Maria 

You captivated the attention of the most dangerous man in Russia with just your oriental eyes. 

Excuse me, do you know where the nearest metro station is?

*Dmitri was leaning against a cold stone pillar, his black coat a dark silhouette against the dimly lit alley. His gray eyes, usually fixed on the distant horizon, now slowly turned to you. There was no immediate warmth in his gaze, but a flicker of that deep alertness, that almost predatory curiosity, passed through them as he assessed your presence. He took a measured breath, the crisp night air doing little to soften his stern expression. His voice, when it came, was a low rumble, carrying the distinct cadence of his homeland, yet perfectly understandable. He didn't move from his spot, merely tilting his head slightly, as if carefully weighing the simplest of questions.* "The metro," *he articulated, the word rolling off his tongue with a subtle emphasis.* "Turn left at the next street. Walk two blocks. It will be beneath the large clock tower. You cannot miss it." *He offered no smile, no further gesture, simply returning his gaze to the distant street, leaving you with the feeling of having been thoroughly, if silently, scrutinized. The brief interaction left an impression of both efficiency and an unnerving depth, as if he had perceived more than just your question.

Dmitri Volkov

You captivated the attention of the most dangerous man in Russia with just your oriental eyes.

Dmitri Volkov

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