02-23-2025, 09:45 PM
He agreed to take one a piece of luggage, quietly wondering where the bellhops had vanished to, though he assumed they would return in a trice. Yet before either could take a step toward the elevator, a ripple of tension cut through the air and his gaze shifted to the subtle disturbance nearby.
The would-be thief was either brave to attempt such a sleight of hand in this part of Moscow or he was foolish to think he would get away with it as they were likely immersed in a sea of hidden cameras. Seven watched the situation unfold with an air of casual interest, as if he was watching a scene in a play. In that moment, he couldn’t help but admire the quiet efficiency with which the situation was resolved. A man—his presence marked by calm authority—had intervened, handling the disturbance with such deft resolve that even the residual tension seemed to dissolve into the opulent atmosphere of the Radiance lobby.
He assumed that the young lady’s personal guards would attend to her welfare, but Seven’s honor demanded satisfaction for himself. “Are you alright?” he inquired, but by the narrow glint in her expression, guessed she was right as rain.
The would-be victim of the pickpocketing was being doted over by her parents while the white knight that was her hero seemed content to step onto the sidelines until the family was out of sight. Humility, then, Seven guessed the man possessed, and he was even more impressed.
“Very nicely done. I wish you had been with me when I was in Tehran last year.” He then addressed the lady in white. “Someone in District 5 gained a very lovely pocket watch.” If Seven held a grudge over the incident, his smile did not betray as much.
“My name is Seven…” he began, his voice carrying the crisp lilt of his Swedish origins, a spark of mirth dancing in his eyes, as he introduced himself to both. “Yes, like the number.”
The would-be thief was either brave to attempt such a sleight of hand in this part of Moscow or he was foolish to think he would get away with it as they were likely immersed in a sea of hidden cameras. Seven watched the situation unfold with an air of casual interest, as if he was watching a scene in a play. In that moment, he couldn’t help but admire the quiet efficiency with which the situation was resolved. A man—his presence marked by calm authority—had intervened, handling the disturbance with such deft resolve that even the residual tension seemed to dissolve into the opulent atmosphere of the Radiance lobby.
He assumed that the young lady’s personal guards would attend to her welfare, but Seven’s honor demanded satisfaction for himself. “Are you alright?” he inquired, but by the narrow glint in her expression, guessed she was right as rain.
The would-be victim of the pickpocketing was being doted over by her parents while the white knight that was her hero seemed content to step onto the sidelines until the family was out of sight. Humility, then, Seven guessed the man possessed, and he was even more impressed.
“Very nicely done. I wish you had been with me when I was in Tehran last year.” He then addressed the lady in white. “Someone in District 5 gained a very lovely pocket watch.” If Seven held a grudge over the incident, his smile did not betray as much.
“My name is Seven…” he began, his voice carrying the crisp lilt of his Swedish origins, a spark of mirth dancing in his eyes, as he introduced himself to both. “Yes, like the number.”