At least her neighbor was nice, Masha thought to herself as she descended the flight of stairs to the main lobby. She was running low on milk, and to Masha, that was like having the plague hit… only ten times worse. Besides, this would be a good opportunity to check out the local grocers. Anyway, she actually didn't know who lived on the other side of her.
.-.-.-.-..-.-..-.
Meanwhile, Konstantine was having a miserable day. Volke wouldn't shut his mouth and was now ranting on about how much better he was than the measly head of the Intelligence Branch of the Yuriev Family. Joseph was not happy, and the two got into a shouting match, resulting in a headache for the poor platinum blond man.
With a sigh, he leaned back to view the cloudless sky from the bench in the park that he currently sat on. And the boss still wanted him to find that girl… Ah, speaking of which. Konstantine checked his watch, finding that it was growing closer to 3. He'd spent too much time in one place. Hoisting himself off the bench, he stood and brushed himself off before starting down cement walkway.
.-.-..-.-..-.-.-.
Sweet Jesus. Masha had hit the jackpot. Not only did they have milk, but rice pudding too. She made a mental note to come here first when she had cravings. Masha had found a Grocer a couple blocks away… right next to a bakery. Not that she would go in. While she still did have cravings, the idea of getting a whole chocolate cake to shove in her fridge that every other woman did made her feel nauseous. In fact anything sweet smelling at all made her feel that way, but rice pudding… rice pudding was the fucking best.
Masha wandered down to the rack of spices at the other end of the store, pondering if she had some nutmeg stashed away somewhere. AH, what the hell? She flung a small vial of it into her basket before heading to where the cashier was. He was a nice guy… kind of. He gave her a weird look, like weird as in suspicious. (since you're in third person, it's best not to use "I")
With a shrug, she walked away from the grocer, setting her sights on returning to her home.
..-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-.
The grocer's clerk frowned. That woman… looked familiar. He didn't know where he'd seen her and he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something. Ah, well, no matter. The cashier scratched his head before greeting the newest customer who was ready for a purchase.
-.-..-.-.-..-.-.-.
Masha pushed her way past crowds as she made the way to her building, which was within eyesight. "C'mon, c'mon. Outta the way." She had never seen so many people on a sidewalk before.
"Oi! Watch out!" A voice called out one second too late as a person ran into her. The bag of groceries tumbled onto the sidewalk, much to her chagrin. And the jerk didn't stop to help her. At least her pudding was safe. She hurried to retrieve the items before they were crushed under the feet of the many pedestrians.
"Quite a pinch you're in, ya?" Someone asked as the held the vial of nutmeg in front of her face. Raising her vision, she spotted the man who was currently kneeling in front of her.
"Oh, um, yes. Thank you." She took it as he began to gather the other remaining things. Masha sat silently, observing him. He looked somewhat familiar, like she had seen him somewhere before. She narrowed her eyes and rubbed her chin.
"Is something wrong, ya?" The man in front of her looked concerned, her paper bag held in both of his hands. A braid of platinum blond hair fell over one of his shoulders as she stared up at him.
"No… it's nothing. Thanks for the help."
"Is no problem." He helped her up before returning her bag to her. "You new here, ya?" He looked her up and down.
"Just moved her about two weeks ago."
"Aha! Konstantine thought as much!" Oh so his name was Konstantine, was it? "You lack accent of New Yorker." He was a fine one to talk. He spoke like a Russian immigrant, probably was one.
"I suppose I do, I moved here from California. So your name is Konstantine, huh?"
"It is." He confirmed it with a nod, smiling down at her cheerfully. My, wasn't he a happy fellow?
"Mine is Masha, Masha Johnson."
"Ah, Masha. 'Bitter.' You Russian too, yes?" She could do nothing but nod. This… wasn't the type of situation she was used to. Growing up, she never did like talking to cheery people. They pissed her off for some reason so she avoided them, but this one… he could be hard to get rid of. "Small world, eh?[1] We Russians always seem to find each other. Is great thing, ya."
Masha steeled herself for a rant as she stood in front of him, clutching a bag of groceries. Agh, the pudding was going to get warm… aha! An excuse! "Well, I most certainly agree. We all seem to have a talent when it comes to finding our own kind." He nodded, urging her to go on. "Perhaps we'll find each other again someday." And now he was puzzled. "I have to get going now, though. I have things I need to put in my fridge."
Please buy it. Please buy it. .
"Konstantine understands. Will find Masha later on then. Farewell, ya." He ruffled her hair before walking past her. She turned back to glare at him, a hand working at straightening out the mess.
"See you later!" And now she was going to go up to her apartment and never come out again.
.-.-.-.-.-..-.-.
The cashiers hands slammed onto the counter (scaring a nearby customer in the meanwhile) as he suddenly realized something. He remembered where he saw that woman before! Some blond weirdo came in looking for her. He even showed the clerk a picture. Seemed kinda shady, but maybe it was just because of his accent. Either way, the clerk shrugged to himself before returning to his duties. What did it matter to him anyway?
.-.-…-.-.-.-.-.—
Konstantine rummaged through his pockets as he stood in front of a vending machine. A small folded up square fell out onto the ground, catching his eye, as he retrieved a small wad of ones from the depths. With a grunt, he bent over to reclaim it.
"What is this?' Ah, wait. That's right. It was the picture of the woman he was supposed to find. With a small rustle, it unfolded in his hands as he stared at it. "…"
BANG!
A group of nearby teenager jumped as the man slammed his head against the vending machine.
"Sasha. I am very sorry. Konstantine has failed you again…" he half groaned, half sobbed.
The picture fluttered to the floor, revealing the smiling face of a brunette.
.-..-.-..-.-.-..-
"Afternoon, Masha."
"Good afternoon, Luck. Leaving rather late, are we?" She greeted as she passed her neighbor. It was 5 in the afternoon for Christ's sake! Did he have the late shift or something?
"Not really. We haven't been getting much business lately. To be honest, I don't know whether to be happy or concerned." He complained.
"If anything, I'd be happy. You've got more time off to do something, after all."
"I guess you have a point there." Yes, Victory is at hand! Luck gave Masha a cynical smile. "If there was actually something to do here."
She frowned, "Now don't say that. There are plenty of things to do. I'm sure of it."
"You forget, I've been living here most of my life."
"Ack! You're right about that." Masha fidgeted at her door before turning to grin at him sheepishly. "I still have much to learn, huh?'
He waved it off as he walked down the hallway. 'Don't concern yourself over it. You'll get used to it in no time. I'll see you around."
"See you!" She called after him as he rounded the corner. The lock clicked shortly before she practically kicked in her door.
"Never again… will I accept help from strange Russians. Today… was so… awkward." The pudding was in the fridge, thank God. Masha flopped down onto her couch and stared up at the ceiling.
"I hate my life."
..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
I'm not entirely sure I like this chapter… it was weird to write…. But then again I don't really plan this stuff out. I plan as I go. I've got the initial plot down but…
Masha really does mean 'Bitter', looked it up a couple of days ago. It kinda suit's her, doesn't it?
Yes, I have practically looked up the names of all my Russian people in this story. But you know what the one I couldn't find the meaning of? Yuriev. Yuri-fucking-ev. I was about ready to throw my computer into the wall. It's a surname. How hard can that be?
[1] A line from somewhere… a certain game… that involves zombies… which one. Mwahahahahhahaha!
Masha: That does it. She's officially gone mad.
Psh, you're the one with the craving for rice pudding.
Masha: And you're the one who finished a whole tub in a day.
Don't forget the chapter too~
Clerk: Explains why it sucks so much.
Wha-! How did he get in here?
Clerk: I was fired for traumatizing the customers with my frequent hand-slamming
Masha: Now look what you did.
Clerk: Yeah! Look what you did.
Masha: Shut up, I'm doing the talking here.
Clerk: Yes Ma'am
Masha: And now you get to do your own disclaimer. Serves you right for being so cheap. Let's go Mr. Clerk
Ahem. Baccano and its characters belong to Ryougo Narita and not me. If it did, Claire really would be God. However, Masha, Mr. Clerk, Konstantine, and Alexander belong to me. Now review! Before I unleash the wrath of Ladd's shotgun!
Ladd: You know what, Lua… I feel like I'm missing something.
MWAHAHAHHAAHAHHA!
