08-18-2014, 08:08 PM
Once out of sight of the crowd of pampered patrons, alone in the cab with Victoria and the cabby, Drayson's strong front was finally allowed to slip a little. He settled into the warm seat eagerly and brought chill fingers to his mouth for a few puffs of warm breath to ward off the chill that had been settling in. He was content to ride in silence, and by the time they arrived at her building most of the chill had seeped out of his bones.
The security at the front door was about what he expected; most of the people living in the building worked in the Kremlin's various offices and departments, and he was well aware how regularly the neighborhood was patrolled by the CDPS. He'd overseen the schedules himself, and made sure they changed regularly. Patterns, after all, were easily defeated by the sorts of people interested in causing trouble in such an area.
The lack of elevator wasn't an issue for him; he was fit enough to climb a few flights of stairs without tiring himself out, and the added bit of exertion would help get his blood flowing and fight off the rest of the chill night air. He did take a moment to shake a bit of the excess water from his clothes while she rung out her hair, then moved to follow her up the stairs. His coat was large enough on her that he wasn't dangerous distracted by her leading the way up the steps, although the turn of her stockings-clad calves were impressive.
While the security at the entrance was about what he had expected, and the rather unimaginative interior decoration of the place, but the security at her door? And in extension, all the doors, certainly seemed a bit much. They even changed colour to indicated their status. He knew about such systems, had seen them in the Kremlin, but his building was not nearly so recently renovated as this.
Once inside, he sunk to a knee and untied his soaked leather dress shoes and set them neatly to one side, the laces carefully folded along the surface of the tongue to assure they dried out evenly, then followed as she led the way through her apartment. It was small; his was larger, but she had the benefit of location and modern amenities. For instance, he was not so lucky as to be able to get a pot on the boil from the door.
Her apartment wasn't quite how he had pictured it; she seemed more the type for dark wooden bookshelves and red brick fireplace. Certainly not...bluish pink? On the other hand, it was neat, functional, and he suspected she spent even less time at home then he did.
Despite how everything had turned out thus far, he had no complaints about the evening. Perhaps the only heartache that would come out of it all was putting up with Francis' gloating, a thought with caused him to smile ruefully. The man was insufferable at times, but his heart was in the right place.
He accepted the towel graciously and used it to dry most of the water from his head by the time they had returned to the kitchen and waiting cups of tea. He let the towel hang around his shoulders for the moment, and carefully plucked at his grey vertically striped dress shirt. The way it, and the undershirt beneath, was clinging to his chest was cold and clammy and all around unpleasant, but at least she had cranked the thermostat a bit; it would probably start drying out in no time.
It was while he was loosening his tie that she suddenly started laughing, and he glanced up at her with a look of amused surprise; what had her so bursting with energy all of a sudden? He watched her a moment, admiring the flush of colour the laughter brought to her skin, the honest emotion behind it, but her apologetic explanation was met with a belt of hearty laughter of his own.
"No no, you're right. This has been the most interesting date I've been on in a long time. Best laid schemes of mice and men, as they say."
He smiled warmly, hands resting on his hips as he let the tea finish steeping. Hands rested as they were, ti helped lift his wet shirt a bit from his sides, and in turn allowed it to air out a bit more.
The security at the front door was about what he expected; most of the people living in the building worked in the Kremlin's various offices and departments, and he was well aware how regularly the neighborhood was patrolled by the CDPS. He'd overseen the schedules himself, and made sure they changed regularly. Patterns, after all, were easily defeated by the sorts of people interested in causing trouble in such an area.
The lack of elevator wasn't an issue for him; he was fit enough to climb a few flights of stairs without tiring himself out, and the added bit of exertion would help get his blood flowing and fight off the rest of the chill night air. He did take a moment to shake a bit of the excess water from his clothes while she rung out her hair, then moved to follow her up the stairs. His coat was large enough on her that he wasn't dangerous distracted by her leading the way up the steps, although the turn of her stockings-clad calves were impressive.
While the security at the entrance was about what he had expected, and the rather unimaginative interior decoration of the place, but the security at her door? And in extension, all the doors, certainly seemed a bit much. They even changed colour to indicated their status. He knew about such systems, had seen them in the Kremlin, but his building was not nearly so recently renovated as this.
Once inside, he sunk to a knee and untied his soaked leather dress shoes and set them neatly to one side, the laces carefully folded along the surface of the tongue to assure they dried out evenly, then followed as she led the way through her apartment. It was small; his was larger, but she had the benefit of location and modern amenities. For instance, he was not so lucky as to be able to get a pot on the boil from the door.
Her apartment wasn't quite how he had pictured it; she seemed more the type for dark wooden bookshelves and red brick fireplace. Certainly not...bluish pink? On the other hand, it was neat, functional, and he suspected she spent even less time at home then he did.
Despite how everything had turned out thus far, he had no complaints about the evening. Perhaps the only heartache that would come out of it all was putting up with Francis' gloating, a thought with caused him to smile ruefully. The man was insufferable at times, but his heart was in the right place.
He accepted the towel graciously and used it to dry most of the water from his head by the time they had returned to the kitchen and waiting cups of tea. He let the towel hang around his shoulders for the moment, and carefully plucked at his grey vertically striped dress shirt. The way it, and the undershirt beneath, was clinging to his chest was cold and clammy and all around unpleasant, but at least she had cranked the thermostat a bit; it would probably start drying out in no time.
It was while he was loosening his tie that she suddenly started laughing, and he glanced up at her with a look of amused surprise; what had her so bursting with energy all of a sudden? He watched her a moment, admiring the flush of colour the laughter brought to her skin, the honest emotion behind it, but her apologetic explanation was met with a belt of hearty laughter of his own.
"No no, you're right. This has been the most interesting date I've been on in a long time. Best laid schemes of mice and men, as they say."
He smiled warmly, hands resting on his hips as he let the tea finish steeping. Hands rested as they were, ti helped lift his wet shirt a bit from his sides, and in turn allowed it to air out a bit more.