Next update is Sunday, along with a familiar face! (Three guesses as to who it is.) Chapter four should be on time now that I'm moved back to school~
It rained a lot the first week. The day after they arrived, it poured for hours on end. Olena had taken one look at Rose's lack of rain boots — there'd been uproarious laughter when Rose admitted to preparing for Arctic tundra and nothing else — and had sent her, Sydney, and Karolina into town to get a pair during what little sunshine the weather offered that afternoon. Serena had lasted all of a day before deciding Sydney wasn't a flight risk, electing to stay in a tiny bed and breakfast a few streets away and checking in twice a day to make sure Sydney was still in Baia. Sydney had simply rolled her eyes and muttered something unfavorable about her father still causing her headaches under her breath.
Most days, it rained in the late mornings, keeping Rose and Sydney indoors with the family through lunch; in the afternoons, the pair would trek out into town on foot where Sydney would point out the essentials — stores, restaurants, the lone gas station, the pharmacy where Sonya worked — so Rose could map it out in her head and give her a little bit of independence. The last thing she wanted was to make the Belikova women adjust their lives for her because she couldn't remember how to get to the grocery store.
Walking seemed to be the primary mode of transportation for the family. There was one car for the lot of them and Sonya was the primary driver — her job took her the farthest from the house, all the across town. Everyone else, including the children, walked, though Olena had made it very clear that once the weather got cold, there'd be a lot more carpooling to school and work.
Not once did Rose see any hint of any secret underground dhampir world, nor were there the stereotypes she'd grown up hearing about, desperate dhampir women in flashy outfits and gaudy makeup looking to get a fix on every street corner. It'd only been a week, though, and she came to the conclusions she wasn't looking hard enough or in the wrong places. She began to gain an appreciation for why Lissa sent her for a year instead of only a couple of months — answers weren't going to come immediately, and any time dinner conversation skirted around something potentially taboo, someone was quick to change the subject.
It took three days for Rose to finally meet the much spoken of but ever aloof Yeva Belikova, though Rose was sure that she must've just looked straight over the woman's head when Rose saw how short she was. Yeva was barely five feet and thin enough to worry Rose on multiple levels. Upon greeting, Yeva had made sure Rose knew she was seventy-two ("ne zabudte yego rebyonok" — "don't forget it, child") and that she'd spent the first ten years after graduation serving as a guardian before settling down to have children.
Her eyes seemed to bore into Rose's soul and then straight through. She was the first person in the family Rose had a hard time making eye contact with, but she did her best because Yeva seemed to respond better to those who did. Sydney joked it was like living with Baba Yaga, the little old witch in Russian folk tales who lived in a hut stilted on chicken legs, traveling through the woods to eat children who misbehaved.
Despite their first conversation, Yeva had a habit of pretending she didn't know English whenever Rose was in the room, which frustrated Rose to no end given. Rose was picking up more of the language every day, faster than she'd initially thought she would, and knew very well what Yeva was saying about the boltlivaya amerikanka i yeye alkhimik — the overly talkative American and her Alchemist. Nobody else seemed to give Yeva's insults much weight and the only thing holding Rose back was her lack of confidence in speaking Russian aloud to anyone not Sydney.
She'd been given Dimitri's room by an apologetic Olena after an explanation of who slept where — Yeva was with her, Olena, in the ground floor bedroom; Karolina, Alex, and Sonya to one room; Zoya, and Katya to another; Paul and Alexei to a third; Viktoria slept on an air mattress in her sisters' room, though sometimes she'd sleep on the boys' floor if Alexei was having a bad night; and Dimitri's stayed untouched for whenever he came home.
Rose made the mistake of asking why they left his room alone during dinner one night. From what Rose could gather, things had been just fine back when everyone was able to have their own bedroom, but then Karolina had gotten pregnant and it'd been cramped ever since. Still, it was a touchy subject, and the ensuing fight ended with Sonya storming out and Zoya in tears, worried she'd have to give up her room and sleep outside. Olena huffily declared them all spoiled with a stern reminder that there'd been a time, not too long ago, when she had lived in a one-room apartment with her three siblings, mother, an aunt, and a handful of cousins out in Novosibirsk so they all better be glad they had a house, let alone one as big as the house they were currently living in. Yeva simply sat there, glaring at everyone into apologizing.
Dimitri's room hadn't been entirely left to mausoleum status — someone, probably his mother, had cleared out the closet and dresser drawers for Rose to put her own things away and Sydney, too, if she wanted for the short time she was there. Sydney, for her part, had declined, and was somehow producing wrinkle-free clothing from the suitcase she was living out of despite Rose never seeing the other girl take an iron to her clothes.
It amused Rose greatly to lie in bed at night and try to picture the legend she'd heard so much about as a man who came home to his family on work breaks. The walls were covered in dark blue wallpaper but otherwise bare, save for the window opposite the door and a John Wayne poster on the wall next to Rose's side of the bed. A hockey puck with a silver signature scrawled across the top was propped up against one of the many framed photos of his family and what Rose assumed were friends scattered across the top of the dresser. Of the latter, all were guardians with two notable exceptions — in a couple photos Rose recognized Christian's aunt, Tasha, making her wonder what the connection was; in another, Dimitri and a blond, male Moroi had their arms slung around each other's shoulders, though it was kind of awkward with Dimitri still significantly taller than the other. It was that photo Sonya caught Rose staring at one morning after breakfast.
"That was his charge, Ivan," Sonya said, causing Rose to jump a foot in the air. Sonya had been dead silent coming up the stairs, or maybe Rose had simply been too deep in thought. She wasn't sure.
Rose put a hand against her chest as her heart calmed from the startle, and she took a deep breath, looking back at the photo. She needed to get a grip. It wasn't like it was a crime to look at photos that were sitting out for anyone to see. "I thought it might've been."
Sonya leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest. "We were wondering if you guys heard about that in America."
Rose nodded. "I was in my senior year when it happened. We were all shocked. It—" And she had no idea why she was admitting this to the man's sister but it felt right for the conversation, "—It was what pushed me to do better that year, try to end on a high note. If even the best of the best could lose a charge, then I had to do all I could to get the most out of my training, if only for Lissa's sake."
"That's an interesting interpretation," Sonya said, studying Rose carefully, who suddenly felt like she'd insulted Dimitri and his entire family. She flushed involuntarily. With a laugh, Sonya added, "Stop, Rose, you're fine. You're allowed to say what you think. We value honesty over tact around here."
Rose could only nod, her attention drawn back to the photo, her fingers tracing the thin wooden frame. Dimitri looked young but eager, like someone who had no idea what kind of journey they were about to embark on. Had they gone to school together, he looked like the kind of guy Rose would've secretly crushed on from afar in math class.
"Ivan was his closest friend," Sonya explained, entering the room and coming closer to Rose. "Well, as close as Dimka lets anyone get. He's always been the quiet, aloof type. Anyway, when they graduated, Ivan requested him as his guardian, despite all the much more attractive offers Dimka was getting. Queen Tatiana, God rest her soul, even offered him a position within her personal guardians, but he turned her down."
"He what?" Rose squeaked. Guarding the Queen was arguably the highest a guardian could go, save ranking as a captain at Court or an academy.
Sonya's smile was bemused. "He wanted to guard Ivan. They'd promised each other, and my brother has never not honored a promise he's made." The smile faded, a look of lingering memories suddenly weighing her down. "He took Ivan's death pretty badly. He only just got back to work when he started at St. Basil's this school year. It took him a little while to find his way again."
There was more to the story and Rose itched to hear it — the amount to which she could relate and sympathize was unlike anything she'd experienced before. Part of her just wanted to listen to stories about Dimitri all day, this enigmatic, gorgeous man who was loved so deeply by his family. She soaked up whatever information she could whenever someone spoke about him, an unconscious decision she wasn't altogether aware of yet.
"That was the day they graduated from the academy," Sonya explained, dragging Rose back to reality.
"He looks happy," Rose said, unable to find the words for anything else. Happy seemed so underwhelming a term.
"He was," Sonya said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. "Now . . . not so much. But back then, yes, he was, very much so." She seemed to be lost in a memory and Rose let her come back on her own time a few moments later. "Anyway, Mamochka wanted me to let you know that you should stick around for uzhin tonight."
"Like I'm going anywhere else for dinner," Rose joked but the force behind her words was lost on a photo of two best friends caught in a moment of pure, untouched excitement.
(Dinner that night had been the adults rather cautiously asking Rose if she'd be up for teaching the young ones some basic English since she was available with the added bonus of being American and thus far more likely to get their attention than the three parents trying to do it themselves. Rose agreed, just as carefully, not sure how she was going to do it but willing to do as much as she could to help ease communication between herself and a handful of small children. Satisfied that their children would be getting the foundations of English from an American, Karolina and Sonya had then let the conversation shift to planning the logistics of Sydney getting back to Omsk to start her trip home.)
"You'll be alright," Sydney said on her final night in Baia, lying next to Rose in bed. It was raining outside again, though Rose could've sworn up and down that there was snow mixed in.
"What do you mean?" Rose asked, tearing her gaze from the window.
"You'll get homesick after I leave, I'm sure, but you'll be fine out here." Sydney rolled onto her side to look at Rose. "You seem pretty at home with them already."
Rose was about to argue she wasn't when it occurred to her that she actually was comfortable with the Belikovs in a way she hadn't expected to feel so soon. Sydney took her silence as confirmation.
"You know I'm just a Skype call away if you need anything or even just to talk, right? Me, Adrian, Lissa — we're here for you."
"Yeah, I know," Rose whispered, eyes briefly sliding shut when Sydney reached over to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face.
"Speaking of, how is Lissa?" Sydney asked softly.
For the moment, the bond was quieter than the usual medication-induced dullness, and Rose was grateful for that. It meant she'd get some quality sleep tonight.
"Right now, she's sleeping." Silence. "It's weird, being so far away from her. Like, logically, I know I'm on the other side of the world from her, but because I can sit through every Council meeting she does . . . it's like I'm not totally gone. Like how she and Christian had Adrian and Jill over for dinner last night, and it was like I was there when I peeked inside, even though I know I wasn't. If that makes any sense."
"There's no full separation," Sydney summarized.
"Exactly."
"Jill's told Adrian something similar a couple of times. Obviously, the distance has never been this large, but I'm sure the same theory applies."
"I'm going to miss your brainy talk."
Sydney snorted and turned onto her back, signaling the end of the conversation. "Do me one favor, Rose."
"Anything."
"This is going to sound weird, but I refuse to believe it without hard proof. . . . I've seen his file, so if you could touch Dimitri's hair to make sure it's real . . ."
"Anything for you, Syd," Rose said completely seriously and a beat later both women dissolved into laughter.
"You don't have to," Sydney said, catching her breath. "I just think it looks like it'd be nice to run your fingers through. Adrian's considering growing his hair out a little, but I'm not sure he'll look good with it long."
Rose wrinkled her nose. "Do you think he'd end up looking like a stoner? I feel like he would."
They didn't get to sleep for another two hours.
Three days after Sydney left, Olena finally kicked Rose out of the house.
"Alex, take Rose on your errands today," she said after breakfast finished. Karolina had already disappeared to get ready for work, and Sonya was wrangling three children into coats and boots to start the daily walk to school — first year for Zoya, daycare for the other two. Alex was washing the dishes that Rose had been clearing off the table.
"Da?" He looked to Rose, who set the last stack of dishes on the counter and shrugged. Yeah?
"Sure," she said as she grabbed a dishtowel and moved to drying duty.
Olena was pleased. "Good. You need some air." And then she stood from the table and left to go track down Yeva to coordinate a potluck at a friend's house later in the week.
"She thinks fresh air cures everything, including the homesickness," Alex explained.
Rose nodded. "Makes sense." She took a bowl from him and started toweling it dry. "Where are you going?"
"Butcher, grocer, bank, Kalya at work, a friend's house, not in that order. The meat will spoil if we take it to Mark's house," he joked.
Laughing because it seemed appropriate, Rose asked, "Who's Mark?"
"Family friend. You'll like him. His wife, too, I would imagine."
Mark turned out to be a guardian who lived on the edge of town with his Moroi wife, Oksana, though Alex didn't explicitly say as much on the walk over. The couple's house was an hour's walk; according to Alex, it sat near one of the lakes on the edge of town and Mark had fenced off a portion of the backyard for a garden, a hefty task given how temperamental the soil could be.
"Is Mark retired?" Rose asked when they were nearly there. The ground was soft under her boots, the last remnants of a light snow the other night. It wasn't the poorest part of Baia — that was a different neighborhood in a different direction, Alex explained — but there was a marked difference from the Belikov's section. The houses were only one story and generally on the smaller side. The roads were strictly dirt and mud. What few fences did exist were dilapidated, paint peeling and materials clearly aging.
"Kind of," Alex said, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. "He's Oksana's guardian officially, but given how rare attacks are in Baia, it's not really a job."
The sky was cloudless and the sun was warm despite how drastically south the temperatures headed in recent days. Rose had started running every other morning to stave off all the bread Olena never stopped baking, and she'd been forced to change up her running gear so she didn't freeze in the early hours.
It was almost Halloween, and the rain had made its mid-month switch to snow. When she'd seen the first snowfall of the season, Yeva had turned from the window with a triumphant smile on her face and declared it would be a normal winter before giving Rose an incalculable look that seemed to contrast her words.
"He still gets a salary, I think. I don't know what he's planning on doing about retirement." The pair turned left down a road leading towards the lake. Rose could pull the faint scent of water off the air.
"Why, is he getting near retirement age?" Rose asked.
Alex grinned. Rose could see where the road ahead split off in a T. "He's graying. The men usually come home when they lose the hair color."
"Can I ask why you're not off fighting the great fight?" Rose asked on an impulse, half joking.
His grin faded a bit as they turned left again. "I'm in between assignments," he said evasively. Then: "Trust me, the old woman lets me hear about it at least once a week. Kalya likes having me around, but even she agrees that it's time to get back in the game, as you Americans might say."
"How long have you been in between assignments?"
"Long enough," Alex said and dropped the topic when he turned right onto a short path up to the front door of a white house. He knocked; there was some rustling on the other side of the door, a moment of silence, and then a woman, probably in her thirties, opened the door, a smile on her face.
"Come in," she said in English after her eyes landed on Rose. "Please."
There was an exchange of shoes and then Oksana was leading the two of them through a tiny living room into an equally tiny kitchen. A table big enough for four was pushed up against the wall opposite the refrigerator and oven in an effort to maximize what little space existed. Rose hadn't been seated for more than twenty seconds before a shot of clear liquid landed in front of her. There was one in front of Alex as well; Oksana topped her glass off and set the bottle of vodka down in the middle of the table.
"It's customary," Alex explained when he caught sight of Rose's dubious expression, holding his shot glass up to his mouth.
Oksana mumbled something under her breath in Russian, and she and Alex giggled over a joke whose translation went straight over Rose's head. They threw back the vodka and Rose suddenly felt self-conscious, fingers tentatively resting on the glass. This won't be so bad, she told herself, looking at Alex and Oksana waiting on her.
She tipped the glass back, expecting the familiar burn of something like Smirnoff or Grey Goose, and nearly spit the venom in her mouth all over the wood table. Forcing herself to swallow, she shuddered, making a face as the liquid trekked fire down her throat and into chest. "The hell is that?" Her tongue hung out of her mouth like a panting dog. "Blegh. That tastes like freaking rocket fuel or something. God."
"That's what vodka's supposed to taste like," Oksana said with a wry smile. "I've been to America, just once. It was long enough to know your vodka is a third of the quality for three times the price. And not all of it is potato, which I've never understood."
The burn still lingered. "Can I have some water? I'm not trying to be rude, I'm just not—" She made the mistake of licking her lips and shuddered again at the taste. A tickle ran across Rose's brain, an itch she couldn't quite scratch.
Oksana laughed light-heartedly and stood to get Rose a glass of water. "Did Yeva send you, Alex?"
"For one thing, yeah. Olena also has a question. Where's Mark?"
"In the garden," Oksana replied. To Rose she said, "Toilet's down the hall to the left."
Rose started. "How did you—?" When Oksana just smiled, Rose stood slowly, narrowing her eyes. There was something about the air around Oksana, like she was just so charming—
Spirit user. Weird abilities usually meant that. For a moment, Rose cheered internally. Lissa would be excited to know there was another Moroi wielding spirit.
"Thanks," Rose said, trying to digest this new piece of information. "I'll just be a moment."
"A moment" was actually five minutes of hurriedly typing notes on her phone about her conversation with Alex and the first few minutes of being in Oksana's house. At this point in the game, anything about dhampir culture was relevant. She flushed the toilet to cover her actions and when she rejoined the group at the table, vodka loosening and warming her limbs, Mark had come in from the back and was washing dirt off his hands in the sink.
"You must be Rose Hathaway," he said, his accent less pronounced than anyone Rose had met so far. He smiled, lines crinkling around his eyes, and he dried his hands before holding one out for Rose to shake. "It certainly is a pleasure."
Rose's eyebrows raised as she sat down. "It is?"
"Your reputation proceeds you, I'm afraid," Mark said, running his hands through his gray hair, shaking the short strands out. "Not many people can get their teenage friend elected Queen and fly under the radar at the same time."
"Well, you know." Rose shrugged and grinned. "A lot of work went into that, so I'm glad it's getting some recognition."
Mark laughed.
"What does Yeva want?" Oksana asked Alex, gently shifting the conversation.
Alex, for some reason, slipped into Russian to answer her. Rose managed to catch the words for "business" and "more time" and Zmey's name cropped up more than Rose would've liked in the span of three sentences, but he spoke too fast for her to really comprehend what he was saying.
Whatever he said, it made Oksana shake her head. She, at least, kept to English. "I don't understand why she keeps that man around. She's not getting anything useful out of it."
"From what Kalya and I can tell, it's more for financial reasons than anything else," Alex replied in English and Rose watched his eyes flick for the briefest of moments to Mark's neck. The skin was clear and unmarked. "I've been told she had one of her dreams a long time ago, when they were all kids, about some rich, foreign man who would be important to the family. When Zmey landed on her doorstep, she declared he was the man from her dream. I think Olena was the one to start calling him 'Zmey'. She was certainly spooked by him the first few times he came around. Still kind of is."
"'One of her dreams'?" Rose echoed, confused.
"Yeva Nikolaevna is . . . well, the closest word in English is 'witch'," Mark explained, leaning against the counter and arms crossed over his chest. "But it's not quite accurate. I met Yeva when my mother went to her for a tarot reading when she and I were living in the city. She has dreams that she claims usually come true." His head tilted away from Rose though he kept his gaze on her. "I'm surprised you don't know."
"I know she's freaky as hell," Rose said without thinking, but it made the other three chuckle.
"You'll hear about one of her dreams soon enough," Alex said. "You can't not hear about it when she has one. She can do some other things, but the dreams are a big deal."
"Ooh, I can't wait." Rose mocked excitement before growing serious again. "I figured Zmey was a nickname; what's his real name?"
Alex looked to Oksana and Mark, and all three shrugged. Mark drew a hand down his face wearily. "Abe?" The name rolled off weirdly and he paused. "I think it's Abe. I'm not sure. He never gave a last name." He gave Rose a serious look. "Don't go try looking him up. When he wants to be found, he'll be found."
"I wasn't going to," Rose said, lying straight through her teeth.
Mark looked at her like he knew exactly what she was thinking. Oksana, apparently gifted with some kind of mind-reading ability, shot Mark a glare, who in turn grinned and shook his head.
"You have a bond," Rose said aloud, finally figuring it out.
Mark turned his grin towards her. "We were curious to see how long it took you to figure it out.
"Your ability, Oksana—"
The woman shifted in her wooden, straight-backed chair. "I can brush minds, but it's not as if I can fully read them. I can only get your loudest thought in a moment. I can't see everything you're thinking."
Rose nodded. "Yeah, it threw me. You guys—" She gestured between the couple. "It's almost like a two way bond."
"A little, yes," Oksana agreed. She glanced at the clock above the table and jumped up, collecting the glasses. "I hate to end this conversation so soon, but I'm afraid Mark and I must be going. We're having lunch with the Chesnokovs, and I know this can't be the only errand Olena has you completing today, Alex—" Alex nodded throughout all of it, like he knew exactly who and what she was talking about. "—And Rose, you must come back. Soon. I'm sure you're eager to speak with Mark about the bond. We may not . . ." Oksana glanced at Mark, as if asking permission. He nodded once.
"We may not be living fully in Moroi society," Oksana said carefully. "But we do want the best for our Queen. I'm sure there's plenty you and she don't yet know."
"Yeah, I'm sure, too," Rose agreed, watching the couple through new eyes.
At the door, after exchanging goodbyes, Oksana put a hand on Alex' shoulder. "I almost forgot — what does Olena want?"
Alex threw Rose a glance and then, to Oksana: "Dimitri's turning thirty this year, so Olena's insisting on a party. It might be painful — the man will complain the entire time and probably already has been since she told him — but she's going through with it. She's extending an invitation to you both, especially since Mark is his godfather."
"We'll be there." Oksana looked flattered even though Rose would argue the woman had no reason to be with such a close connection to the family. "When will it be?"
"December, when he and Viktoria are home from the academy," Alex said. "Olena wants as much time as possible to invite literally everyone she knows."
"Good. Let me know when Olena settles on a date." Oksana smiled, soft with memory, and she leaned her hip against the doorjamb. "I remember when he started at St. Basil's. Olena asked me to look after him on the bus to school since she knew Karolina was seven and far more interested in friends. Mikhail Gorbachev was still General Secretary at the time." She sighed, wistful. "It feels like a lifetime ago. I can't believe we're in our thirties now."
Alex shook his head. "Neither can I."
Oksana was silent another moment and then pushed up to stand straight. "I need to get ready. I'll see you soon, Alex. It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Rose."
Rose held up a hand in a wave and turned down the path with Alex as Oksana shut the door. "How old are you guys?"
"Oksana and I are thirty-five," Alex said, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and hunching his shoulders against the oh so threatening flurries that had started. "Kalya's thirty-two. You can't be much older than, what, twenty-five, twenty-six?"
"Twenty-two, actually," Rose said, looking down and kicking a rock out of the street. It'd been helpful to always be pegged as older back in school to avoid getting carded; now it was just annoying.
"Seriously? When's your next birthday?"
"March. Near Easter. Why, did you guys not get a packet of info on me like I did on you?"
Alex shook his head. "If we did, I never saw it. Olena and the old woman just told us that the famous Rose Hathaway was on assignment from the Queen and would be living with us for a while."
Rose made a noise of acknowledgment and the pair were silent as they trekked back into town. "Speaking of age . . . can I ask why Viktoria, a twenty-one-year-old woman, is in school, unlike the people living in the house who are actually, you know, school aged?"
That made Alex laugh heartily. "Paul's currently on suspension. Too many fights outside the gym. This isn't the first time he's been suspended, either. Zoya was supposed to start this year but she won't go if Paul isn't going, and it's making Kalya crazy. We don't send the kids off to school until their first year. I know Kalya and her siblings were at home during the day when they were small, but with everyone working and Olena feeling her age . . . there's a woman who runs like a daycare?" Rose nodded that the word was right. "So Zoya does first year at the local school and Katya and Alexei go to the woman's house for daycare. We pay her a monthly fee and it's not cheap, which is why I picked up bartending on the weekends."
"So that's where you've been going Friday and Saturday nights," Rose surmised. "Where at?"
"A club," Alex said and when Rose pressed for more, he remained tight-lipped.
"Spasibo, Sasha," Karolina said, taking the bag of food Alex had put together out of various purchases from the butcher and grocer, and kissed him on the cheek. "Tiy tozhe, Rose." You too, Rose.
"You're welcome," Rose replied, half a beat behind on reciprocating Karolina's cheek kiss. She pulled away, surveying her latest location. She'd learned early on that Karolina was a waitress, and the lunch rush was in full swing. "Do you need to get back to work?"
Karolina waved her off. "I've got a quick break, and you two are more interesting than Vadim's shouting at the grill." A tub of flatware in the back fell, causing Karolina to look back to the kitchen for a moment. "A lot more interesting." To Alex with a twinkle in her eye, she asked: "Are Mark and Oksana coming to Dimka's party?"
Rose tuned out of the conversation despite Karolina's best efforts to keep her engaged. Looking around the restaurant, she realized she hadn't in a couple of hours and suddenly, her stomach felt like it was about to eat itself. When she focused back in, Alex had slipped into Russian.
"Awesome," Karolina said in response to whatever he'd been telling her when she caught sight of Rose's regained attention. The slang was awkward, like she'd heard it on an American TV show and hadn't used it all that much but was nevertheless trying to fit in. She pulled her phone out of her apron pocket and glanced at the time. "I have to go if I want time to actually eat. Thanks for this, lyubvi."
"Love you, too," Alex replied and Rose turned her head for a brief moment while the pair exchanged a kiss. To the perpetually single, there was something depressing about an act so blatantly chaste and sweet. "Rose? We're done for the day. I'm off to go meet my boss for a quick meet-up, but you're free to go home, if you want."
His tone left no room for arguing; he didn't want her to come with him for some undisclosed reason. Well then. She could take a hint.
"Yeah, I think I know the way," she said. "Left on Nevskaya, right on Polovka?"
"Left on Nevskaya, right on Stepnaya."
Outside, the sun was peeking through the ubiquitous thin gray clouds, but it did little to ward off the chill seeping in through Rose's coat. She wrapped her arms tight around herself, took the correct left, and started plotting a lunch of soup and tea and whatever else that wasn't vodka but would warm her up.
When she made the right on Polovka Street, Rose was hit with the distinct feeling that she was being followed.