The Harassment

"One of the finest bars in Russia." Is what he said to me. I'd never been to a bar, and he managed to persuade me to go to his favorite. The very bar in the capital. I don't drink, yet he still told me I should go. There'll be food and other things, I don't have to drink. I just hope Russ doesn't force vodka down my throat again. We entered to a hyper scene. Mostly Russian men, their accents hitting every corner of this building. The lights were a bit dim so it was a bit difficult for me to make out any legs of others. The worst would be creating a scene of myself being a klutz. Russ took it in, as if he were proud we were here. He's been here a lot, so he gets it. "You'll fit in. I don't doubt it. No one comes to a bar to get drunk every day. Some come for entertainment." He laid a hand behind my back and began to lead me off to some bar stools. When we got to them, the scene became a bit brighter. "How the hell do you expect me to fit in with vodka loving people like you? Half these people look like they chug vodka bottles on a minutes basis." I muttered to him, eyeing the men around here speaking in a thick Russian. "I do that, and do I look like the person to?" I locked eyes with him. "You're the literal face of Russia. You don't need to look like anything." He gave me a soft shove then leaned his arm against the counter. "Don't stereo-type mister. Sure I may be a vodka addict but there's various things I don't like, like an average Russian would." I rained an eye, hinting something. "You have an AK-47 in your house, and you call yourself a bear. You wear the most Russian ushanka I've seen..." Russ raised an eye. He looked a bit offended; had I taken it a bit far? "I dislike bears. I'm fluffy and big like one though, so that's why I call myself that. They are my nations animal, so I kind of have to respect them. You may not like eagles but you respect the Sea Eagle. I have an AK-47 as a souvenir from my father during the wars, and my ushanka is from him...so I wear it to keep him close to me." I huffed. I did feel a bit bad now for saying that stuff. That's the issue with people and images. We stereo-type countries. People associate burgers with Meri because his nation has larger quantities of food. In reality, Meri is very fit, and coming from America, not many are as obese as foreigners view. Same goes for my country. People view me and Alacians as being too overly vulnerable and obsessed with rice and spices. I love rice, but...I don't gorge myself with it. "Sorry. I'm just pressured with the amount of action in this place. It's reverting onto me." He gave my shoulder a few pats before leaning up. "I get it. Your anxiety....just tell me if you're getting scared and I'll do whatever." I nearly responded if a presence hadn't interrupted me. I get Russ wanted to have fun with me by doing one of his favorite things, but I feel as if the other beings around us will create a hard problem. "Россия, ты вернулся(Russia, you're back)." Russ must've known this guy, or he may just be a familiar face. Russ turned his head with a smirk. The guy was your typical tall Russian height, and very built. He looked like a lumberjack of I'm being honest. He had a far thicker Russian accent than Russ himself. Russ's accent was very prominent, and that's one thing I absolutely love about him, but it isn't the type of deep this guys was. The built person leaned over the counter so he could start the conversation with Russ I knew was coming. "И вы привели гостя, Алисия, правильно(and you brought a guest, Alacia, right)?" He locked eyes with me, making me freeze. I nearly spoke english, but I had to sit there and realize the English speaking rate in Russia is actually very limited. Russ is one of the few in his huge country walls that actually speak fluently in English. Sure, he has some problems, but Russ is good enough. "Вы называете меня Аласия(You call me Alacia)." I wasn't sure what to say. "Хорошо, тогда с чего я могу начать(Ok, then what can I start you with)?" I shrugged. He asked me what I wanted to drink. "я не пью(I don't drink)." I mumbled. He seemed to be taken by this. "Вы не пьете в России(You don't drink in Russia)? Это традиция здесь(It's a tradition here)." Russ leaned down to my side so he could be in the guys view. "Ему не нужно пить(He doesn't need to drink)." The bartender raised an eye as he glared at Russ. He just gave a simple shrug before turning his attention onto Russ. "Я думаю ты обычно(I'm guessing your usual)." Russ leaned over the counter and held two of his fingers up. "Два(Two)." The tender gave the counter a single smack before walking off. Russ's attention turned onto me. His eyes stared round at mine, as if he were a bit concerned. I wouldn't know what he was concerned over. I was afraid of this place, but I set aside anxiety for him. "You don't need a drink you know. I can always get you something average. This is also kind of a restaurant too." For some reason my mood had suddenly switched. I appreciated his offers, but I couldn't convince myself otherwise that this place wasn't as bad as it was thought up to be. As long as Russ was here, and I was close to him, I could breathe. "If you think I should eat, then fine. Surprise me with something." He gave a charismatic smile, as if he was proud that I was actually being a bit involved. Honestly I felt like I wasn;t, but if that's what he thought I was doing who was I to ruin his self-esteem? The bartender slid Russ two vodka bottles, catching his attention. "Что-нибудь еще(Anything else)? Аласия решила(Has Alacia made up his mind)?" Russ unbottled the vodka and held it. "Принеси ему что-нибудь маленькое(Bring him something small). Удиви его(Surprise him)." The tender just nodded and walked off as swiftly as he had come. It was like this job was meant for him. I guess Russians got a way with alcohol serving; doesn't appear as if I would doubt it. I stared at the unopened bottle of vodka sitting there, the clear liquid sort of capturing my attention. A weird part of me wanted to try it, yet the understanding side told me it burned like hell and would leave an awful aftertaste. "Russ. Does this place sell margaritas?" Russ turned his head and stopped drinking. His eyes had rounded down to me, then later a look of excitement rang on his face. "Вы хотите Маргариту(You want a margarita)?" I scoffed and looked to the side. I didn't want to answer yes, but I felt contempt. I tilted my head when I heard him whistle and capture the tenders attention. "Получите манго Маргарита здесь(Get a mango margarita over here)." He called over, to where the tender just gave a hand gesture and returned to his brewing. I suppose I was eyeing Russ's vodka a bit too much, because he grabbed a small shot glass and tilted his already opened bottle to let that fowl mixture to pour it's molten self into that small innocent glass. Looked like an everyday glass of water if water was always served in pints. He slid it to me, the gave me that disgusted, twisted grin again. This was the look he gave me when he really wanted me to do something, this being drinking the vodka. I snorted at him. "Just cause I wanted a margarita doesn't mean I want your lava drink." Russ just pushed it closer. "I saw you spying it. That obviously means you are tempted to try it again." I crossed my arms and gave him a look that told him I meant nothing by it. "What else am I supposed to look at?" I spat. He chuckled and leaned in, locking eyes with mine. "I don't know. What is more attracting? Me or the drink?" I scoffed at him and looked away, yet deep inside, I was flustered. He had his ways of making me this way, yet I didn't want him to do that here. Most of the country knows I and Russ are a thing, and they are kind of forced to deal with it, but I fear if we do things publicly we will get retaliation from people. If Russ is able to be stabbed in the middle of the night by his own people, then more can be done, unfortunately. I reluctantly held onto the shot glass and glared darkly at him. "I'm only doing this because you gave it to me." He said nothing but kept that look of his. I turned my attention onto the damned liquid, and mustered up the courage to slide it down. After I had, I coughed as it flowed down like liquid fire. He gave my back a few pats as I regained myself. It's not that I hated alcohol, I hated drinking pure alcohol. Wine and margaritas are mixed with other things which distill the flavor and give it a twist. Besides that, I don't drink as much as a typical Russian would. I guess you'd call Russ a typical Russian. Like I had told him, he was the literal face of Russia. What caught my attention though at this bar was how none of the citizens appeared event a tad bit excited their own image was in the very building. Not to brag but we are kind of idols to our countries. We represent them in some way, yet here we are, allies, and no one gives a damn. I'm thinking of two reasons: Russ could be so common around here that people aren't as hype as they would be with him first entering, or, worse, they refuse to pay attention because of Russ being here with me, his boyfriend. Russ tells me all the time about the nasty faces he gets from his citizens. In Moscow alone. In the large cities, homophobia isn't as bad as it would be in smaller areas; lucky Russ. It pains me when he tells me about times when people would mutter as they walk passed, a hateful slur on purpose to get his attention. Russ does a nice job of ignoring all that, yet, I can't help but be ticked off. Grow up, is what I wish I could say to every homophobic Russian. I set the shot glass down and pushed it further away. My mouth still burned, but I knew it would go away. Russ grabbed the shot glass and flipped it upside down. He snickered at me then drank from the bottle. "Good stuff, huh?" He said teasingly. I shook my head instead of responding. By the time my margarita came, Russ had finished his first bottle and went on to his second. I watched him as I drank, and man, he chugs that fire fluid like it was water and he had been lost in a desert for weeks.