Seven Times is Six Times Too Many [ Stepka + Gomel / public ]

“Stepka?”

The boy simply scowled at his name being called-- and by the Belarusian. Bleh, didn’t she know he didn’t want to read today? He had better things to do than read the same books over and over again. He wouldn’t have cared quite as much if she got him new books every once in a while—Ones that weren’t as boring and more action filled. If the books she chose were exciting maybe he’d enjoy them. Like that one book—Moby Dick or something like that. He liked that one.

Rather than face up to reading again he’d chosen to hide out of the way amongst some crates, laying down on one with his head drooping off of it upside down and watching whenever someone went past. But this seemed to be even more boring than reading so far. He let out a frustrated sigh, scowling up at the sky as if it were its fault nothing interesting was happening.

Motya simply scowled at the boy avoiding her so far. Not that she really understood how he could disappear so easily given how tall he was. She made a face, holding the book she’d planned to give him to read under her arm for now. She’d taken note of how the books she’d been giving him had been boring him and had managed to get a new one for him. . . Well at least the person she’d bought it from had said it was. She hadn’t checked personally. But either way, it was a new one, so hopefully it’d keep him happy for a little while.

She’d been ready to give up and let him off for the day, if she hadn’t spotted a head of ginger hair sticking out from behind a barrel. She watched him for a moment to make sure it was him, sure when he looked over at her and scowled, crossing his arms over his chest as she approached.

“I don’t want to read that stupid book again. It’s a bullshit story and I’ve read it seven times now. Ive read them all six or seven times,” he hissed, glaring up at the woman towering above her. He blinked at she revealed the new book to him, staring at it and having little difficulty reading the title upside down. “The String of Pearls? That sounds like some sissy shit,” he muttered, taking it from her and looking at it more carefully, examining the cover, not that it revealed anything about it-- Just a tatty red cover. “What’s it about?”

The blonde just shrugged a little, “He said a teenage boy would probably like it. Something about an English barber. Are you going to read it or are we going to have to make another deal?”

He stared at the cover intently as if it’d answer him for a moment then glancing up at her, “Alright, I’ll read it. But it better be good.” He muttered, opening it and starting to read. The blonde, happy with her work nodded to herself, leaving him there to read and heading back over nearer to where they slept. She sighed, opening the chest she kept their clothes in to wash them.

[[ FEEL FREE TO BOTHER EITHER OF THEM—/shot ]]