Creature Comforts

The Grid-----> > > > > THE GREATEST GENERATION < < <


Coordinates : 2 2

A medium-sized room full of free-standing shelves that neatly used to hold the Pobeda's stock of films. Though mostly spared from combat, shell blasts and bombing vibrations have knocked much of the inventory to the floor, film and metal canisters lying in heaps.

Since foreign cinema imports were banned in 1931, the Pobeda has only carried Soviet-made films. If one sifts through the mess, many of these movies are the old silent films of the 1920s. Only those marked after 1935 have an added marking on them to proudly say they have 'sound'.

It is currently dusk.

Yulia is one-handedly poking around in her medical satchel, a frown wrinkling her brow. Her right hand is resting on her lap, all bandaged up, and she's got an unopened tin of tushonka at her side. A frustrated sigh as she looks up from her bag, distant eyes scanning the room.

Dimitri sits up on the ground from his nap abrubtly. His frame had been previosuly hidden by one of the overturned shelves, but now the upeer half of his body is revealed and his eyes are scouring the room.

Novikova is up and about! Kinda. Novikova's fit for duty once more and helping out as she can. She looks pleased, although there's still a rather large bandage on her leg yet. She smiles seeing Yulia. "Hello there," She greets the nurse warmly. "Something wrong?" Headtilt. Then she notices Dimitri. "… did he sit on the movies?"

"Good evening, Zoya," Yulia murmurs, eyes still hopping about from corner to corner of the room. "I can't find my spoon…normally I keep it in my bag, but…" She finally settles on looking at Dimitri. "I hope not. Those tins don't look very comfortable."

Dimitri is secure in the knowledge that there are no Fascist pigs around and a look of relief crosses his face. A stretch and he waves to the girls. A shake of his head to Novi and points over the the corner where he's stacked the movies that were in his shelf/bed. A headtilt at Yulia, "It's not like Stalingrad has been about the comfort of the individual soldier thusfar, ma'am." A grin crosses his lips.

Novikova smiles at Yulia then hmms, frowning. "I'll help look," She offers. She smiles aat Dimitri. Phew. "The Circus was a fun one," She notes. "It's too bad you missed it," Novikova sets about to helping look for the spoon. "Where did you last see it?"

"Tell me about it," Yulia mutters in response to Dimitri, wincing as she moves her hand from her lap. She rises up, using her other to brace herself. "Maybe we can watch another one before…. well, before we leave. There was that 'Volga-Volga', right?" she says half-heartedly. "I thought for sure I put it back in my bag.. I was by the water containers." She hrms and crosses over to look.

Dimitri stands up from his makeshift bed and begins to walk off before tripping over part of the shelf and smashing into the wall. He slides down it until he hits his knees, "Stupid depth perception…or lack thereof." He just writhes in his lack of dignity for a moment before just deciding to sit on his heinie on the floor.

"You can't get up but you're a sniper?" Novikova lifts one eyebrow and furrows the other. "You must be some sort of savant," She boggles. Novikova shakes her head. "I can give you a hand up if you wanted to go somewhere." She is helping hunt around. "Hopefully, though Comrade Sergeant seemed doubtful. We may not be here too long."

Dimitri rubs his face, now read from the collision with the sturdy Soviet construction. "Shit…yeah, just keep making fun of me, Novikova." He grins over at her and shakes his head, "Doctor says it is almost healed up…won't regain my perfect vision though."

Over at the water troughs, Yulia watches Dimitri's ballet moves with some concern pursing her mouth. "What were you trying to get, comrade? One of us can grab it for you." She looks down into the container. "But you can still shoot, right?—" And there's her spoon at the bottom. "Er…. found it."

Novikova huffs, "I wsn't making fun of you. If I were, I'd have compared you to the drunken flamingo or a dancer," She poses dramatically. Ballet dancer! Man in tights! Novikova smiles, "Well. I guess we're all missing bits and pieces. I can help if you need anything," She nods at Yulia. "Oh. That's good I think." Better than finding half a spoon?

Dimitri shakes his head at the two, "I don't need help. Things just sneak up on me from my right side every now and then." A shrug and he unties his bandana from his head. He begins to slowly rub his injured eye.

An apologetic look as Yulia fishes the spoon from the container, "Yeah…" But how'd it get there? She doesn't remember. It bothers her. As she's wiping it on her sleeve, she glances at Dimitri. "Ah, comrade, don't rub your eye. The pressure's not good for it." Not incriminating, but rather gently, for she can understand the urge.

Novikova pauses, "If it helps, I am sure the ladies love a man in a bandana. Very mysterious." Beam. Everything has an upside right? "If you're sure though Comrade. And be careful. The Nazi snipers don't play around. One nearly took my arm at the school. It was kind of scary how he just disappeared after." Sigh. She smiles at Yulia. See, Novikova can roam around! She is pleased.

Dimitri shakes his head at Novi, "Nope. Doesn't help at all. I'm still half blind." He chuckles and nods to Yulia, understanding. "Sorry, I didn't even realize what I was doing. He pours some water on his bandana and wipes some of the caked blood off of it before wrapping it back over his eye.

Yulia comes back to her spot by Novikova and practically affixes the spoon to the inside of her bag. Stay put! Or wait. Don't stay put. She takes it out, remembering dinner was waiting, and reaches for the tin. A returned smile to Novi. "I'm glad to see you up and about, comrade. And snipers." A sigh. She grips her knife, preparing to open the tin. "But I've heard ours are much better at returning the favor." A nod at Dimitri.

Novikova takes her spot. She nods, "I think I'd be good at it if I could just - get that sitting still thing down pat," Sigh. Poor Novikova. She watches yulia a bit before looking to Dimitri. "It's alright. They had to get me to sit still after my leg got hurt." That's probably quite a feat in and of itself. She smiles at the two. "I'm glad to see you both."

Dimitri shakes his head at Yulia, "Bullshit. I've killed like two people since I joined this unit." He chuckles and begins fiddling with the screws on his scope. A look up at Novikova, "Well, you only want me around to laugh at me." He chuckles.

"As long as there are Germans about, you can increase that number…" Yulia fumbles about with her tin and knife, trying to find a way of bracing it against the wall, her feet? Doing this with one hand is… nearly impossible, and with her track record, kind of dangerous. "Um, Zoya or Dimitri, would either of you mind?"

Dimitri leans over takes the tin from Yulia. He slips his stolen gravity knife out and pops the top off of it. He smiles and hands it back to her. He wipes the knife off on his shirt and folds it back up.

"Not at al—" But Dimitri beats her to it. Novikova smiles. "Thanks Comrade," Novikova nods at Dimitri. She settles in to sit near Yulia, "I suppose so. Either way, I bet they'll have chores for me now that I can walk about a bit," A shrug at that. Novikova considers it. "Did I miss dinner? Oh well. I'll get the next one." Beam. She seems to be in decent spirits.

The door opens from the projector room, Maschenko bringing up another clump of velvet in arms for Sokolof and Taktarov to cut up before they leave this place. "Comrades." He dumps the heavy fabric by the wall, running the back of his hand along his chin as he straightens up. "Oh Comrade Yulia, be careful there! Do you want me to get that for—…?" And Dimitri's got it then. "Excellent."

Elise returns from elsewhere in the cinema. Not from watch, as she doesn't have her rifle along. Careless should the Germans attack, but she does have her pistol at least. And she's carrying an armful of velcet too, though separate from Maschenko's gathering. "Comrades," she greets.

"Thanks," Yulia gives Dimitri an appreciative half-smile as she sets the tin on the floor and spoons into it. Russian spam for dinner! "There must be another tin around somewhere if you are hungry, Zoya." She notes Novi's good mood and adds non-chalantly, "Have you seen comrade Taktarov lately?" When Maschenko and Elise enter, she pauses just before a bite, to give them a nod. To Maschenko, she adds on. "Sorry, but you are too late." A faint smile. "But if you wouldn't mind looking at my hand when you're done…"

Dimitri nods to Yulia and says, "It's a miracle I didn't stab myself." He chuckles. A look over at Elise and he waves, "Hello there, Elise. It's good to see you." A smile and wave to the Doctor, "You too."

"Comrades," Novikova greets them warmly. She seems to be in better spirits, smiling at the doctor (THE doctor. Not just anyone. An Angry Ukranian Bread Doctor if you will, fortified with 14 vitamins, minerals and RAGE!) and her dear cousin. "How are you? Do you need some help?" She offers. "I saw him a bit ago, but mostly i am glad I can walk about." Though her face turns red at the mention. Ahem. She just smiles.

If only Novi knew Ukraine's rage when it comes to Russia — but glasnost is still a good 45 years in the future. Maschenko rolls his shoulders with a soft crack, lifting his chin in greeting in the direction of Dimitri and Elise. "Sure, comrade nurse. Let me just find my things, here…how's it feeling?"

"You too, Comrade," Elise says to Dimitri. "Eye still troubling you?" She heads over to Maschenko, holding out one of the pieces of velvet, which as it turns out is wrapped and tied around a piece of wood. "Comrade Doctor, I made a few of these for you if you liked." Velvety splints! She looks over curiously to hear Yulia's answer, and gives her cousin a slight smile, "Glad you're feeling better, Zoya."

Yulia looks over at Novi with a nod of agreement with Elise's words, but then catches Elise's glance over to herself. "Erm," she stalls a bit, looking down at her hand, then back at Maschenko. "It's letting me know it's not happy about healing, let's put it that way." She holds it out, voice going lower under the other conversation. "It's actually quite painful.."

Alas, poor Novi is ignorant and adores Maschenko as a friend. If only she knew. She smiles at the doctor and winces at the shoulder crack. "Is that a normal noise?" Her eyes widen. She looks to Elise, "That's very clever. And da, I'm sorry I fuss so much." She looks abashed. "If you need anything, just let me know," She offers to the others quietly. "They haven't come to collect me for patrol just yet." She shifts a bit.

"That's age," Maschenko tells Novikova, smirking. "Try and stay young, that's my advice." He winks at her and picks up his satchel from the wall, turning back around as Elise offers velvet and wood. The slight sliver of standoffishness he's had towards the German seems to melt, some of the lines between his brows smoothing. "Did you make those? Ah, comrade. Thank you. Here, just put them here…" He opens the satchel for her to place them inside, and looks over to nod at Yulia. "I'd imagine. It hit quite a lot of muscle, it might take a while. But let me see what I can do for the pain tonight. One moment, okay?"

"Don't be sorry, Zoyuschka. You hardly fuss at all." If anyone's the whiner of the family when it comes to injuries, it's certainly Elise. "I hope you're able to rest a bit longer." Before being reclaimed for patrol. A nod toward Yulia to echo the offer of help, and she'll deposit the splints in Maschenko's pack. She looks a bit relieved by his reaction, having felt guilty over the newspaper thing. If only she'd realized it was an ancient paper and not recent news. "I figured it'd keep the splinters off. I made one big one for a leg or something, but then I thought it would be too hard to carry." There are a couple different sizes among the collection, at least. The velvet padding is tied on with little velvet strips tied.

Nodding slightly, Yulia watches Maschenko, back straightening with anticipation as though he promised to magically produce a cup of hot tea and a comfy pillow. "Those look good, Elise," she says absently, taking a moment to watch the velveted splints get deposited. "Who knew how useful the curtains in this place would be?"

Novikova grins at the smirk then laughs as he winks, "Oh, you're not that old otherwise my professors were hanging out with dinosaurs and taking their dates to the pyramids." She winks back. "You don't look that old," She considers Maschenko a moment. "But I don't know that I've been around long enough to be good at judging age," She admits with a shrug. "I tend to guess younger unless I need new shoes or a new switch," Avoiding being thumped is a life goal for Novikova. She smiles at Elise. "Perhaps." Nod. She watches her cousin and the others. "Hands are different, they have so many little nerves and things packed in RIGHT THERE. I mean don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change it - nothing beats a good backscratch or sewing or fine things we can do with them, but do they ever smart sometimes. I almost stitched myself to death trying to make a pillow," She wrinkles her nose. "Good thing I didn't get that job I guess." Sigh.

"You too, Comrade," Elise says to Dimitri. "Eye still troubling you?" <re>

Dimitri is back from taking a leak or something and he nods to everyone in the room, "So doctor, will you please take another look at my eye?" A glance over at Elise, "It's still painful to open." He shrugs.

"Don't worry about ones so large for a leg, Elise," Maschenko shakes his head. "We'll bring velvet along and use what we can find then for a board, if we have to. These'll do for fingers and whatnot, my thanks." He waits for Elise to finish transferring the splints and nods to Dimitri. "Sure, comrade. Let me see Yulia's hand and then I'll have a look." Which is where he's headed now, crossing the couple steps to where the nurse is and sitting down on the floor next to her. "What job, Zoyenka? In a textile factory?"

"Thanks, Comrade Yulia," Elise says to the nurse, before nodding to Novkova. She doesn't comment on Maschenko's age, not trusting herself to be able to lie hat convincingly. "A new switch??" That baffles her a little. She nods sympathetically about the hand injuries. "They do at that," she agrees with a frown, unable to keep from glancing down at her own hand. "I think I'd like working in a factory. Like when they were building those tanks. Aleks worked in one, didn't he?" Splints delivered with a nod to Maschenko, she heads back over to her bedroll by Novi and sits down.

Especially around here, a doctor's work is never quite done, but Yulia only wishes she was on the helping end of things rather than receiving care. She privately thinks that they're all looking slightly older by the day. "Besides, you have to sit still to sew," she adds in there about Novi's sewing regrets. "Or else you'll wind up poking yourself." And probably in the hand! Yulia wasn't a great seamstress herself, apart from stitching people's wounds, but she looks a bit sadly at her own hand. Then at Elise. "What did you like about the factory, comrade?"

Novikova smiles as she listens. "Yes. I thought dresses and blankets and things were lovely. But… I've as much talent at it as a donkey does poetry. So it goes," She shrugs. No sense doing a job you're abjectly terrible at? Sigh. Alas, Novikova's not lying. She's a bad judge of age. She seems to be a bad judge of many things, in fairness. She laughs softly, "You never got spanked with a switch? You are twice the good person I am. At least." She wrinkles her nose. She's impish, amused at her lot. She nods at Elise. "It can be soothing. And kind of rewarding. Aleks does, da. He makes bottle caps, he told me. I am happy growing things though." She admits. She smiles at Elise as her cousin sits. She grins at Yulia. "That too. What kind of work did you enjoy most?" She asks them in turn.

Dimitri nods to the doctor and begins to do push-ups. When he can't practice shooting…he must exercise! It's the Russian way!

"Well, Da, I know what a switch is…" No comment on whether one was ever used on her. Elise is no angel. Probably no girly switches for her German Papa, though. "But why would you want a new one?" Elise remains baffled. She nods to Novikova. "Da, it seems like it would be rewarding. To go from nothing to a tank." Battered hands gesture expressively at the change, widening like A TANK. "It's amazing how it all works together. Everything so organized." So orderly. So Prussian. Ahem. "And everyone working together." She looks over at Dimitri. "Well that's one way to keep warm."

Maschenko arranges two bottles, one of his curved needles, and a freshly washed rag. The last in the list is draped across his knee to serve as a table for Yulia's hand, which he now sets about unwrapping from its old dressing. No comments about Novikova's age judging. "Well, a textile factory doesn't take much 'talent', per se. Some time ago when it was real tailors doing the work, then you needed the fine hands. Now the machines will do it, so I've been told." He turns over Yulia's hand over carefully. "So long as everyone knows the timing and does their part."

Yulia keeps to the conversation as a distraction from the inevitable, but can see that wicked looking curved needle out of the corner of her eye. She isn't scared— just eager to be done. Her lips thin with the pain of her hand's movement. "Da, I suppose," said in response to Elise. "Of course, it's somewhat like that in medicine too." She smiles a little.

"Well, if they whack me with it enough, it breaks. So then they get tired, get a new one or throw it at me," Grin. Apparently being whapped didn't faze Novi much. She shrugs. "That's how it goes." She smiles. "I don't know about building a tank. I'd probably be tempted to paint on it or something," She admits. "Make it a little artistic." And that folks, is why Novikova does not get to play near the tanks. Pink tanks don't really scare anyone. She blinks at Dimitri. "Iiiiiii bet he has a girlfriend he's trying to impress." Beam. "So he works hard." Nod. She's an expert on the subject. Surely. "Since you can't really show someone your sniping…" She reasons, ticking off her fingers. "Really? Hm. Wow, it must be really bad if I'm bad at that too." Sadface. No sewing for Novi. She smiles at Yulia and tilts her head. "Were you a nurse before this too?"

"You think so? Medicine seems like it's more a fine craft - like Comrade Doctor said about tailoring. How do you figure?" Elise sounds curious at Yulia's comment. She hehs at the image of Novi painting tanks. "I'd love to see your tank all decorated with little flowers and trees." Then a smirk about Dimitri. "Well, that's a good reason, I suppose." Elise, on the other hand, would not be an expert. Equally surely.

Maschenko is probably quite grateful for their distracting Yulia. He has to clean this first, using some well water from a bottle and dribbling that in a few pours over the gummy injury. The cloth over his knee soaks it up, water turning red as it runs over her skin, and he hunches down closer to get at bits of dirt and crust with his forceps. Yeah, don't watch this. His blue eyes flicker to Dimitri as they chatter about the poor man and he smirks, looking back at what he's doing.

Yulia lifts a brow at Novi's mention of being whacked about with the switch, wondering what heinous crimes could have caused such harsh punishment. "Well, that's right too," she says slowly to Elise. "But just about working together — being organized." Her mind goes back to misplacing her spoon, and gets an inkling on how it possibly wound up where it did. "Da, Zoya. I worked at the public hospital, the same one comrade doctor did." A look over to him that's regretted once she sees what's going on with her hand. She tears her eyes back to the other girls.

A nod, "Well. I think they mean they have to pay attention to what the others do. If YOU give me an asprin, the doctor and the nurse each give me one too without knowing that I already had some, I could get really sick and the asprins would be wasted," Novikova considers. "Things like that. I wouldn't honestly know," She admits. She smiles at Maschenko then looks to Yulia. It's probably not that Novikova is bad, she just has a habit of being a smart alec. Which doesn't really fly well these days. "And besides, I bet he's shy too. Maybe I'll find him a flower." Beam. "I wonder who it is?" Ponder. Who WOULD Dimitri like? Novikova ponders this. She's sitting beside Elise, near Yulia (Who is being tended to by Maschenko) and chattering quietly. Probably before a roving officer or NCO scoops her up for duty. She tilts her head at Yulia, "I see. That's very selfless of you. Sometimes I feel really young besides people my age with families and big jobs already. I wonder if I'm just slow? Like … a plant."

Elise nods slightly. "Da, I can see that I suppose. There is organization, certainly." Still, she seems unconvinced that it's altogether like a factory. A smirk about Dimitri. "I somehow doubt he'd like a flower. Besides, even if he has a girl it's likely nobody here. Unless it's a secret." There's only so many in the squad, after all. "He could be married for all we know - has anyone ever asked? He keeps to himself mainly." Yulia's hand gets a sympathetic wince before Elise comments to her cousin. "They may have big jobs but you were going to university. That's big too."

Maschenko flicks the forceps aside, dislodging a clump of…something. As the conversation winds and strays onto this new topic, the doctor's gone quite silent and his eyes don't lift. Yulia's hand gets another small sluice of water, and then he unscrews the cap on his antiseptic. Hospital smell, the bottle upended into a sort-of-clean cloth.

[Soviet] Kazimir says, "When a custom tailored vet asks me out for something wet, when the vet begins to pet I cry Hooray! But I'm always true to you darling in my fashion, yes I'm always true to you darling in my way."

"But I'd imagine a midwife would understand more about the process of bringing a tank into this world," Yulia adds on with a smirk, then softens a bit whens he looks at Novi. "If anything, you ought to be like a plant. Nothing wrong with them. Wouldn't that be wise if you are going to be a botanist? Better understand your seeds and chlorophyll…" A slender shoulder raised, shrug. She doesn't have much to add in about Dimitri's soap operatic romances. Ahhhh teenagers. She starts watching Maschenko's progress from the corner of her eyes.

Who knows? Novikova ponders this. "HHmmm. I didn't mean for him. Maybe he's very shy so he thinks he'll impress her with muscles. But I would think being slender would be good for a sniper too. So you can hide," A visible sniper - well, one doesn't like to be seen. She nods at Yulia. She smiles. "I suspect so. Although - it's true! I'm good at absorbing sun," She wiggles her fingers for emphasis. "Although a midwife seems like a really big job too. Babies seem really delicate." Boggle. "I don't know honestly," SHe looks to Yulia and Elise. "I haven't asked Dimitri, but maybe I should. He talks a bit then wanders off. I bet that's where she is," She considers. She's hooked on this idea. "Oh well. Stranger things have happened, yes?"

Yulia's comment gets a blank stare. "A midwife would?" Maybe she's the slow one. She shrugs to Novi. "That's a good way to impress. He's kind of old for it, though." Impressing girls or having muscles? Can old guys not have muscles in Elise's world? "Aleks is skinny, but I bet he's got lots of muscles, carrying around that big tank gun all the time." Poor Maschenko and Yulia, subjected to the chattering of teenagers.

"This'll sting," Maschenko murmurs to Yulia, before he sets the damp cloth on her skin. Cleaning around the edges, not inside the nasty wound. Relatively quick, that, and now for the fun part. He pours a tiny bit of the diluted antiseptic into the cap of the bottle and picks up the curved suturing needle, already meticulously threaded, drawing the metal through the sharp-smelling stuff. Optimal? Not in the least, but desperation lowers standards. He has, no doubt, grown more and more used to said chattering of teenagers this last month or two. At Elise's comment about poor Dimitri being too old for such things, he kind of smirks. "A man his age isn't dead," he makes the first comment aloud in quite a while, mild as ever. And now it's sewing time, poor Yulia.

"Of course," Yulia says quickly to Elise, in an attempt to justify her midwife equals tank worker notion. "One goes through an entire process, seeing something through, and when finished, you have a living, working thing where there wasn't any. Like a baby. Or tank." Two completely different things. Maybe it's a stretch? She shakes her head, giving it up. Her shoulders stiffen as Maschenko cleans off the margins of the wound and Yulia sucks in a breath. But still manages to chip in, "And besides, if you two are so keen on finding out if comrade Dimitri has a sweetheart, just go ask him." She gives a stiff nod at Novi, as if giving her approval. Why do teenage girls tapdance around the obvious answer to their romantic problems? Admittedly, she was no genius at their age, either, but…

Because unfortunately, Novi is gifted(?) with an insatiable mind that seems to move faster than her mouth or hands or - well, most of her. She tilts her head. A nod. Then a laugh. "Maybe that's why he's shy. He thinks he's too old and that snipers are scary. A sniper would be hard to bring home to mom. 'mother, my sweetheart is hiding in the bushes. 200 yards away'," She grins. Then her face turns red. It's almost Pavlovian with the name really. "Probably. It looks like it'd be fun to use though." Says she of petrol infamy. Novikova smiles at Yulia. "That is a neat idea. It's really important I think. Dad joked that I was dropped, maybe that's why?" She ponders and shrugs. Guess the midwife wasn't paying attention! Then a pause at Yulia. "Well, that's too easy. I doubt he'd give a straight answer anyway," Her nose wrinkles. "But I may ask." As if manners or such ever stopped Novikova. She doesn't comment on the smell and nods at Maschenko, "At least I hope not or they've found a way to put the dead to work. Must be hard to keep up that payroll. Foreveeeeeeer," She looms dramatically. And really, does Novikova seem the type to have an aptitude for romance? Nay, the teen barrels over it as if she were a tank and it a small orange cone. "Romance is funny anyway. It's like dancing around a hole. You have to do it just right or you look like an ass and you're stuck in a hole. And your feet hurt. Possibly your face too depending on who you just spoke too."

Elise aahs as Yulia explains. "That makes sense. Kind-of." Amused when Novi's face turns red, she points to it. "You always turn red every time his name is mentioned. It's sweet." Amused and perhaps a little envious. When Yulia talks about Dimitri, she motions to where the man used to be doing his pushups and says, "Well I would but he's wandered off again. Besides, I wouldn't say we're /keen/ on it." Dimitri is ancient, after all! "Just idle conversation. And Da, I know he's not /that/ old," she comments wryly to Maschenko. Talk drifts away from Dimitri and she says, "So you know that new fellow from university?" She winces again as the suturing begins on Yulia's hand. "Do you want some water or anything, Comrade Yulia?" Since she has no vodka to offer.

Rather than look amused at the youthful naivete about romance, Maschenko's silence becomes that much more of a distracted wall. He tugs slightly too early on a bend of the needle, yanking Yulia's skin by accident and prompting a grimace. "Shit, sorry…" Focus, good job there. He exhales through his nose and his brows draw together as he gets through the last stitch. "Nearly done…just…there we are." He snaps the thread.

Aargh teenagers. Yulia tilts her head forward a touch, her eyebrows scrunch faintly at Novi's allegory of romance. "… Or you hit a mine while dancing and that's the end of it," she says flatly. "And the new fellow— the one we picked up the other night? And — maybe a little water. Thank you, Elise." Though she desperately wants vodka at the moment. That's it from her, as her other hand balls up in a fist as Maschenko starts stitching. She fixes a hard stare at the floor….then jumps a foot when yanked on, eyes darting over to see what the heck is going on, watering from the sting.

Novikova just eyes Elise a moment. "Erm, you're not going to believe me if I told you it was because I really like red?" Her eyebrows lift. She smiles at her cousin, "Thanks. And it's true." She bobs her head at the talk of Dimitri. "Comrade Kazimir?" Novikova replies, "Um. A little. Kind of. Like, I saw him in the library a lot and you don't really use the library to jabber because that's really annoying," She explains. She tries not to flinch in sympathy for Yulia. She grins at the nurse, "Da. Like that." and the audience might find it hilarious /or/ tragic depending on their mood. Russian audiences are tough. "He seems kind enough. Um." She blinks. "I guess - I guess I should get out of the way. I am sure the others would have to pick up my slack if I skip out anyway." An unthinkable sin in this era.

"Red is a nice color?" Elise offers with teasing helpfulness. She nods to the description of Kaz. "Da, I can where that would make conversation hard. Nice that he likes books," she says offhand. She gets up to bring Yulia a cup of water, handing it over. "Here you are. Let us know if you need anything else." She glances back over her shoulder to frown in concern at Novi. "You should rest while you can. Chances are we'll be moving out soon enough. I can take your shift if they need someone." She's finally got the use of all limbs back again, achey hand and missing finger nonwithstanding.

A very good thing Maschenko wasn't holding the end of the needle too tightly, or else Yulia's jumping might have left a good bit of her skin behind on it. "Whoa whoa…" Down, girl. "We're done. Come on, have some water and let me dress this. Another day or two and you won't even remember how bad it was." Unless he makes a mistake like that again. "They sent a farmer to university?" Mind caught up to the rest of the room, he finally processes what Novikova had just been saying. Where ordinarily the tone of words like that might be disbelief, it's not quite that. Not much different of a background, himself.

A murmured apology to Maschenko and Yulia drinks her water, setting aside the cup to return after. She brushes her eyes with the back of her hand, and waits for the bandage with a little frown, almost petulant. That hurt. "Uhm—" She clears her throat. "What happened to his group, did he say?" Turning slightly back to Maschenko, she asks in a lower voice. "I suppose… we don't have /any/ vodka left, do we." The water was nice, but just ain't cutting it. She isn't holding out hope though.

"Sort of. They came to use seeds, do research and some did take up botany or other sciences that might be useful on a farm," Novikova closes one eye. "It's hard to explain our relationship. I knew him in passing. But I wouldn't be surprised if he had classes too. It wouldn't make much sense if he didn't understand his farm or its equipment," A shrug. At least Novikova thinks so. "Or perhaps he was training. I'm not sure. I'd," Dramatic pause, "Ask him!" Beam. She just smiles mysteriously. Though it fades at the mention of his unit, "Well. He mentioned bombing and splitting. It happens in this war, it gets confusing," Novikova shrugs, rolling her shoulders. She doesn't seem eager to elaborate. She grins at Elise. "And sometimes people would just come for the library too." She shrugs. She smiles at her cousin. "Nyet, cousin. I need to walk or my leg will be useless," She notes. "Then they will be doubly mad at me. You rest now, you just got back," Novikova adds. "It's really not fair for everyone else to work but me anyway." Smile. With that, Novikova sighs, draws her jacket close, picks up her SVT and starts out.

Elise nudges Novi good-naturedly. "It's a relationship now, is it? Poor Aleks will be so jealous." There's a small smile, rare enough these days, as she teases. It fades when Novi gets up to go out, but Elise nods, understanding. "If you're sure you're feeling up to it. Take care." Though deep down she knows that Maschenko wouldn't let her go if she wasn't able. Still.. sigh. Bereft of a cousin to tease, Elise glances over at Yulia and Maschenko and then takes her fiddle out of her pack. She hasn't tried to play it since her hand was hurt but now runs the resin over the bow, frowning a little at the feel of the bow in her hand.

"I'm not going to go prying," Maschenko tells Novikova, mildly. "It was an idle question." He's busy wrapping Yulia's hand now, handling this with cnsiderably more focused care than he did her stitching. This mood isn't so distracting as the melancholia that the last one left, and the gauze goes on in a supportive few layers. "Alright, Yulia, there we go." At her question about vodka he gives her a sympathetic glance. "I have just a trickle or two left of a ration. Here. Call it a peace offering." He does feel quite bad about hurting her, starting to dig through his satchel for his mostly-drained old ration.

"See you soon, Zoya," Yulia says as she heads out. She just hopes Novi won't overdo it now that she's close to being her fluttery self again. The room seems awfully quiet in the transition. But she hears the musical pings from the strings of the fiddle as Elise pulls it out, and looks over, impressed that the fiddle has made it thus far. Back to Maschenko, and a saddish smile comes over her. "Thank you, but no harm done, comrade doctor." At least none that requires a peace offering! She takes her hand back, examining the bandage. "I haven't been sleeping well since the— er, leaving the factory. The vodka might help."

The fiddle is certainly a bit more battered than it started off, which was not pristine by any stretch. But Elise cares for it like a treasure, always tucked carefully away in her pack. "This war would be a lot more bearable with more vodka and more music," she declares idly, mouth set in a dour line. While Maschenko handles the one, Elise will take care of the otehr, playing a cheery little tune. Hopefully Lesina of the no-sound-during-movies won't come charging upstairs to yell at her for making noise. She plays quietly, at least.

Maschenko opens his mouth to say something, but seems to think better of it right then. He just holds the small flask over to Yulia, nearly empty as it is. He never seems to drink in front of the others though — either he shares quite a bit…or he just drinks alone. "We'll all get through it," he tells the nurse under his breath. "There's no other choice." His blue eyes turn Elise's way as she starts to play. "That's a nice one."

Sitting back with her treat for being so good at the doctor's, Yulia takes a tiny sip after arranging one of the curtain-blankets around her. It's so chilly, with winter knocking at the door. She closes her eyes and listens to the tune. Quiet as it is, it's much appreciated. The room doesn't seem as confining or small, and even the pain in her hand lessens to a dull twinging. "Da, what is the name of that, Elise?"

Elise shakes her head at the question, smiling a little. "Thanks. I don't even know. Just an old folk tune." Gypsy, actually, but Elise doesn't know that. "I've always liked it." She goes on playing for a little bit longer until either her hand gets tired or Comrade Sergeant tells her to knock it off, whichever comes first. A mix of classical and folk tunes, all upbeat. No dirges tonight.

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