11-25-2014, 07:18 PM
All of Moscow looked alike to Enzo's country-born gaze. The streets and buildings rolled endlessly, but the transition between affluence and destitution was blunt. His driver, Vitya Olegovich, said the area was called Zamoskvorechye, but the farther south they journeyed, the worse the architecture deteriorated until apartment buildings were replaced with industry yards. Finally, work yards gave way to abandoned lots.
Enzo followed a map as they made their way, learning the routes in the process. VItya made to point out a blue-lit post on one corner. "There is metro station. Go there if I can not return for you. We almost there."
The spire of technological brilliance was off-putting in the impoverished neighborhood, its location was easy to note. A few minutes later, he was dropped off at a freshly shoveled drive-way.
The house itself was ... unusual, but Enzo cared only about its utility or proximity to other structures. A brief flicker of nostalgia flattened his expression, but by the time the door opened, he'd climbed the stairs, ready to shake hands with the occupant.
The consultant was near to Enzo's age, he guessed. He wasted no time in introducing himself.
"Bonjour,"
Enzo greeted, voice cool and professional. The switch to English was purposeful, but the heavy accent remained. "I am Enzo Dolan."
The consultant should be expecting him, but Enzo was wary of strangers. Neither would he assume to invite himself inside. He remained safely out of arm's reach on the porch for now.
Enzo followed a map as they made their way, learning the routes in the process. VItya made to point out a blue-lit post on one corner. "There is metro station. Go there if I can not return for you. We almost there."
The spire of technological brilliance was off-putting in the impoverished neighborhood, its location was easy to note. A few minutes later, he was dropped off at a freshly shoveled drive-way.
The house itself was ... unusual, but Enzo cared only about its utility or proximity to other structures. A brief flicker of nostalgia flattened his expression, but by the time the door opened, he'd climbed the stairs, ready to shake hands with the occupant.
The consultant was near to Enzo's age, he guessed. He wasted no time in introducing himself.
"Bonjour,"
Enzo greeted, voice cool and professional. The switch to English was purposeful, but the heavy accent remained. "I am Enzo Dolan."
The consultant should be expecting him, but Enzo was wary of strangers. Neither would he assume to invite himself inside. He remained safely out of arm's reach on the porch for now.