Blues Run the Game (Anya)

[Anya Vasiliev]

"Not too many sweets." Anya chided lightly, laughing to herself at the thought of Sean surrounded by a little boy and a little girl. The perfect little family unit. "I'll make sure they call you Uncle Sean." She added, feeling a little misty eyed at the idea of having two beautiful children to dote on and cradle in her arms. She could feel herself getting somewhat emotional as she thought on this, so she shook the thoughts from her head and instead focused on Sean.

Anya knew that there was only a slim chance that the board would consider it, but she remembered vividly several miserable students during her stay as a young teen, and those now that brooded and felt utterly despondent being stuck so far away from home. She giggled softly at the tickle, toes curling under for a moment. "Even if it doesn't make a big change, it's still planting a seed." She mused, lacing her fingers together.

"Mmm. Perhaps we should book the summer holidays off together? I remember I promised you a trip to Russia, and maybe we could visit Europe on the way." She laughed softly, imagining Sean in a beret with a string of onions around his neck. "Josh could come too, I'm sure he'd enjoy exploring and setting fire to statues in other countries." It was a gentle, fond tease, and her eyes sparkled with mischief.

She wrinkled her nose at the idea of paying Sean with cake, but it was clear her dear friend wasn't going to accept money of any sort, so she resigned. "Alright, but i'm going to make sure it's a huge affair with an awful lot of icing." She smiled softly, then moved her feet off of Sean's lap to get up and grab the menu from the fridge, looking down at it and tapping her lip in thought.

Once she returned, Anya rested her head on Sean's shoulder and looked over the various different foods. "I think movies, cake and a little bit of talking sounds like the perfect way to distract me." She said honestly, eyes still on the menu. She wasn't relishing the idea of being sat by herself, and now with Sean's promise she could almost look forward to the time. Though it was always so bittersweet, and she often spent the day staring off into nothing.

"May I provide some of the food for this fictious party?" Anya asked, feeling better now they were looking further into the future. "And some of the lovely Russian vodka I keep for special days, too." She mused with a little grin, imagining some of her friends being a tad drunk. She reckoned Cobalt may well be hilarious if he just put some liquor in him.

But then her attention returned back to the menu and she clicked her tongue. "I think the peking duck, the little starter variety box, the egg fried rice and the sweet and sour chicken will do me. And maybe some crispy seaweed." She paused then, laughing. "I sound like a glutton."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Although one might not believe it, given his consumption of baked goods, Sean did have a concept of moderation when it came to sweets, and he wouldn’t overload children on sugar. He would also respect any babysitting instructions that parents gave him, the way that he did when Flo let him watch Gwynie. Then he smiled warmly at her other comment. “That would be wonderful. I do try to be a good Uncle.” He had done his best with Ryan, and he had always wished to have more nieces and nephews.

“That is true,” Sean replied with a nod, and he agreed with the sentiment. It was a start, and perhaps when there were enough metahuman faculty and students that the program could change effectively, then with the plying, the Board might be more open to the notion. Until then, there was no harm in musing over the future. He was also aware of the fact that his childhood relationship with Hammel wasn’t the same as what many others had experienced, for better or for worse.

“You did promise a trip to Russia,” the telepath agreed, but that had been before the past year had destroyed everything in its wake. With the attack on Hammel, Josh’s injuries, the other encounters with M.S.A.D., the injuries, new students, Claude’s resignation, and now this fallout from Zac and Mia’s behavior, he couldn’t imagine taking the time off to visit Russia, regardless of whether they also took time to visit Europe. Then he inwardly frowned at the mention of Josh, not merely for the setting fire remark (although that remained a touchy subject; Sean doubted he would ever come to view that as an amusing anecdote) but also due to his friend’s behavior recently. That Josh would actually think he could sever ties...but the telepath forcibly redirected his thoughts. Not tonight; there had been enough misery already. Instead he managed a soft smile. “The last time I was in Europe was to visit Kocher. It would be nice to go again for a pure vacation.”

The “threat” caused the telepath to chuckle lightly. “That’s your choice, of course. You know it’s impossible for me to turn down cake.” Icing or frosting would go over well as far as he was concerned, and he had yet to eat anything that Anya had baked which he had disliked; he enjoyed all of her baked goods. This was why he considered her paying him back with cake to be not only fair but desirable as well, if she insisted on paying him back at all.

Sean wrapped one arm around Anya’s back when she settled on the sofa again. He peered at the menu, although he largely had the selections memorized, since this was his favorite option for takeout. He nodded once in agreement with her description and for their itinerary for her anniversary. “Then that’s precisely what we’ll do. We’ll get through this together,” he promised, because he would do everything he could to help her weather this date.

The telepath nodded in the affirmative; for their fictitious party, he would happily let her provide food; he enjoyed her cooking, and she liked to cook, and thus everyone would be satisfied. “Of course you may. And the vodka would always be welcome. We can make it a potluck of sorts.” Then he smiled at the thought.

“Not at all,” the telepath said with a shake of his head, denying the claim that she sounded like, or was, a glutton. “I’ve ordered more than that just for myself before.” He pulled a pencil off the coffee table and began circling the items off that she listed. Then he added his own selections and reached for the telephone to dial the restaurant’s number. The restaurant was not on speed dial, but that was because he rarely required emergency Chinese food the way that he might require emergency baked goods. After he placed the order, and assured them that this wasn’t all for himself but he had a date with a beautiful woman, he hung up the phone. “They say it should be here in thirty to forty-five minutes.”