08-17-2014, 03:39 PM
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?"
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?"