06-29-2014, 12:46 PM
Adoration of the crowd was the goal, but Nikolai could not necessarily say he reveled in it. He was pleased with the success, and he returned to his table with as much satisfaction as he could have wanted.
While the audience eventually retook their seats, he rounded the table to shake hands and share a few words with each individual he would be sharing the meal with.
Michael was not very talkative, and he and Nikolai shared a quiet, knowing look with one another while grasping hands. Nik continued to radiate power, and he found Michael's lack of reaction amusing.
When he came to Marcus, Nikolai took a good amount of time to greet the young man. This was officially the first time they had been introduced, although Nik could say he knew more about this young man than he did of most. From the EoA's selection of finalists, Nikolai hand-selected this promising young man to take on the title of Sigma Apprentice. It was an old-fashioned idea, but Nikolai embraced the concept wholeheartedly.
"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Marcus."
Nikolai said as they released hands. "How are you settling into the position? I trust you've been well-cared for?"
The inquiry was sincere. After all, Marcus was his guest. His well-being was ultimately Nikolai's responsibility.
After a few brief words, Nikolai took his seat at a beautifully dressed round table. Such was the signal for their server to approach.
Nikolai did not recognize him, but he observed the young man's mannerisms with rapt attention. The name, Pyotr Grigory, Nikolai made sure to assign with his face. The identity was swiftly sealed in the depths of his memory. The attention with which the Ascendancy gave to Pyotr was sincere. It was his job to make every individual in his employment to feel important: from a Sigma to a waiter.
Pyotr drew a bottle of wine with impressive flourish that sparked a polite smile from Nikolai. The man's spirit shone through with such profound passion that he instantly held the Ascendancy's respect. Unlike the dismissal displayed by some of his tablemates, Nikolai could see beyond salary and realize a man's potential. No matter a man's job, from the lowly to the esteemed, when performed with enthusiasm, he would be a great success.
The genuine mood that Pyotr elicited from the Ascendancy dimmed somewhat upon presentation of the Merlot.
Nikolai stared at the label for moments long enough to draw the curiosity of the onlookers. 1996. Château Pétrus from Bordeaux, France. Pyotr faded from the sudden memory, only to be replaced by a Bolognese sommelier. The bright lights of the Kremlin popped suddenly dark, and the ballroom shrank to a tiny Wine Bar. Across from him, the impassive face of Michael Vellas transformed into the distinguished grin of Garret Rahvid.
Pyotr served the very wine that Nikolai drank only once per year. The same wine as what was shared to celebrate the end of the fall term at the Università di Bologna. The same wine he had been sipping when he first learned of an invitation to Rome. To meet the man whose coarse for vengeance put Nikolai on the path to be seated here tonight.
The moment passed, and Nikolai forced himself to delay thinking about the past until quieter moments. There was a distance in his gaze when his eyes met those of Pyotr's. "Thank you, Pyotr."
Nikolai gestured at the table, once more himself. "Please do,"
and offered a crystal globe for Pyotr to fill.
Nikolai would not sip from it, however, until everyone was served, and even then, it was only to barely wet his lips. He rarely drank wine, after all, and even when he did, it was rarely in public company.
While the audience eventually retook their seats, he rounded the table to shake hands and share a few words with each individual he would be sharing the meal with.
Michael was not very talkative, and he and Nikolai shared a quiet, knowing look with one another while grasping hands. Nik continued to radiate power, and he found Michael's lack of reaction amusing.
When he came to Marcus, Nikolai took a good amount of time to greet the young man. This was officially the first time they had been introduced, although Nik could say he knew more about this young man than he did of most. From the EoA's selection of finalists, Nikolai hand-selected this promising young man to take on the title of Sigma Apprentice. It was an old-fashioned idea, but Nikolai embraced the concept wholeheartedly.
"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Marcus."
Nikolai said as they released hands. "How are you settling into the position? I trust you've been well-cared for?"
The inquiry was sincere. After all, Marcus was his guest. His well-being was ultimately Nikolai's responsibility.
After a few brief words, Nikolai took his seat at a beautifully dressed round table. Such was the signal for their server to approach.
Nikolai did not recognize him, but he observed the young man's mannerisms with rapt attention. The name, Pyotr Grigory, Nikolai made sure to assign with his face. The identity was swiftly sealed in the depths of his memory. The attention with which the Ascendancy gave to Pyotr was sincere. It was his job to make every individual in his employment to feel important: from a Sigma to a waiter.
Pyotr drew a bottle of wine with impressive flourish that sparked a polite smile from Nikolai. The man's spirit shone through with such profound passion that he instantly held the Ascendancy's respect. Unlike the dismissal displayed by some of his tablemates, Nikolai could see beyond salary and realize a man's potential. No matter a man's job, from the lowly to the esteemed, when performed with enthusiasm, he would be a great success.
The genuine mood that Pyotr elicited from the Ascendancy dimmed somewhat upon presentation of the Merlot.
Nikolai stared at the label for moments long enough to draw the curiosity of the onlookers. 1996. Château Pétrus from Bordeaux, France. Pyotr faded from the sudden memory, only to be replaced by a Bolognese sommelier. The bright lights of the Kremlin popped suddenly dark, and the ballroom shrank to a tiny Wine Bar. Across from him, the impassive face of Michael Vellas transformed into the distinguished grin of Garret Rahvid.
Pyotr served the very wine that Nikolai drank only once per year. The same wine as what was shared to celebrate the end of the fall term at the Università di Bologna. The same wine he had been sipping when he first learned of an invitation to Rome. To meet the man whose coarse for vengeance put Nikolai on the path to be seated here tonight.
The moment passed, and Nikolai forced himself to delay thinking about the past until quieter moments. There was a distance in his gaze when his eyes met those of Pyotr's. "Thank you, Pyotr."
Nikolai gestured at the table, once more himself. "Please do,"
and offered a crystal globe for Pyotr to fill.
Nikolai would not sip from it, however, until everyone was served, and even then, it was only to barely wet his lips. He rarely drank wine, after all, and even when he did, it was rarely in public company.