Black and Blue Romance: A Confusion in Three Acts

Black and Blue Romance: A Confusion in Three Acts

Or

With Sincere Apologies to Robert Palmer and Cherrelle, but I Really, Really Didn’t Mean to Turn You On

Act The First:

Saturday, May 30th, 1868
Josephine’s compartment on Alexi's Train, Wales
0430 hrs. local time

Josephine had retired for the night a scant half hour before and had plummeted into sleep when the tap on her door woke her again. Coming awake with a jerk, she sat upright in the shadows, adrenaline surging through her veins. Who? Not Evie. She wouldn't knock. Murderers and spies wouldn't knock either but still … She slid a hand beneath her pillow, curled her fingers around her knife, and readied herself to throw the covers back before calling out, "Enter."

The door to her compartment swung open and by the light of the quarter moon shining faintly through the windows, Josephine saw a dark hulk on the threshold. She tensed, a cat's whisker away from throwing her knife, her mind racing through the forces and trajectories required to sink it into the center of mass.

"So . . . Miss Josephine, you've travelled a bit, 'Ow's your Russian?" came Billy's unmistakable voice and Josephine relaxed enough to turn up her bedside lamp.

"Passable," she said, pleased she was able to present an unflappable calm even as the adrenaline was screaming along her nerves. She ignored the fact that she was dressed in nothing but a thin cotton chemise that showed more than it concealed when the lamplight struck it. Why call attention to it? Billy's already seen. She took in his mien, saw that he was being overly nonchalant, running into her somewhere that they won't likely be overheard, and his stature was oddly hat-in-hand. Interesting. Something's up. She raised a quizzical brow at him and merely asked, "Why?"

"I've got a matter of a certain . . . wager, but I need someone who knows Russian who ain't tied up in the current . . . " Billy said and waved vaguely toward Alexi's cabin.

"Ah." Given recent developments, she had an inkling where the conversation would go. Evie and Alexi were not at all quiet in their tryst and Josephine silently reviewed the exclamations that had made it through the compartment walls during the night. I need more data. "Please continue."

"So, the bet's this. D'ya know wha 'Poka Moya' or maybe 'Poka Moya Lubuv' means? I think that's right. Poppy says it was 'Polka Mia' and they was talking about dancing. Me, I think it's 'Pooka Mya' and they was talking about goblins."

'They', Billy said. Alexi and Evie? Watching carefully, Josephine caught the distinct impression of embarrassment coming off the orc and yet it didn't seem to stem from the lovers one compartment away. They said many things tonight, but that phrase wasn't one of them. So, not Alexi or Evie. Who else here speaks Russian? After that, it was a simple matter of elimination.

"Hardly," she said with a small smile, coming to her own conclusion as to whom Billy meant. "As I am not quite certain of your original source, I can only hazard a guess as to the actual phrase. Perhaps you'd meant 'tolʹko lyubovʹ moya'?" The Russian syllables rolled off her tongue. "It translates roughly as 'my only love'."

Billy's normally greyish skin noticeably darkened and he turned away. "I... I guess we both lose, then." He began walking away. "Thanks."

On that cryptic remark, Josephine was left to her privacy. The sound of her door softly closing had long faded to silence as she pondered just what that exchange had been all about. Possible scenarios chased each other through her head and then behind her eyelids, becoming imperceptibly entwined in her dreams. Josephine was unaware of the exact moment she'd actually fallen into true sleep. She only knew that she'd had when sunlight and birdsong woke her a little after dawn. Frowning slightly at the memory, Josephine duly noted it in her encounter reports and then dressed to meet the day.

Act The Second:

Saturday, May 30th, 1868
Outside the dining car, Alexi's Train
Breakfast time

Billy had managed to grab two plates piled high with sausages, eggs, toast and little salted fish before retreating from the room. Whatever else, I gotta say the Russki has good taste in food. He was still working on the plates when Pop finally slipped from the dining room to join him. “They still going on in there?” the orc asked.

As he lay down his plate, heavily laden with vast quantities of food, Pop nodded. Two pieces of toast fell on the table and he absently picked them up and started to nibble one. "Got a good fight going on, Bill me friend." He slid into the seat and began to shovel food in his mouth. "If they keep jabbering, then more food for me."

"I suppose so, but I mean what's all this over anyway? Evie's having tumble with the prince and Becks' feelin’ all cuckolded?"

Pop kept shoveling food. "Dunno," he muttered around a mouthful of toast and egg yolk. He shrugged, pushing a sizable portion of marmalade and toast in his mouth to follow. Swallowing, he looked at his friend, his brown eyes twinkling. "Women are a bit of a hard mystery to follow, you know?"

Billy ate another sausage, "Truer words, mate, truer words. . . " He considered licking the plate, but instead just tossed it aside and grabbed a sardine. "Still,whaddaya think of Princess Svetty? She's been 'anging about with us quite a bit lately."

The weaselman scowled. "Bout caved in me stomach. And she isn't responding at all to me charms, but. . ." He paused, stabbing a thick rasher with his knife and gesturing with it, "she's a pretty bird nonetheless." The piece of bacon disappeared in his mouth. "I'm beginning to think of her more as a mate ya know, rather than a girl. Now, Miss Rebecca, that's a lady." He smiled fondly and took a long draw of tea. "Yessir, a true lady."

Billy liked the fish oil off his fingers and paused to decide what to attack next, "You're a fickle one, old son." He said with a smile, "I remember you sniffin' a certain boot like it was glued to that nose o'yours. Anyway, I dunno about Rebbecca . Sure she's nice looking an got magic and all, but I think you or I'd break her in 'alf if we so much as hugged her proper."

Pop just smiled serenely. "See old man," he began, leaning back in his chair to wax philosophical, "women are like being in a candy shop. You know you love peppermints and you find yourself always drawn to 'em. But, sometimes, the delightful smell o' chocolate calls your name. And then you open your mind to other things like those delicate frenchie bon bon things and toffees and fruit pips and you realize that there's a wealth of candy to be had. And although you still luv peppermints, you realize you need to try all o' the candies." He spread a bit of marmalade on a sausage bite and munched it with a grin. "I know how to be gentle mate. I won't break her."

"Why Poppy, I din't know you were such a carnal connoisseur” He began rolling a cigarette. “Youknow me though, I’ll try most anything once but I could eat a good steak every night an never miss faux gras."

He patted his pockets until he found his match box and lit the cigarette and took a long drag. "But I ‘dunno. Been tryin’ to get a handle on Svetlana. Not sure why she’s been hanging about with us.”

The weaselman shrugged. "Our charm? You gotta admit, we're a helluva lot more fun than the others."

Billy lit took a long drag. “I suppose so. I jus’, I dunno, wanna know where we stand in all this. Sumthin she said yesterday’s got me wonderin’”

"Wot did she say that's got yer curiosity up?"

“Just before she bonked me, she went sorta nuts, yellin nonsense and when she hit me she weren't doin' no play actin'. Billy took a long drag. “I mean she’s nice enough, but a bit blonde for me, if ye get my meanin’"

The scowl darkened his cheerful face and Pop's lips pursed. "Come again?" he asked. "She were coming on to you?"

"Not as such no. Leastwise, I don't think so. I mean someone like that, why would she?"

Pop put down his fork, unable to hide his pout. "She wouldn't."

Billy stubbed out the cigarette, "Well then, no worries." He stood up slowly, "I need to take a slash. Tender my regrets to the gentlefolk in the dining car."

Sighing, Pop reclaimed his fork. "Ah, no Billy, have her. I'll have no love for such a fickle woman. I'll tender your regrets tho'." He cheerfully began to attack his plate again.

Act The Third:

Saturday, May 30th, 1868
In the debris field outside Alexi's Train
Breakfast time

“Oy, Svetlana, grab an end won’t you?” Billy lifted one end of a ragged section of wood and steel that had been a wall of one of the lounge car the evening before.

The blonde did as she was asked, lifting up the section. "You vant me to hold it while you hammer it back?"

“Yeah, if yer not to busy. I figure hoist it inna place and then see if it’ll hold together right enough to nail or bolt it together” He sized up the hole and the piece of wall. “You any good with a rivet gun or welding torch or is that more of his princeliness’ area of expertise?"

Svetlana favored him with a long, mildly annoyed look, her lips pursed.

He favored her with an ironic look that curdled milk in several cows in a neighboring field. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’. You ‘old an’ I’ll ‘ammer then.”

They lifted the section more or less into place and Billy tried to figure out what to do next. As he had a hammer, it seemed hammering was the best option. So, he began to nailing the wall section back in place to the best of his limited abilities. “So, last night, you bonked me pretty good. Were you actually tryin’ to kill me or was that just a friendly pillow fight back in Siberia?”

She shifted to let him have access to the other side as he nailed down the length of the section and smiled. "I vas not paying good attention," she admitted. "Sorry. Did not mean to hurt you."

He began working on the other end of the wall. “ ‘ell, a bonk on the head ain’t gonna do it. Barely of love tap that was.” He looked at the side of the car. It wasn’t pretty, but it’s coming together well enough. “It was just that you were carryin’ on and yellin stuff like ye’d gone balmy. Not exactly what I would have thought from someone with your trainin’ and all, unless there was something’ driven all of it.”

That earned him a quizzical look and then Svetlana ducked her head as her blue eyes widened slightly. "Ah," she stated to the wall, "it helps to visualize someone who. . .who you have strong emotions about. Inspires you to fight longer. Better." She glanced up at him with a slight smile. "You were difficult opponent. I needed inspiration."

Billy looked at the side of the car again and decided the work seemed a bit off. He tried to raise the section but only succeeded in shifting he entire car slightly. He let it back down with slight frown. "I guess that makes me difficult rather than inspirin' then."

Svetlana eyed the orc hard for a moment, her head tilting. "A difficult opponent is good, da? You worked me hard, Villiam. I vas impressed vith you."

“Impressed, well that’s impressive then,” he said with a smile.

Billy looked around at the various bits of wood and steel on the ground and was having a hard time making heads or tails of what went where. Trains weren’t exactly barrels or tables and chairs. Time for a slightly different gambit “So, can you settle a bet between me and Pop?”

"Of course," she answered with a nod.

"So, Pop and me overheard something; the other night and we’re tryin’ to figgur out what it means. The bet's this. D'ya know wha 'Poka Moya' or maybe 'Poka Moya Lubuv' means? I think that's right. Poppy says it was 'Polka Mia' and they was talking about dancing. Me, I think it's 'Pooka Mya' and they was talking about goblins. I asked Jo, but she gots it all wrong, said the word was 'tolʹko, but I’m pretty sure that ain’t right. Any ideas? "

She froze like a statue, but only for a moment, an eyebrow raising as she forced a smile. "It would be 'goodbye my love' in your language," she stated evenly. "Did you overhear Alexi saying it to his cat?" The last word was crisp, sharp enough to hurt.

Well that certainly prodded the bulldog. Billy grinned. “Somethin’ like that, yeah. I mean ‘oo else would be saying somthin' like that to someone ‘round here?”

Her mouth twisted and then smoothed as she regained control of her face. "So, vitch one of you vins the bet?"

"Well, that rather depends, now don't it?"

"I don't understand?" She leaned against the car, frowning.

"On what I said you said, o'course." He looked around at the remaining debris, but didn’t see anything that obviously fit anywhere. "Do you know what any of this is all 'bout?"

Svetlana shrugged and just looked at the orc. "I have no understanding." She looked to the pile of debris and fished out a piece to fit over one of the many remaining holes. "I sometimes do not understand you and Rat and your jokes."

Billy picked up what he suspected were a pair of iron re-enforcing bars and began bending them each into a roughly stylized 'c' curve. "Don't tell Pop' you think 'es a rat. It'd be downrigh' unfriendly. 'Es a weasel. ‘E gets right put out if you call 'em a rat. I don' go round sayin' you’re a lion jus' 'cause you got a bunch of yellow 'air."

"My poppa said I vas like lion, have temper like lion. I vould not be insulted. I vill call Pop rat if I vish. He smelled my boot, sniffed my person. Is rat." She regarded him regally, crossing her arms.

At the insult to his friend, Billy let out a low growl that would not have been out of place coming from a mastiff hound. He also felt some stirrings that he thought best be ignored. He threw one of the roughly scimitar shaped rods to Svetlana. “Perhaps I can be more than impressive this time.”

She caught it handily and grinned. "Probably not." Shifting her weight, she rolled her head and shoulders, popping her muscles free as her eyes locked to his, ice fire sparking within. "Vell, little baby son of Grendel," she stated softly, her voice dropping deeper. "Impress me."

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