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Post by darksstars on Nov 14, 2011 0:05:36 GMT -5
It was a quiet and slow afternoon in the shop. Barely any customers had come in, not really different from any other week days. People mostly came in the evening or the week-ends, except for those few lost souls that found it on completely randomly on their way to some other destination; brought in by something catching their interest in the shop's front window.
Ivan was used to these peaceful days. Sitting at the counter, he was currently spending his time trying to repair some old writing machine. He could have sold it just like that; a lot of them were bought with the desire to turn them into some interesting decoration element, but since he had all the right pieces, Ivan thought he might as well try to fix it.
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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Nov 15, 2011 21:27:26 GMT -5
Alfred was not lost. Alfred did not get lost. Men did not get lost. He was just a little confused as to how he ended up...here. Wherever here was. He'd taken the correct streets for the last 30 minutes, and had turned right at that coffee shop, and then turned left at the cafe with the unicorn on the sign, but maybe he was supposed to turn right there too. He wasn't really paying attention when Mattie gave him the directions to the restaurant. There was some really cool show on the TV about a time machine telephone booth or something. Once the TV was on, there was no reaching Alfred.
So here he was, completely confused. He settled for wandering down the alley until Matthew decided to call him. That was usually a safe choice. He stopped in a couple of shops and read a few tabloids at a corner convenience store, bought some English candy, which he decided was amazing, and then stopped in front of an antique shop. It was empty, as far as he could tell, but the "open" sign was clearly hung in the window. There were a few watches set out at the front, and an old violin. Alfred was never the type to care much for antiques, but when his eyes found an old World War something Uniform cap, he couldn't stop staring. He pushed his way into the shop and glanced around all corners before he spotted a large man with light hair and a distinctly Russian nose. It may have been a stereotype, but that nose was really Russian. Alfred's conscience, which sounded disturbingly like Matthew, told him not to ask if the man was a Communist. Alfred only half listened to that list voice.
"Hey! This is is a pretty cool shop you have here. Are you Russian?"
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Post by darksstars on Nov 15, 2011 22:08:27 GMT -5
Ivan had noticed the other man stop in front of the shop for a brief moment. He wondered if it was only one of those that would get lost around here, finding the shop on their way to some other destination. Not recalling having ever saw him before, the Russian watched to see if he would step through the door, perhaps drawn in by the shop's particular aura or by an object in particular.
As Ivan partially predicted, the man walking in, giving him the chance to get a better view of this new potential customer. He looked quite young, probably a few years younger than Ivan was. There was this bright spark of curiosity in those blue eyes. Curiosity, that probably was what had brought him in. He didn't look like the usual customers the Russian was used to see in his shop.
Ivan was a bit taken aback by the man's quite direct question. Was his origin that obvious? People usually guessed by his accent, but this was probably the first time someone asked him right away if he was Russian.
"Ah,yes, I am." he simply answered. "Are you looking for something in particular?"
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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Nov 19, 2011 23:50:45 GMT -5
As a child, Alfred had often been instructed to stop touching things. At museums, Alfred was usually that over excited child who would bust past the barriers to touch some hundred year old sword. On one occasion, when he was about six, his family took a trip to France to visit his uncle. The family had gone to the Lourve to see the history of art that had been gathered in the museum. Once they came up on the Mona Lisa, Alfred used his size to the advantage and ducked under the thirty foot thick wall of people to the painting, and completely ignoring the guards there, planted his hand firmly on the glass protecting it. While he would brag for years that he came within 5 inches of touching the Mona Lisa, the family was kicked out of the museum for that stunt.
Given his history of curiosity and touching things, it should come as no surprise that as soon as he was in the shop, Alfred was touching all of the antiques. It might not have been a good idea to touch the obviously fragile ceramics, nor the dusty butterfly collection perched on a chair, but dammit, Alfred had to touch them. If he didn't touch them, how could he know that this was really happening? He'd always been the sort of person who had to be completely engaged in something to really appreciate it.
"So you're a Commie?" He squatted down to peer into a case. " How the hell does a guy like you end up in London, doing this?" Alfred popped up with a grin. "I bet this stuff is super expensive. Where do you find it all?" His fingers drummed on the case as he glanced around the shop. He'd never really spent much time in an antique shop before, and while he was certain Matthew would be upset with him for being so late to lunch, he didn't really want to leave either. At least Matt hadn't called yet.
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Post by darksstars on Nov 20, 2011 0:37:54 GMT -5
Ivan usually took great care of the objects present in his shop. That was something he had learned while he still worked with his Uncle; their was a story behind each of these antiquity and it was best not to alter them so it didn't lost trace of the past associated with it. However, it was true that the shop's displaying wasn't the most organized of all. It gave a certain charm to the place, making it all the more fun to look around and make unexpected discoveries. Even after having been working in this shops for a few years, Ivan still found objects simply hidden behind a box or under a chair in a dusty corner.
Ivan watched the other man as he went around in the shop. It was certainly amusing to see, most people that entered here seemed to think that everything was going to turn into dust at the simplest touch and handled everything with the utmost care. As long as he didn't break something, their was nothing wrong with him taking the time to touch and explore each objects.
Has the man spoke once more, Ivan couldn't help but sigh. He thought people had forgotten that old word used against people of his nationality, but it seemed like he was wrong about that.
"My country has not been under communism for 20 years now," he simply stated, bringing back his attention to the typewriter he was currently working on. "So the answer is no. As for your other questions, the shop was given to me by a relative and I find most of these things pretty much everywhere, I just know how to look for them."
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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Nov 29, 2011 21:06:48 GMT -5
"Are you sure about that?" Alfred asked, having turned from his new preoccupation with an old bayonet that had been stashed with several old umbrellas. He swung around the pointed tip for a moment before recognizing it as more of a stabbing weapon and the proceeded to stab the air ferociously. Despite whatever Matthew said, Alfred was sure he would have been a great soldier. "I'm pretty sure Russia is still communist and therefore an enemy to the greatest country in the world." Never mind the presidents recent attempts to improve the relationship between the two countries. It's not like Alfred had time to read the news between rounds of Call of Duty and work.
With a laugh, Alfred pranced over to the shop owner and pointed the bayonet tip at him. "We should have a play fight or something. Do you ever do that with all this cool stuff? I bet you'd get more customers if there was a little more life in here." He grinned and waved around the tip a bit more before poking it at the Russian's chest.
"A relative owned this place? So you grew up here or what? Are you a Commie through and through or just a British mutt Commie?" That might have come out wrong, but Alfred was legitimately curious. "You know, America has a ton of Russian immigrants. Why would you live in England when you could live in America, land of the free and home of the cheese burger?"
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Post by darksstars on Dec 30, 2011 11:26:25 GMT -5
Ivan was a bit worried as he saw Alfred grab the bayonet. It wasn't sharp, but it was a quite old weapon and he didn't want to have it damaged; he reminded himself that perhaps he should have a better storing system for some items.
He listened to what the other man said, and it all sounded so typicaly American. Or at least it from his perception of Americans. Were they all so loud and obnoxious as this one? Ivan sighed and yanked the bayonet from Alfred's hands after the other man had started to poke him in the chest. He placed the weapon on counter near him.
He didn't felt like answering all the questions that the other man had asked him, but he also felt that he didn't really have the option of ingnoring them either.
"I was born in Russia." he started to answer. "I started living here for my studies at University."He paused for a second and looked at Alfred "And what about you? Why are you here and not in your precious America? And do all American spent their time asking people they just met moments ago millions of questions? Because that would partially answer why I living here and not America."
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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Jan 8, 2012 16:55:43 GMT -5
"Oh dude, give that back! I'm a customer, you're supposed to be nice to me!" Alfred tried to grab the bayonet back, but the Russian had already put it down somewhere. "What if I wanted to buy that? Or what if I'm one of those secret shoppers or something? I could give this place a bad review." Not that Alfred would. He was actually enjoying himself very much, and yanked a sword cane out of an umbrella stand.
"So you're really Russian then, huh? Weird. Do you drink a lot of vodka? Do you bleed vodka? I heard once that in Soviet Russia, vodka bleeds you!" He laughed at his own joke and daintily stepped about the room with his cane. "Hey, hey look! I'm British!"
"Huh? You're a student still? Wow dude. What are you doing running this shop then? That seems kinda rough." He pulled a top hat off another counter and placed it on his head. With his best British accent, he explained "I'm here for the tourism, I am. Just a spot of site-seeing with me dear cousin Matthew. Tut-tut cheereo!" With a laugh, he bowed low. "I'm just seeing the world, man. Came back from visiting my uncle in Paris, and now we're taking a look at London. Hey hey man! Calm down! I just wanted to get to know you better. Didn't you ever hear you're not supposed to talk to strangers. With a little chit chat, we won't be strangers and I can talk to you all I want!"
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