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[But watch how well he stills now that he's comfortable and warm. Of course laughing... now that's another story. He laughs, albeit quietly, at Sandy. It hardly moves him at all.] I only got two in prison, and none of the big ones. I was never there for very long.

[He holds her eyes as she studies his face, studying her back.] All our tattoos are that, solnyshko moyo. We do not call ourselves the Mafia-- we are the Brotherhood, in Russia. We are all brothers.

[And now she's getting cold... but that's all right. Sandy's drawing right now, expression perturbed for the briefest moment. She sees the laughing, Pasha.] Well, color me surprised. How long were you there, if you don't mind me asking?

[There isn't a trace of fear, only curiosity, her hands slowing down from composing her drawing.] Forgive me about the terminology. I'm used to... what we call your Brotherhood in America. So... Madonna and child... you've been in the Brotherhood for a while?

[Then a pause and Lasandra suddenly looks uncertain.] Solny.. moyo? What does that mean?

I was in prison three times but it was less than two years total. A slap on the wrist, all of the things considered. [It's good that she's not scared. It may say something about his willingness to do things that are not right with the law, but he would never hurt her. Anyone like her. Just because a man's hands are capable of violence does not mean that he does not have a choice in the matter of inflicting it.]

Using Mafia is fine. Brotherhood in English is... awkward. It doesn't have the same quality; in America we are the Mafia. [Pasha almost shrugs, but catches himself.] Yes. The Madonna and child mean that I have been in the mafia since I was a child. And solnyshko moyo. [he says it more slowly the second time.]

It means, 'my sun.' A... I forget what you would call it. Just something between friends.

Three times. [She considers for a moment, pencil whirling over the page in silence as she considers. She doesn't recall... well, there was a flash of something at his thigh but she hadn't had the chance to really look.] What were the convictions? You don't have to tell me. We're pretty open minded either way here. You'd... be amazed what some people get away with.

Mafia then. Geez, picky. [This time she doesn't catch the shrug, focused on rendering his shoulders, the muscles of his body.] So I figured one out... now to figure out about the roses.

Friends. [She chews on her lip, pencil not moving, head bent.] ... Would this be a bad time to confess I'm physically attracted to you? I'd like to be friends with... a little more? I mean not too much more, I'm not really- Oh Jesus.

[Sandy covers her face with her hands to hide the rarely seen scarlet. She's a flirt but she's terrible at broaching beyond that ever since she came to the Deck permanently.]

[All the prisons and the tattoos in the world get forgotten when a girl says that she'd like to sleep with you. Pasha's eyebrows crawl up his forehead before he starts laughing.

Not at her, though who knows how she'll take it.]

You are very red, and it is hard to sit still when all I want to do is whisper those ugly Russian nothings into your ear and feel how warm your cheeks are. [He's grinning.]

[Well, she won't forget about prisons and tattoos because that's what makes Pasha fascinating. But it won't be the most pressing issue at hand. She's even forgotten the drawing. Right now Sandy hears laughter and for a moment she's not entirely sure if she wants to look up. Bright blue eyes peer between fingers and she lowers her hands carefully as he begins to talk.]

We could... compromise. You can stay cozy in your seat while I abandon this awful stool for some place more comfortable. [She bites her lower lip while she smiles, cheeks flushed but more akin to pink than red.] That way you can do what you want, and I won't have to scold you.

Hmm.

[He acts like this is a tough decision. It is not.] But perhaps I enjoy being scolded.

I'm sure I can find things to scold you about, if you really want me to.

[Of course it's not a tough decision.]

So the question is will you make room?

I think you can scold me even if I make room. Maybe for different things. [He crooks a finger.]

[She laughs at that, hopping off the stool to slowly pad over.] You're an opportunist and a braggart, Mr. Pasha.

[He reaches out, sliding fingers around the soft curve of her hips and pulling her down.] I have never claimed to be otherwise.

No, you haven't. [She settles comfortably on his lap, fingertips brushing his lips.] But now I'll have high expectations.

[His hands left her hips and thumbs brushed her shirt under the swell of her breasts. He kissed at the fingers against his mouth.] Then I will just have to make a mind not to disappoint you.

My past doesn't bother you?

[She faintly scolds herself for being overly dressed. She had time but... this would be half the fun. Her thumb simply teases against his kisses.]

I've friends here who have pretty shady pasts. And they'll probably have pretty shady futures.

[A hand absently tugs the sheet.]

It doesn't bother me at all.

[He grins and sits up a little, letting her shift down more comfortably into his lap. Paired with her tug, it peels the sheets down over a hipbone.

A past was past, unless it put blood on hands. Some people had a problem with that.] I like to think that my future is very bright, now. [Kill Julien, and he would be happy in the Deck. The Ace was a singular blight on an otherwise blue sky.

He leans in and presses lips to the pulse in her neck.] Death is preferable to dishonor.

[Nothing in the next few minutes was going to be easy. Sandy will adapt, she's good at that. Somehow the sheet and her clothes will come off. Somehow they'll get to the protection. Right now? Her hands trail over his sides feeling the muscle shifting under her touch.]

I hope that you do.

[A quick breath leaves her at the kiss and the pulse increases. She then cups Pasha's face, her face uncharacteristically serious. Concern for a friend.]

Hey. More of that talk for later if you'd like. I'm not going to dismiss it because it feels important to you and if you want to talk about it, you've got a friend. But now? [The concern expression turns sultry, a rare expression for her as well.] None of that.

[And then she kisses him.]

[But Pasha is laughing as she leans in to kiss him, laughs against her soft mouth even as he steals kisses she's already more than willing to give. Finally he pulls back enough to murmur:] The tattoo. The roses. They mean death before dishonor.

[Well not as willing just a moment ago, but only for a second. Her mouth is soft and hot and when he draws away Sandy looks confused. Pasha was apparently good at making her head spin.] You... ass.

[Sandy gently slaps his shoulder before she begins to laugh. As her fingers wind through his hair she murmurs.] See if I ever be the concerned friend again. [With that she kisses his jaw.]

[He really can't help be amused; she'd sounded so sincere about it. He laughs and doesn't do anything but take the given slap. His chin tilts up to make more room for her mouth on his jaw, enjoying the fingers against his scalp.] I was only answering a question, [he murmurs.]

[Sandy's learning quickly not to sound so sincere with him from now on. She's a chameleon when it comes to friends.] God, if you're answering a question I asked about five minutes ago, I really am doing bad. [Then there is a contrast of soft lips against and a softer scrape of teeth against his throat.]