I’m No Good at Being Noble

Belle Vista 
#1
Nov 3, approx 5:45pm, right before Late-o-Ween~
outfit plus hat
@Yana Novik


The weather was delightful, really. The right kind of chilly that he'd all but been begging for for months. If he was a betting man, he'd dare to gamble on some real snow this week, but the only winning he needed was the snow itself. It made it so he wasn't dying in tonight's chosen costume. Well, it was really more an outfit--a conscious decision made after looking at pages of suggestions on the internet and hating 99% of everything he saw. Maybe some of it he would have worn if someone he wanted to please had handed it to him and demanded he do so, but never, ever on his own free will and choice.

So this. This has been... an unexpected late contender in his lineup of option. He might not have understood Rick Blaine's overarching motivations very well, but the man was admirable, he was pretty sure Yana liked him, and... he had the sort of fashion sense that Levka was not completely repelled by. So he tugged the lapel of the trench coat to let in a little more cool air as he stood on Yana's doorstep. Felt a little too conscious of the hat, but ignored it, and put his hand on the threshold as he knocked.

Five whole minutes early. A new trend in fretfulness.
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#2


 In all fairness, she wasn't entirely sure if it could be called a costume if all of the pieces had been relics stashed away in the back of her closet. The dress had been from a holiday party two years prior, back in the Cordova days when things had been simpler albeit perhaps less enjoyable. The lipstick had been stashed towards the back of her vanity for who knew how long, something she rarely fussed with. Cheekbones brought to you by Viktoria Novik, may she rest in peace. Hair down and stark, smooth and almost sharp with how straight she had managed to make it. Tying it all together in something that was loosely Morticia Addams took little work at all and saved her a great deal on running about like a mad woman that same morning.

 "You're early!" She called through the door as she held the skirt of her dress, rushed down the last half of the stairs to get the door. "You're -" It was clearly not Levka, at least not in the everyday sense. For a brief and fleeting second, her mind went to old school archetypes of detectives, danced over the vague similarities with Inspector Gadget before she landed at once where she was almost certain she was supposed to be.

 "Сентыментальны." It was easy to tease him for it, but really she was just pleased that he had thought to put in the effort at all. Leaning in and pressing the very corner of her lips to his cheek to avoid staining him with lipstick. "You look good."
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#3
"Мне? Никогда," was his immediate response to the accusation of his being sentimental--which translated with ease--however much they both knew that it was entirely true. He'd proven that openly and openly again. It might have even been considered one of his better traits, though he wouldn't ever admit to it outside of present or similar company.

Leaned a little into the kiss, not particularly mindful of the red, then laughed. "I feel less silly than I was fearing. This was a task," he admitted, then turned to take her lightly by the waist and give her a quick look over. There was a tug to familiarity and though he wouldn't place it right away, he didn't feel completely at a loss.

"What is this? What are you? I feel like I know this."

Asking outright was better than guessing even when he was on the edge of placing it.
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#4
 "While I'm sure you would have made quite the handsome one, I'm glad you saw fit to save the kitten costume just for me." She didn't bother to invite him in, grabbed her bag and made sure she had her phone and her keys before she sidestepped out of the house and checked the handle of the door to make sure it was locked. Reaching up finally and adjusting his hat the slightest bit before she dropped her hands back to her sides, made a face when he didn't get the reference or even make a guess.

 All the same, she didn't tease him - chalked it up to cultural differences as she snapped her fingers twice before lifting the skirt of her dress to be mindful on the steps down to the driveway. "Addams Family, Levka - it was a television show and then a few movies." She glanced over her shoulder, shook hair from her face. "Very Halloween."
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#5
Kitten. Next year. They'd already been over this, but it really was a thought they'd revisit. He'd see to it, no matter how ridiculous it was.

So he watched her as she locked up, pretty pleased with her choice of dress, regardless of it being intended as a costume or not. It was... flattering. Hooking his thumb into the belt of the coat, he followed after her and unlocked his car--even though he'd never actually locked it, so the lights just flashed--considering the answer she gave him.

"Is that the... the one with the hand, da? I have seen some of that... sometime." He didn't recall exactly when, or why it stuck on the fringes of his conscious recollection, but... See, see, he'd known he'd not been completely in the dark on this one. He felt accomplished, even if he hadn't taken the bold guess.
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#6
 "Da, the hand - among other things." She grinned over at him from the other side of the car, bowed her head before she settled into the passenger seat. "An interesting couple, hm?" The costumes, of course - but she supposed that observation extended beyond just that if you were inclined to be so technical about it. Settled and content on the decision to go, rogue where costumes were concerned, she clicked her seat belt into place with a degree of finality and leaned back comfortably.

 She kept her eyes forward, watched her garage even as she reached over to give his arm a fleeting squeeze. "This will be fine." An almost impossible degree of confidence behind it, comfortable as it were.
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#7
An interesting couple, indeed. He felt warm for the offhand sort of comment, reassured going into what could be the sort of evening he regretted. Hopefully not, though. Levka was feeling oddly confident now that he'd collected her, as he backed out of her driveway with her hand on his arm for a heartbeat. Checked his mirrors before he looked at her, squinted a little in a mischievous sort of smile.

No trouble from him tonight--anyone who started anything would have to be someone else. He'd promised himself as much, on her behalf.

"Let us go show them who is Queen, hm?"
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#8
 There was a fleeting urge to dismiss him, to make it clear that she did not need the slight perk to her confidence. But the fact of the matter was that it was nice to have someone at her back, always pleasant to have a cheering section no matter how comfortable you sat. So instead she gave his leg a squeeze, kept her head held a bit higher and chose to not acknowledge it outright.

"Lets."
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