1965-01-05 - Of Kitty Cat Pots
Summary: The things that bring KGB agents together.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
yuliya zhenya 

A crowd won't disperse in front of a derelict warehouse. Two men stand by the side, hands in the pockets of their blue onesie uniform. A bit beyond them is an irritated businessman in a heavy, cheap boiled wool coat. His florid cheeks and rheumy eyes blaze, and he says, "You can't have a fire sale. I don't care what Donald says, I have half an interest in the company too!"

Hutchinson Northeast Ltd. matches the name on the building and the stock for sale covers household goods and household supplies. Fixtures like lamps and carpets are being carried off. Side tables, everyone wants those. Buy, sell, trade, enjoy.

A tall blonde wears a long coat and gloves, standing out a bit. She peeks over the rolled up rugs, colourful throws on the ground.

Tick Tock aka Agent Kozlova often frequents the docks, usually to pick up her own inbound shipments for a side operation. She's actually found a small market and has been having fun pretending to be part of the capitalist machine, she even dresses the part, and it looks like she might have stepped out of a boardroom or have come from a business lunch with clients at the insurance company she's embedded with. However it seems that the prospect of a fire sale has attracted her, and no doubt she's looking for other things she can hock alongside her usual shoddy radios. After all, Capitalism ho!

She makes her way through the collection of household goods, casually whistling an old tune that might come from Russia or the Ukraine, but generic enough that it could really be from anywhere. The suited woman makes her way through the crowds, paying no attention to the complaints of the businessman as she goes to look for stock.

Call her Unity. It's the cover of the day. She pinches the edges of a rug and peers over the rainbow-coloured rags. Shifting the top layer aside shows her the next option. Other people can argue over a chandelier with real leaded crystal for two hundred bucks or brass knobs for two a piece. They range from small business owners to buyers, middlemen of the secondhand market, and a few odds and ends. Looky-loos are everywhere. Half the city smells a bargain from a mile away. Unity's hair is back in a ponytail and she smells of blackberries. Her tongue pokes out of the corner of her mouth. "How much for the shag?" The broad valleys of a vowel float off her tongue, giving her some northeastern accent. Couple of bucks, and the answer of "Ten" gets her flashing five fingers to a shake of a head.

Kozlova stands out as a well-dressed woman, one of the few around here. That alone deserves a look over her red-framed glasses.

Yuliya could no doubt spend good money at the warehouse, but she doesn't as she continues to browse, no doubt looking for something that stands out and catches her attention. Sure, she came for lamps but she found decorative tea pots and cups instead. Well, there's an excited squeal from her and it might be because she's not expecting another agent to be nearby to hear her making strange noises. While she might be an explosives expert, it doesn't stop her from picking out a set with cute kittens painted on the sides. After all, no one would ever know she's buying them right?

She makes her way towards the front, carefully carrying the box in both arms with look of glee on her face. She makes her way past the haggling woman and the merchant as she moves to pay one of the vendors.

A squeal for cups or pots? That has to startle several bystanders trying to make quick work of a business deal. Transactions in cash are the only way to go. Nearby labourers out for a quick buck offer to help cart away the bigger pieces, and Unity sizes them up out of the corner of her eye. But mostly she is curious about that excitable noise. Is that a hint, a reason to run or way too good a deal to miss out on? Oh good grief, perky ears and whiskers on a mug. The slant of her gaze is mildly curious without staring.

"Well at least someone got what she was lookin' for," she drawls slightly. "Why can't I find anything more interesting than knotted rags?"

Yuliya can be odd as far as KGB agents go, complete with being bubbly and overly cheerful. However she does haggle, and it seems like she's had experience in doing it, after all, she does do it as a side job. Her accent sounds like it's from Yugoslavia and the last name she offers for the invoice and the books is Moscovich. After all, she'll try to claim the kitten themed tea set back on tax somehow, even if it is for her own personal enjoyment. With her purchase in hand, she starts to slowly wander towards the door, before she starts to whistle that same tune again while holding her precious tea set close to her chest.

Happiness is a good thing, simply unexpected in a place where so many people wear hatchet faces and try to be severe schoolteachers when they wear suits. No judgment on teachers or businesswomen. The blonde pulls on her braid and sighs, only a bit. Giving up on the rugs, she moves on to give those nice collection of teacups a gander, though the silver plate gets a look over. Boring, but what's this? She holds up a lemon-shaped cup with a lemon dimpled exterior and 'seeds' inside. Hmm. "I don't think so." Back in it goes, and what's next, an egg? Someone has culinary tastes. Her head turns a little at Moscovich; and yes, that gets her attention too. "Excuse me? Could you show me where you find the…" A gesture at Yuliya's box. "Not to be rude. I just haven't found anything near as sweet."

Yuliya smiles brightly at the question from the blonde woman, and she tilts her head to the side. "Oh! I can help you find nice cup snd tea pots," she chimes cheerfully as she turns on the ball of her foot. "Did you want one with kittens as well? I think there was one with puppies." She purses her lips and hmms softly. "It was hard to decide between the two." She clicks her tongue a couple of times and nods. "A lot of places hide their good things at the back," she chimes. "Well, not so much hide, but so that you have to walk past other things to get to them. More chance of making a purchase."

The room shakes and begins to crumble.

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