New names, New places and new make-up.

Alfred had to job after Ivan, who was walking so fast! Really, now, it wasn’t like the mall was closing any time soon! Finally catching up to him, he shrugged. “I guess? It’s just a mall. You get used to it quickly.” Keeping an eye out for the store, Alfred glanced up at Ivan. “Me? I’ve lived here for a few months…”

Ivan nodded in agreement "I guess so, da?" He flashed the American a smile. "And I would have guessed that you lived here most of your life...maybe a New Yorker? Chicago?" He noticed that Alfred had to jog to catch up. "Ah, I'm sorry." He attempted to shorten his strides, although it didn't do much good. "I am so used to trying to get through very dense crowds very quickly, I did not think of you with your smaller legs!"

“Erm, I guess you could say I’m a New Yorker. I lived there for a bit. It’s where I started modeling.” Keeping pace with Ivan, who had slowed a little, Alfred continued to direct them toward the store. “My legs aren’t that small! I am a model, after all!” He pouted childishly, before finally spotting the store. “There it is! See, I told you I knew where it was!”

Ivan laughs full heartedly "Da, but compared to me your legs are similar to short, thin toothpicks!" He gives Alfred an affectionate pat on the back. "Ah, spasiba, comrade. Hopefully I will be able to navigate myself around soon~" He walks into the store with Alfred, humming a bit to himself "Now, where would almonds be found?"

“They’re not toothpicks! My legs are just fine! You’re just a giant!” Sticking out his tongue, Alfred crossed his arms and followed Ivan into the store, looking around at the pots and pans display by the entrance. They were all so shiny… “Almonds…? Um… with the other nuts? I don’t really know this store that well… I can’t cook.”

He laughs once again, shaking his head "Whatever makes you happy, Mr. Jones." He walks into the store, taking Alfred's arm and dragging him through the aisles shamelessly. "So, we are looking for the almonds, sour cream and flour." Ivan sees some cooking supplies that he likes, but he'll save them for another day.

“Good! Because I look just fine!” Alfred was trying to give the air that he liked the way he looked. But when Ivan had said his legs were like toothpicks, he had gotten really worried. Was he getting out of hand with the way he ate? But he wasn’t skinny enough yet! He had to be skinnier to look perfect!

Squeaking softly when Ivan grabbed his arm, he blushed brightly but allowed the other man to drag him along. Ivan was… like a little kid, excited to be in the store. Spotting the bags of flour, he tugged on the arm holding him.

“I found the flour!”

Ivan chuckled "You need to eat more, Mr. Jones. You are attractive, but too thin. A little more meat on you would not hurt."
He looked in the way that Alfred pointed, smiling brightly "Ah! A very good eye, Mr. Jones!" He continued to hold on to Alfred's arm as he grabbed the bag of flour with one hand as if it were a child's doll. "Now, just a few more items."

Being dragged around the store like a doll was the least of his issues right now. What was with this mall and people from work making comments about his body? Everyone was going to find out this way! That would be really bad… “I eat just fine! I eat burgers all the time!” Well, he had until he had started this… eating disorder…

Ivan smiled brightly "Really? Well, you must have an amazing immune system, Mr. Jones." Ivan shifted the bag of flour, continuing to walk. "You may want to try the Russian hamburgers. They are healthier than these American ones." He chuckled "If you would like, I could make you some sometime."

“Course I do. I’m awesome, that’s why!” Looking around for the other ingredients Ivan had wanted, Alfred tried to stay calm. So far, it looked like Ivan was buying his story… “Russian hamburgers? Well, a hamburger is a hamburger! I’d love to try one!” And if they were healthier, then he could eat them!

The Russian man couldn't help but chuckle. Alfred was just too cute, even if he was a bad liar. But he would be polite and not point out that he could read the man like an open book.. "Well, they are essentially the same as your gamburgers. Except, you fry the bread and the meat together and then pour gravy on top of the patties. They are not as fatty, but they are just as good. They are also more filling, so you are not eating too much in one sitting." He smiled widely when seeing the almonds, grabbing a bag of them.

((Side note: the Russians call them Gamburger. Plural; gamburgerie. So, no, that is not a typo xD))

“They sound pretty good! I’d like to try them soon!” Despite his disorder, he still loved food, which was why he tended to binge and then throw up rather than starve himself… “What else did you need to get?” He looked around, wondering if there was anything here Matthew might like to cook with. They didn’t need anymore pancake ingredients, so that was out… Hmmm… Spotting a bottle of real maple syrup, he pulled Ivan over to it and grabbed it. Matthew would love this!

"Anytime, comrade. You just tell me when, da? And I need sour cream." He let Alfred drag him towards the maple syrup "What do you need maple syrup for, Comrade Jones?" It was a little bit out of context, and he figured that Alfred wasn't grabbing it for the Russian.

He’d have to remember to look at his schedule to see when he was free to eat burgers with Ivan. “Huh? The syrup if for my brother! He loves the authentic stuff but he never buys it, because he’s always saving his money, so I thought I’d surprise him.” Alfred grinned brightly before dragging Ivan over to the refrigerated section to look for the sour cream.

Ivan got an almost nostalgic smile. "That is very kind of you to do for your braht, comrade." He looked through the shelves of the refrigerated cupboards. Did it all have to be non-fat? This Russian wanted his fatty cookies, Bozhe moĭ! "American markets are so peculiar, Mr. Jones."

Alfred blushed a little bit when he saw Ivan’s nice little smile and nodded. “He does a lot to help me out, so I wanna be able to do something for him, even if it isn’t much!” He looked over the sour creams, wondering why Ivan hadn’t picked one yet. “Huh? They are? They’re a lot like they are back home…”

Ivan nodded in return. "It is very heart warming to see how much you love him." He knitted his eyebrows at the options of sour cream. "You know, I have lived here many years now, in Northern America, and I still miss the markets back home. All of the real food here never has fat, it is processed and not fresh, and then the junk-food is filled with fat and is very unhealthy. Then the government of health wonders why no one is healthy. Nobody gets enough nutrients." The Russian eventually grabbed a tub of sour cream with a bit of a sigh "And the sour cream isn't even sour." He shook his head "But, it is what it is, da? At least we are not starving."

“Well, he’s my brother! Of course I love him!” Alfred listened to Ivan’s rant about food and laughed softly, doubting that a man of his stature had ever been truly worried about starving. “Yeah, but all the organic food is so expensive because it takes more work to make sure it’s grown right and nobody likes paying extra money. It’s lame, though. Mattie likes to cook but all the healthy stuff is overpriced!” He pouted and hugged the syrup bottle closer, before looking at the tub of sour cream. “It’s kinda sour? It’s tasty, though!”

He chuckled at the American's enthusiasm. "You know, I've been thinking of growing a garden. It costs less money and brings back many childhood memories for me." He looked over the tub of sour cream again. 2/3rds fat would have to do. "And the sour cream in Russia is real sour cream. It tastes much better." He tugged Alfred towards the counter to pay for his ingredients.

“Well, I’ve never had Russian sour cream, so I wouldn’t know! And where are you going to grow a garden? Do you have a yard or something?” He shared a tiny apartment with his twin, so a garden was out of the question. After all, where would they put it? Allowing Ivan to pull him over to the counter, he clutched the bottle of syrup with trying to get his wallet out of his pocket. Matthew would be so happy when he saw the sweet treat!

"Well, you will have to try it if you are ever sent to Moscow during fashion week, da?" Ivan paid for his items, balancing the bag on flour on his hip as if carrying a child. "Da, I have a large yard. I have quite a big house. I have saved up since I was young for such a house." Alfred didn't need to know that most of his savings from his childhood were stolen, so the house was almost a stolen object in itself. The Russian loved his house dearly, although it could be quite lonesome.

“W-What? Fashion week? I’m h-hardly good enough to be sent there!” Alfred shook his head and let go of Ivan’s arm to go to the other cashier and pay for the syrup, but he continued listening to the other man speak. “Well, if you have a yard, then you should grow a garden! That way, you can have fresh produce, instead of having to go to the store to get some!” Grinning, he hugged the bag with the syrup and went back over to Ivan once he had paid for it.

A low rumble escaped the Russian in the form of a laugh. "Even if you are not modelling, Alfred, you may go for a photoshoot. It's good experience for a model such as yourself. You also have a Slavic look, so, the photographers would appreciate that." He began to walk as Alfred caught up and attempted to keep his pace slower for the shorter man.
"I should, shouldn't I? Though I am not sure if I could eat it all by myself. I would most likely grow too much produce." He laughed again, a bright smile plastered on his face.

Alfred blushed and looked up at the other man, wondering if Ivan really meant what he was saying. “Do you really think the people there will like me…? I’m really not that good at modeling.” Or that good looking, he thought, though he didn’t want to voice that out loud.
“Well, if you have extra produce, you can always give it to people. Or sell it at a farmer’s market. There must be a few of them here in LA.”