A Blind Date

[Drayson]

She had a beautiful smile. Honest yet reserved, and of course there was something to be said about the hint of chagrin realization that warmed her features. And the shift of topic had been a resounding success it seemed.

"I have, actually. I sat in on part of a semester of their Human Genetics course when I still worked at Scotland Yard. I must admit I probably spent more time in the library then the classroom."
He smiled softly and offered a hint of a shrug, "The course material was a bit above my head, but I had above average grades in the Academy's science courses, so was deemed the best candidate to judge the curriculum's application to the CDPS' criminal science requirements."


He could gladly spend hours just browsing that library's shelves, although he had drawn no shortage of strange looks from the students and researchers that he had shared the space with. His style of dress hadn't changed much since then, so when mingling among college students, he had not exactly blended in. His size hadn't helped much either.

"There are many great libraries in DVII I still wish to visit. Sadly though, I doubt I will get many chances for such on work-related reasons."
If it weren't work related, it simply was not likely to happen. If he did take vacation time, it was to visit his mother, not go travelling.

[Torri]

The hint of a smile and a shrug, Torri liked it when Drayson was coy. They had both clung to formality before, and despite the comfort by which Torri reacted to his presence, she hadn't felt the connection to him personally. She did now that he'd loosened the collar and opened up beyond the typical small-talk he might make with one of the bureaucrats he only tolerated.

"Human genetics?"
She started, clearly surprised to hear of a detective taking the course. People like Francis were the ones to handle the scientific enterprise itself while delivering the results to men like Drayson. She'd never considered that the detective would study the subject itself.

"I'm a Medical Geneticist. Well, I was in the middle of my residency in Berlin when I was pulled here. What that means is I specialize in the study of genetics for the identification, treatment, and cure of medical disease. Like the Sickness. My work is trying to identify genetic basis for susceptibility to the Sickness."


Where talk of the library lit a spark in the normally demure doctor, describing her work was to reveal a bonfire of passion, that, sadly, did not allow her to finish her residency. The Facility was blacked-out. She'd never be able to claim her experience there as satisfactory to residency completion. However, if she performed the job the army expected her to perform, she did not doubt she'd be fine in the end. If she failed, well she didn't want to think about the consequences. She'd probably end up in Havana delivering vaccines for the rest of her life. Or worse.

[Drayson]

"Do not get your expectations too high, Victoria. I assure you, had I been taking the course as a student, I would not have lasted long. I was mostly there to observe and question. That, I am usually quite good at. I have found that it has helped me interact with the more technically inclined types, like Francis. I like to think I do not ask him quite so many 'stupid' questions as others may."


He sipped his wine as she described her work. Much like how he could not describe the specifics of cases, he suspected she was not allowed to get too in-depth on just what she did, but it was an interesting field. One that she clearly enjoyed, from how she lit up to the discovery of his brief stint as a medical student. "It had always seemed odd that it is viewed as a disease in the more laymen sense, yes? I mean, it always seemed more like a birth defect, although one that onset rather suddenly in the global population?"


He knew perhaps a little more about the Sickness then the average person. Even with what enlightenment he had received from Alric, it had all seemed...odd. Why had it happened so suddenly, globally? Shouldn't something like that have always been present, and just be bubbling to a head? Of course, he had no in-depth understanding of genetics and viruses and the like, so he could have easily missed the point without even realizing it.

[Torri]

They were walking a dangerous path. One that made Torri gleam with interest. "I could talk about theories on the Sickness all night, and bore you to tears, I am sure,"
Torri's smirk was not exaggerating. "I do find it fascinating. And yes, you're right, disease implies an infectious agent. Imagine the days before virology, for instance. Scientists could not image a virus, yet there were highly infectious agents of subcellular size transmitted from person to person. It would have been difficult for science to conceive of something it was not aware existed. Many of the great minds today propose a similar situation: that we should consider what we have never considered before. So for now, disease is the most appropriate term assigned to the Sickness."


She liked that he thought with such angles. In her world, terminology mattered, and whether disease, defect or disorder was applicable, it was not in Torri's power to discern. But she was impressed that Drayson had questioned it. Then again, such was his exact job.

Torri was relieved when their first course arrived. Not so much because she was hungry, which she truly was starving, but because the topic might naturally cut from the Sickness. She couldn't talk much more about work without breaking security clearance, and some might find the subject morbid. She wasn't one of them, but she imagined it wasn't great dinner date conversation.

For a first course, she'd been tempted to order the beets, gherkin and sprats but she could only imagine the aroma of a commonly canned fish was not inviting for a date. Instead, she'd selected grilled goat cheese served on bread with beets and apple. The dark grill marks criss-crossing the cheese square looked divine. It took every lady-like behavior in her to not shove it in her mouth in one go.

So she smiled and folded her napkin in her lap while Drayson did the same.

"How is yours?"

[Drayson]

As interesting as an indepth discussion on the Sickness could be, he doubted she could talk on it, seeing as it was related to her secretive work and all. So he let the topic drop as the first dishes of their meals arrived. His was a small plate of Foie Gras, a process of preparing goose liver and served on a bed of salad and Cranberry jelly under a light layer of raspberry sauce. He'd never had it before, but had heard of it with good reviews.

The smell was pleasant; fruity, thanks to the sauce, with a hint of the liver beneath. He arranged his own napkin, calmly took up his cutlery, and began neatly cutting his appetizer into neat, bite-sized pieces. Much like Victoria, he was starving, but refused to let that get in the way of proper manners. It wouldn't due for someone of his office to be eating like a normal person, after all.

But, at her question, he took up a small, bite-sized piece of his meal, using his knife to assure it had an even sampling of the jelly and salad, then took a bite. A moment's silence as he sampled the flavour and texture, then he nodded his approval and set down his knife to take a sip of wine. "Excellent. Although, not something I would want to eat every day. The price."
He grinned, then took another bite, eating slowly to fully enjoy the meal.

"I assume you have not seen many of the sights Moscow has to over yet, considering your work?"
There was no world-renowned library to be found; the Russian State Library was certainly an impressive collection of books, but a result of the long passed Communist state, it had been little more then that. A place where knowledge had been collected. But the city had a wealth of attractions that drew tourists from all around the CCD, asides for it being the seat of power.

[Torri]

Drayson mentioned price again. The accompanying expression was joking, but Torri didn't respond. Maybe Francis pushed too hard; difficult to conceive that a frail man like Francis could strongarm a mountain like Drayson into doing something he didn't want to do, but Drayson was kind and honorable. Pushing his sense of obligation may be easier than first impressions judged. Torri hoped that wasn't the case, and for the time being, the conversation distracted her from further analysis. Maybe she just also needed more experience with what it meant to be someone's date.

"You're right. I have seen practically nothing. Every day - everyday I've been in Moscow anyway - I go to the Kremlin, but the only thing i've seen is hallways. I am fond of museums, and there are some incredible ones inside. My apartment is in Kitay Girod, so I suppose I've seen a few streets around there, also."
She shrugged as she slipped a succulent bite of goat cheese from her spoon.
It'd be wonderful to have the time of day to sight see. Maybe in the next few weeks things would settle down? Unlikely. But possible.

"Any recommendations? What's your favorite place to dazzle a woman?"[/b
]

[Drayson]

Drayson laughed heartily to her question, smiling warmly all the while. "You have seen my entire repertoire, Victoria. Or shall, I suppose. If fine dining and beautiful decor does not work, then it is the pub and the stories that come with it. And I assure you, the old patrons there have many interesting stories."


He pondered in silence a moment, giving her question serious thought. Academically, he knew quite a bit about the city's more interesting and touristy areas, although that was more due to job requirement then academic interest. Such places were hot-beds of petty crime and identity theft, as well as prime targets for groups like were tearing up DV.

Like himself, her schedule probably did not allow her the time to go sight-seeing at the more common times of day. There were always night tours, but many of those were oriented towards ghost-stories and local legends rather then architecture and more main-steam takes on history.

"The Kolomenskoe Museum-Reserve provides a rather pleasant view of the skyline and river day or night, and has a wealth of regional history. Much of the architecture you can see there was moved stone for stone from other regions and rebuilt in their original style at the reserve."
Another bite of his food and moment's thought.

"Or, if you wish to get out of the city for a bit, there are many villages that dot the local countryside. Some date back to the 11th Century or earlier. There is a legend that the village of Dyakovo hosts the Lost Library of Ivan the Terrible. Reputedly full of magic tomes and works of Arabic and Christian lore of exceeding rarity. Supposedly, the Library fell into the bowels of Hell and is guarded by the spirits of Ivan's last loyal soldiers. There are night tours that go to various sites that play host to such lore."


That story only held his interest because it had persisted for centuries, with some historians having traced it as recently as the 1980s before all inquires were seemingly dropped. The idea of that library was intriguing to him simply for what knowledge and history was housed within, but truthfully, it seemed unlikely such a thing truly existed, else someone would have found it by now.

His Wallet buzzed silently in his pocket, and he smiled apologetically once more as he plucked it free to see what it had to say. A different on-going case; The Butcher, a serial rapist/murderer who had been plaguing Moscow for the past few months with at least ten known victims already.

The message contained a detailed autopsy of the latest victim, and he chose not to peruse it at the moment. The others had been...disturbing...to say the least. His expression darkened momentarily; there could be no denying that he wanted the culprit off the streets. He'd already lost one certifiable sicko, and had no interest in a second slipping through his fingers. But, he had faith in the detectives working the case; he was simply overseeing from a distance, ready to cut any red tape they ran into to assure they could continue to progress as quickly as possible.

The Wallet was tucked away again and he shook his head before taking a sip of wine to dispel the ill taste the case had left in his throat. "I don't mean to sound like a tour guide. There was a group hosting a fake night tour company. They would take online bookings and payments in advance for a tour that didn't exist. Learned a thing or two about the industry while we were looking into it."


He recognized the neighborhood she lived in by name and nodded in approval, impressed by the location. "Quite close to the Kremlin. You are lucky to have found so convenient a place. Near an hour commute by metro for myself. But I rather enjoy it. All sorts of interesting people to be met, if you can stand the crowds."

[Ascendancy]

Gamemaster plot twist:

Seemingly out of no where, the lights flicker around the room. The restaurant staff pause and look around curiously. Then the lights go out completely and are replaced with dim emergency lights. A split second later, the overhead sprinklers are engaged. A soaking water sprays down from above.

A small fire broke out in the kitchen. Its quickly contained, but the restaurant has to be evacuated none the less.

[Torri]

The lost library of Ivan the Terrible. Torri actually considered taking up the search as a hobby. If she had hobbies, anyway. That would be a good one. "I'd be inclined to look for this library of yours, but I just got back from the bowels of hell and let me tell you, it's not very nice this time of year."
Her humor twisted dry. She was about to explain how her place in Kitay Girod was only hers because it was arranged by the government, but apparently their server was arriving with the next course. Torri dabbed her mouth with her napkin and watched eagerly.

Until the lights flickered. All sense of humour smoothed itself from her expression. The servers paused and the already quiet conversation in the Hall fell eerily silent. When the lights died completely, Torri pulled her bag to her lap and instinctively scoot her chair backwards like she was ready to make a hasty departure.

The emergency light system became the new ambiance. Her heart fell silent in her chest and every muscle in her body tensed. Part of her assumed the city was under attack, but the rational part of her searched for more evidence before jumping to conclusions. Whichever way, she had to assume something completely awful was about to happen.

Luckily, the fire sprinklers came on. She gasped when that ice cold water sprayed her down, but at least it was better than being blown up.

Well, if there was a fire, they should probably leave. She got up, spitting water from her lips as it poured down her face.

[Drayson]

He had little doubt that what she had been through had been a sort of hell on Earth. He had seen the reports from the CDPS offices still functioning in that part of that Dominance, and it had only convinced him that a state of heightened security (hidden from the view of the public, of course) was needed.

His smile froze when the lights flickered, his gaze briefly locked on the waiter and their main courses, which looked delicious. Such things happened, but it was unusual in Moscow, and even less likely to happen in the district that Cafe Pushkin resided. His mind raced to understand what was happening. The list of possibilities were limitless, and the waiter seemed more surprised then nervous.

The lights went out entirely, and emergency lights came on a few moments into the sudden darkness. A part of his attention noted that they were likely not quite fully up to code; unfortunately, such lights were a bit of an eye sore, so a place like the Cafe would be loathe to install as many as were likely required.

And then the sprinklers started, and he understood what was transpiring. A kitchen fire. There were the sounds of a controlled panic in the kitchen, and an irrate manager near one of the cleverly hidden doors the waiters used.

Confident that nothing requiring his presence had transpired, Drayson gave the food, still held by a now wet and confused waiter, a side goodbye look and turned his gaze back to Victoria, where he found himself momentarily distracted. His was a mind trained to notice details, and the sight of her standing from her seat was one rife with details that screamed for his attention.

On the other hand, he was known as a gentleman for a reason. Drayson stood, and shrugged out of his suit jacket, stepping around the now gawking waiter and moved to drape his jacket around her narrow shoulders, smiling far more warmly then the falling water surely felt, "Well, this is going to make my walk to the metro a memorable one. Best be seeing you to a cab before you catch a cold, yes?"