03-31-2020, 04:58 PM
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He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.
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He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.
— Бра́тья Карама́зовы
Almost immediately, a bashful expression overtook Ivan's face. He was normally stand-offish and turbulent toward male foreigners; Tanglewood itself was pretty much a sausage fest. He did remember Sweeney coming here but that was a bit different. Ivan had little female influence in his life. Of course, he had his mother, but he also grew up with four brothers and one sister that he hardly got to see because she was sick. For all his mysterious genius, yes, Mercede was right: Ivan did not know how to act around a lady.
Flushing furiously, all he could say was "My name is not Tom. It's Ivan. Ivan!", slowly and deliberately drawing out the Slavic accented name. "Ivan Roux."
The young black cat continued to cling to his branch, lashing his tail out for balance. "It's not yours either!" He shot back. Ivan was positive that could physically feel his brain cells leaving his body as he continued to childishly deal with this fox.
Flushing furiously, all he could say was "My name is not Tom. It's Ivan. Ivan!", slowly and deliberately drawing out the Slavic accented name. "Ivan Roux."
The young black cat continued to cling to his branch, lashing his tail out for balance. "It's not yours either!" He shot back. Ivan was positive that could physically feel his brain cells leaving his body as he continued to childishly deal with this fox.