted. It felt odd to speak of Janet in past tense, no matter how relieved she was. "When did this happen?"
"Before we went to visit you and Dutch." Balalaika replied. She was waiting for Revy to get upset, and they both stood there simmering in the cooled air.
Struggling not to take the bait, she gnawed on her lip, giving Balalaika a once-over. "I have no clue if I should feel fucking fantastic or like, fuck, I dunno. How do you feel about it?" Revy scratched her head, her nails grazing over the scrape embedded in her scalp.
"She was a disease. I regret not stopping her from spreading it sooner. You do too, I can tell."
"The only thing fucking stopping me was Benny, y'know? I saved his ass a long time ago. Him and Janet were good." At Balalaika's suspicious expression, Revy grunted. "And yeah, she was a total slut. Slept with half of Roanapur, and she'd probably have twelve kids by now if she didn't have cash." Hesitating, she played with her fingers, her guns glinting cold metal in her peripheral vision. "How did you do it? With that gun of yours?"
"Do you truly want to know what happened, Rebecca?"
Revy nodded. If she spoke, she would have sounded weak.
"I grew tired of waiting for her to follow the breadcrumbs to me. The day after we agreed to separate, a thought came to me. How to finally get Janet into my grasp? The idiot who wanted to get you killed? If, say, a handsome stranger promised sex at this rather nice hotel, with champagne and even a bit of information on Hotel Moscow, would she pass it up?" Balalaika chuckled minutely, but there wasn't much humor on her face. "When she arrived with him to the hotel room, it was me and two of my men that she met. After… settling her down, I asked to be alone with her."
Swallowing, Revy listened with rapt attention. She wanted to disbelieve it all the same, she thought of Benny and all the time he spent with her, and now he was one of the many men in Roanapur whos girlfriends suffered a similar fate. Then she remembered all that Janet said, being called a lovesick woman-child , of how Balalaika would eventually burn this city down.
"Janet and I talked for a while. She was difficult at first, but eventually she learned her place and we have a conversation. Miss Greenback Jane was a very concise individual. Too bad she can't run her mouth wherever she's going now." the older woman sounded bone-tired. The victory in killing Janet was short-lived, Revy assumed.
"What else happened? Fuck did she say?"
"She told me about the phone tapping, the fights with you. How you were a whiny little brat, and that I believed. The rest… I had to make sure she was telling the truth."
An urge to test her rose in her throat. "And then you shot her with your gun."
"I didn't shoot her." Balalaika brushed her hair out of her face with a sigh. "It was in my pocket, of course. But seeing her there- caught completely- a bitch who was trying to make a mafia boss bend to her idiotic will, who was going to get you killed, I simply…"
Revy wanted impatiently for her to continue, coming closer again to the blonde, wanting to get near and far away at the same time. Balalaika had turned her back to her, gripping the small kitchen counter with her shoulders hunched. Part of her hair pooled on the white surface, while the rest cascaded down her back, the light shifting off of it when she adjusted her posture. Revy came close enough to where she was an arms length away, the air conditioning causing the back of her neck to prickle.
"At the end I told her every single thing she had heard was true. Then she died." Balalaika responded coldly.
"I know she was going to die. Bitch deserved it. Benny'll… he'll… have to deal, I guess." Revy wasn't sure what to do with all the emotion swirling in her chest. Guilt, relief, and so many others that she didn't want to shift through.
"What will you tell him?"
"Nothing. What I'm more worried about is him thinking I did it. If he thinks that…. fuck. But I ain't gonna say that it was Hotel Moscow. Are you kidding me?" Fuckin' A, Benny.
"Wise choice, Rebecca." Balalaika sighed, her body threatening to sag. "I had figured you would have been furious, all wrapped up in your feelings like a little child."
"I'm not that little." Revy replied, stepping close enough to where her chest brushed Balalaika's hair. Delicately, she reached up and pushed the locks down enough to get a good look at what was holding her hair up. The Russian stiffened under her touch, but Revy ignored her and booked a finger underneath the band as she rose herself on her tiptoes. Her body, though taught with stressed muscles, felt so inviting. Another feeling rose in Revy's chest, and it was warm. "You did it for me? Killing Janet? I know you did it for other stuff but…"
"I'll let you decide that." Balalaika whispered huskily. Revy managed to untie the elastic around the shaft of thick hair, and it fell free down her back, ending at her tailbone. Without a second thought, Revy first ran the tips of her fingers through it, then adding pressure, before her hand was stroking and sliding.
"You seem like you haven't slept in damn near forever, Sis. I keep saying it, but damn, you need to."
Tilting her head back, Balalaika's eyes fluttered shut before she forced them open. "That's because I haven't. I'd lay awake, thinking of ways to murder that traitorous little bitch, knowing that this whole nightmare was stopping you from lying by my side. I'd reach for you in my bed and you weren't there. You didn't answer my calls. I wanted to get this over with."
"Tonight I am gonna be by your side, you drama queen." She combed through thick hair, nails brushing Balalaika's back. Revy could feel her muscles relax themselves.
"You're not leaving here until morning." the blonde promised, with an upturn of her lips.
"Of course I'm not leaving. I gotta take care of you, as thanks." Blushing, Revy ran her fingers through Balalaika's thick hair, catching on the small tangles. The Russian relaxed, the tension leaving her body. Her hair was soft to the touch, and smelled of her perfume and gun oil and shampoo; Revy leaned in and smelled the locks deeply, like she was going to forget.
Balalaika turned her head slightly, and Revy's nose brushed her neck. "By doing what, hmm?"
"I'll make sure you won't feel alone again." I'm sorry.
The blonde opted not to reply, her jaw tight, even from behind Revy could see the tautness. Sadness clouded Revy's features, and she wanted to step away, her face burning from what she said. Her breath quickened as she played with the blonde locks idly, combing it and wanting to hide herself in it.
"I won't let anything hurt you, not while you're by my side. I'll never be sorry for what I have done. One day you'll understand that."
"I-I'll figure it out soon enough. Oh, damn it, Sis . You don't gotta say that. Now, uh, let's get to bed. Who knows when we'll have this fuckin' chance again?" She blushed, hard. That was all she ever wanted to hear. A false promise, however she wanted to believe it anyway. A fluttering feeling in her aching chest, Revy tugged at her arm. The blonde took the lead, then her head whipped to the side.
"Wait, is this for me?" Balalaika froze, then to Revy's horror, flipped open the folder. Lunging at her, Revy pushed her away, practically climbing on her, groping her shoulders and feeling the flesh underneath when she pushed the neckline of her blouse askew. Twisting away, Balalaika grabbed Revy by her arm and yanked her off, breathing heavily, her eyes wide and dead and surprised and furious. Revy was scared that she had set her off; maybe she'd get choked or punched, eyes squeezing shut as she tried to wiggle away. Nothing came. Not a back of the hand, or being shoved into furniture. Or glass being thrown in her face, mixing her tears with hot blood. Breathing hard, she opened her eyes and attempted to pull Balalaika's attention away from the now-open folder.
Why did I fucking even bring this? This is the worst fucking time. She failed. Balalaika was wide-eyed and not breathing, the strength of her hold on Revy's arms fading. Revy stared at the contents too, and to her shock in the struggle the newspaper was peeking out from underneath the photo. The blonde let go out of her, and walked to the table at a glacial pace. The photograph of a younger her surrounded by men dead and alive caught her attention first, and Balalaika picked it up in still hands.
"Sis? Sis, let's look at that later. Let's go to bed, you're fucking exhausted." Revy declared. The Russian traced a finger along the mountains in the background, her eyebrows knitted in a frown. Revy edged close to her, wringing her hands. "I wanted to show you them. 'Cause I thought it'd bring us closer."
Swallowing audibly, Balalaika set the photograph down, and raised the newspaper to read better. Revy touched her arm, trembling, regretting what she had done. Luckily, she didn't pull away, instead reading the newspaper, paying special attention to not crumpling it. "That child was hiding in an old crate. It was forever before we were able to lure him out. But, he took my hand. He didn't stop crying until we reached camp. This photograph… I wasn't aware until I was taken aside. I was in a newspaper back home, I was told. However…"
"However?" Revy's hand went to the small of the blonde's back, sliding underneath the crimson jacket and touching the crisp blouse.
"Nothing important." Balalaika continued to read, smoothing a bent corner. She caught Revy's saddened gaze, and they looked at one another, and Revy pointed at the other photograph.
"What's this one?"
"We were simply talking amongst ourselves, I remember it not being as hot as it was the whole week." She took the paper in a steady hand. "The next day our supply line was cut off. Where did you find these?"
"I…" Revy rubbed her lower back, calluses catching on the fine fabric. Long blonde hair tickled her wrist.
Balalaika was staring at herself, who was scarless and hair bleached even paler by the sun, but her skin was tanned and her cheeks flushed by sunburn. She didn't know, then. What would happen to her, and that made Revy clamp her teeth together she wouldn't think of asking anything. Instead of mentioning her appearance, the Russian set the photo down, her hand moving to gently press her nails on it, like she was committing it to memory. "Despite what you may think, I didn't turn away from my home. It turned from me. From all of us. Some of them succumbed to heroin. Like all addictions, it took more to have the desired effect. They slowly killed themselves. What won't we do for some false semblance of peace?"
"Relief from what happened?"
"Oh. That takes more than a syringe." Balalaika was unable to pull her gaze away from the table. "That takes everything. Doesn't it, Rebecca? You with your cigarettes and beer. Rock with his huge mouth, trying to become the philosopher of the century, his so-called hobby, seeking solace from his normal life. Has he ever had everything taken from him?"
Revy thought of a beer bottle. "Hell no."
Without looking at her, the older woman's shoulders shuddered. "My second-in-command died because of dirty money. That was a new beginning for me. His death. Your new beginning was coming here, was it not?"
"Yeah. It was." She didn't want to talk over Balalaika, nor bring up herself. There was nothing to talk about, anyway. Slipping her hand out from under the raspberry jacket, she touched the blonde's arm.
"Why did you come here?"
Revy blinked rapidly, shaking her head. "Escaped prison with a bunch of chicks. It was a fucking hellhole, like jail always fucking is. We went separate ways after that. Figured since I was good with killing, I hitched a ride here. A city built on murder and blood, thought I'd only see that in movies. Better than what Hollywood could come up with, anyway."
"I tell you so much about myself, Afghanistan, how they marred my body, and these pictures… yet you don't tell me much."
"Because I'm-"
"A street rat? Don't bother, I know that, but you have more to yourself than that."
"I can't. I fucking- it was shitty. Everything was."
Balalaika ignored her reply. A strong lack of empathy was in her voice, because she had opened herself up, and here Revy was, trying to act like she had no past to a woman who's life was surrounded by past events. "You had no mother, like me. Did you have-"
"No. Fuck, I can't. I can't talk about that."
Balalaika brought a hand to the faded scar on Revy's forehead, pushing aside her mussed bangs. She knew without being told, but what she didn't know was what Revy did to him. Whenever the thought came to mind, even Revy couldn't remember. When the child services found her a few days later, they told her she had wandered to a dumpster behind a restaurant, and dug through until she was chased away, without a care in the world that her father was gone. Revy didn't know what they were talking about, and had gone into a rage, thinking they were lying. It was hard to see with her swollen eyes; her legs and arms stung, and whatever she ate she would just throw up anyway, so she had no clue if she actually did eat, and they dragged her into the car easily.
"One night," Revy began, her mind teeming. "I was out on the street, cause I got my ass kicked, and I sat on the sidewalk chilling cause I didn't give a shit," I was crying. "and then I got beat up some more," by a cop and then some, don't forget that. "and I was so pissed that-" you shot your daddy "-I ran away." Tidbits of a story meshed together, she wasn't lying per say, but her voice was high and reedy. Her eyes kept darting to the left, and she wanted to run out the door, and her guns were close by, and she just wanted them under her arms. "Poli- Higher up people said that I have outstanding warrants, so don't say I never achieved anything." A bleak joke to end on. You mean police just say police you dumb idiot.
Balalaika stroked her hair, but her eyes were far away. "Poor Rebecca. You sad little thing. So many people have failed you, didn't they? So many people..." she was back in Afghanistan again.
"Whatever. I don't care anymore." Eyes stinging, she squeezed her eyes shut.
"Don't you." the blonde said to herself.
"We keep doing this to each other. Always putting each other in fucking pain." Revy confessed, her cheek brushing the Russian's thick hair. Balalaika was stiff, not melting like she earlier when she came close. She wanted to stop thinking about the past. Touching Balalaika made her forget what she had said, and what had happened was done, and she had killed everyone in her way so far, except for Janet. Benny popped in her mind again, wondering where she was. I am fucking lost if I look back.
Balalaika frowned. Her voice ached with pain. "Perhaps this will be the last time. I cannot do this again, Rebecca. Not anymore. You've heard it all."
Revy's eyelashes flickered, wet, and she smiled a sad smile. Trying to lighten the mood, she urged Balalaika to turn to her. To attempt to be consoling. "Well... where did you grow up? Are you a city girl?"
"How can you tell?" Balalaika said emotionlessly, her eyes staring at the door like it was burst into action. She faced Revy, her head tilted in a way that she found cute.
"I'm from New York. I can always tell."
Balalaika leaned her hips against the table, her stocking-clad knees clicking together almost girlishly, her spine stiff. Her red suit stood out against the champagne walls, and Revy could see scars on her legs that strained against the thin black nylon. "Exactly what you probably already think. Moscow."
"Is that big like New York?" she slid a hand along the blonde's thigh before she could help herself, her middle finger trailing up, then adding her pointer finger until she was stroking brazenly, up and down, and Balalaika slowly spread to thighs to allow Revy to come closer. That's why Benny's nicknames included Moscow. Oh, fuck, Benny. Revy eyes went downcast.
"It's a city." The blonde blinked, and her eyes were becoming clearer.
Revy's face flushed, and her ducked her head, playing with a run in her stocking. The muscle of her thigh flexed as if testing Revy's patience. "Is it cool there?"
"We do have winter, yes." Balalaika teased, reaching to barely touch Revy's bare waist. Her nails lightly stroked her skin, and tingles ran up Revy's back.
"You guys got spring? Summer? In fucking New York it was just winter or summer. Like a light switch." Revy said, quietly, pouting at the clear lack of knowledge present in her high voice and the way she had to brush her hair out of her face. No dignity here.
Balalaika gave her a aw look at widdle you! smile. Pinching her waist, she laughed until Revy squirmed from the pain. "We do, silly Bekachka. I'm sure it's the same in China, as well."
"Haha, bring up China to the Chinese bitch. Japan was enough for me. Fucking Yukio." Revy said, thoroughly vexed at the mocking nickname.
"Rock's teenage girlfriend?"
Revy bit her lip, staring at Balalaika's parted mouth. The scars on her chest dipped below her blouse, her cleavage threatening to spill out. There was a whisper of cream lace just peeking out. Balalaika was aching, how she was spreading her legs beckoning Revy to press to her body. Her pupils were dilated, her chest heaving. Revy's hand trailed up further before retreating. "She wished. Am I your teenage girlfriend?"
The nails pressed deeper, making Revy gasp. Balalaika's eyes narrowed into thin slits. "You're not actually a teenager, are you? You're already so ruinously young."
"I sure as hell don't look like one, don't I?" Between her legs, a dull throbbing drew her attention. She removed her hand to the blonde's repressed disappointment, and went to adjust her blouse, covering up the lingerie because Revy wasn't able to think.
A chuckle met her joke. "A prude, all of a sudden? Don't want to offend an old soldier?"
"Shut up, you're not old." Revy struggled from kissing her, wanting to keep the tension, to see if Balalaika would break. Her eyes still losing their clouds. There was a distance between them, with the blonde having one leg in the past. She had to be lured out. "Aren't you gonna order me around? Let me make you feel better."
"Stupid question. You're not apart of my unit. You're just a little Asian girl who I can drag around, a kotyenok." Radiators and pearls and being used when an ex-military captain was bored.
Revy blushed harder than she had this whole time. Still, she didn't touch her, no matter how welcoming and how good Balalaika looked. The blonde moved to sit on the table, her heels still touching the ground. If Revy had bent at the knees, she would have seen the apex of Balalaika's thighs. With Balalaika's hands on either side of her, supporting herself on the small table, her chest was thrust out in a display of lustful power. Her hair was mussed and curling fro the humidity, her cheeks flushed. Revy's mouth was wet with desire, with a want to ease the pain she caused. Balalaika ignored the document she was sitting on; the folder with pictures of her momentarily forgotten.
Revy forgot about the pictures too. One of the major lessons that she was taught in life was that it was better to have it in front of you than having to think about it. So she placed her hands on either side of Balalaika, and moved in, her breath fast and whines wanting to be pulled from her mouth.