[ At the place he dropped her off at, the apartment by the train tracks she lives in with her sister, not the sleek mansion with floor to ceiling windows they met in not 48 hours prior. It matters where they were, because it matters how they were taken, thrown in a bed together without either of them realizing until morning. Igor thinks of solutions, of surviving. He's uprooted his entire life once before, and isn't in the mood to do it again, but if the decision has been made for him, he'll survive. It's what people like them do, they find a way. They don't have trust funds or daddy's lawyers to fall back on.
He starts opening the dresser drawers. First thing's first, get dressed. Now he chances a glance at her properly, as he holds a sweater out to eyeball and see if it'll fit. Close enough, he thinks. (She's beautiful.) Igor pulls a baggy hoodie over his head, and brings the sweater and a pair of sweatpants on the bed with him to join her near the window. Out of arm's reach to touch her, but near enough that she could take the clothes from his outstretched arm. ]
Maybe it's me who needs you. [ Placating. Maybe. He'd rather have a familiar face than not, even if it hisses at him. ] My English isn't good.
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[ At the place he dropped her off at, the apartment by the train tracks she lives in with her sister, not the sleek mansion with floor to ceiling windows they met in not 48 hours prior. It matters where they were, because it matters how they were taken, thrown in a bed together without either of them realizing until morning. Igor thinks of solutions, of surviving. He's uprooted his entire life once before, and isn't in the mood to do it again, but if the decision has been made for him, he'll survive. It's what people like them do, they find a way. They don't have trust funds or daddy's lawyers to fall back on.
He starts opening the dresser drawers. First thing's first, get dressed. Now he chances a glance at her properly, as he holds a sweater out to eyeball and see if it'll fit. Close enough, he thinks. (She's beautiful.) Igor pulls a baggy hoodie over his head, and brings the sweater and a pair of sweatpants on the bed with him to join her near the window. Out of arm's reach to touch her, but near enough that she could take the clothes from his outstretched arm. ]
Maybe it's me who needs you. [ Placating. Maybe. He'd rather have a familiar face than not, even if it hisses at him. ] My English isn't good.