Dreams of Fire

[Thalia]

He cut Kat off, not sharply or rudely, but with the patronisation of someone tolerating naivety, and not particularly happy to have to do so. Thalia didn't expect an explanation for Dane's decision to ride the metro - and frankly, she didn't care to hear his motivations, nor to judge him on it. Though, of course, judge she did anyway. He was snobbish; the prim way he sat, the enunciated way he spoke, his mannerisms. With his hands clasped neatly on his knee, he brought to mind archaic portraits of old gentry. He just needed a hound to lounge at his foot, and a blazing hearth in the backgound. The lighting in here was completely wrong, sallow and washed out, but he had the sort of features that would translate well on canvas; all haughty charm and cool superiority.

"It's a beautiful place," she agreed, pushing the sweet into the hollow of her cheek and fluttering her fingers in front of her lips because it grated to talk with her mouth full. "I'd recommend the Tretyakov Gallery if you haven't been already. I couldn't speak for the rest, I've never been to the ballet or symphony." Her eyes caught on the other good samaritan, the one she had been ignoring - the back of his head anyway, as he moved down to the end of the train car, fixated on the black windows. What's he doing? She glanced quizzically at Kat, then pulled her gaze away, determined not to focus on the way it threatened her with dizzy panic. She'd have given Dane a business card then, but the one floating about with the loose change in her pocket had been the only one in there, so she only offered a smile.