06-20-2015, 07:43 PM
Enzo's gaze shifted from Tony back to Sebastian. Strange how he found himself so comfortable in Tony's company and so strained in Sebastian's. These people are not my people, he told himself. The modern world viewed custom as something aligned with nationalism, ethnicity or rituals. In reality, customs were ingrained in every man's reality whether they assigned that word to it or not. It was in the way strangers greeted, the food they ate, and the flow of conversation at dinner. To Enzo, these Russians - which was how he thought of them - were the strange ones. Perhaps it was the country lifestyle in which Enzo was raised, or the steady wisdom of his mother's influence, but he was accustomed to people treating each other in a certain way. He briefly remembered his first few weeks in Rome, foolish as he had been. The romans were of a closer heart and mind to his own people, but the city warped lifestyles. How hard his transition had been, how rude the awakening. His travels in the years since took him through much of the mediterranean, yet the sea was a source of uniformity for everyone he met. His blue sea. Even in Egypt the sea was a source of unification. But in Moscow, he was surrounded by eastern men of wealth and influence trapped in a city so large it would take days to walk to the countryside on foot.
His intuition prickled defensively every time Sebastian looked at him. Tony probed for the source of contention between them, but for Enzo's part, there was none but what was fabricated from Sebastian's silent accusations. He could not understand their source. Enzo had been nothing but congenial since their meeting, if a little off-put by Sebastian's initial forwardness or in some of the way in which he treated Emily.
"I have no problem,"
Enzo replied, but did not wince away from the challenge in Sebastian's eyes. He knew a sense of confusion crossed his face at mention of some heretofore unnamed man.
The question on Enzo's face turned to Tony, or one of the other men, like they might hold the answer as to this Gustov's identity. Perhaps the question was really about Sebastian's sanity after all.
His intuition prickled defensively every time Sebastian looked at him. Tony probed for the source of contention between them, but for Enzo's part, there was none but what was fabricated from Sebastian's silent accusations. He could not understand their source. Enzo had been nothing but congenial since their meeting, if a little off-put by Sebastian's initial forwardness or in some of the way in which he treated Emily.
"I have no problem,"
Enzo replied, but did not wince away from the challenge in Sebastian's eyes. He knew a sense of confusion crossed his face at mention of some heretofore unnamed man.
The question on Enzo's face turned to Tony, or one of the other men, like they might hold the answer as to this Gustov's identity. Perhaps the question was really about Sebastian's sanity after all.