vasilyevna.

         _{FINGERS  TAP  ON  HARD  WOOD,    a  happy,    distracted  sound  against  their  voices  and  the  other  background  noise.    lips  curve  into  a  smile  unlike  the  one  she  wears  in  public,    where  there  are  eyes  watching  her  every  move    —    this  one  is  relaxed.    how  rare  !    back  straightens  and  she  looks  at  him.}

          _{‘  i’m  sure  you’ve  heard  of  pierre  bezukhov,     my  …    husband.  ‘    the  word  is  said  with  such    disgust    that  one  would  think  she  needed  to  wash  her  mouth  after  saying  it.    still,    she  continues.    ‘  and  i’m  sure  you  know  how  the  public  sees  him.    kind,    if  not  a  little  clumsy  and  stupid.    the  public  hasn’t  been  married  to  him  for  five  years.  ‘    she  sighs,    the  kind  that  come  from    fallen  women    in  old  films.}

          _{‘  he’s  nothing  more  than  an  abusive  drunk.  ‘    brows  tug  together  and  she  pouts,    begging  him  to  take    pity    on  her.    it  was  true  that  her  intentions  were  not  entirely  pure,    but  what  she  told  him  was  not  deceptive    —    the  comfort  of  the  public  and  the    money    she  would  get  upon  her  husband’s  death  were  just    extra.   ‘  i  just  …    need  it  done.    and  quietly,    of  course.    i’m  sure  you  see  how  sensitive  this  situation  is.  ‘}

^{there exists sharpness to his vision that delineates even the smallest things    (  it is part of what he’s gone through after all,  why his eyes are never really the same.   )   he can see her in spite of the laxness that fills his bones,   that weighs down his expression ;     he catches the way her fingers thrum,   the way her chest deflates with a sigh of defeat,   of a hope long lost no matter how desperate her outstretched hand has become.       he catches the little details of hélène kuragina’s untarnished face as it screws into an expression of anger.      spike would be angry as well,   but this isn’t his battle,   his emotions have no play in this and he expects nothing but money in return for his duties.}  

^{he lets her explain on while the name  PIERRE BEZUKHOV  sticks to his mind to retrieve later.     “  i see.  “    the seed of his emotions shall not bloom   from this,  sprouting empathy  ;    and he replays that as a reminder in his thoughts and heart.  she is suffering,  undergoing a state of hopelessness from a man unable to control himself.   a man who is highly regarded by the public eyes.     if only they knew the other side of a charming smile.}    

^{“  does he have any set schedule ?     any time you both aren’t around company  ?      …   and i’m sure you know this won’t be cheap,   mrs.  bezukhova.   “      lay down the groundwork with the assurance she won’t back out.   his full focus is on her and is oddly light if one were to look away from his gaze.}