03-12-2023, 04:24 PM
What Colette admitted made Adrian work to actively coach the muscles in his face. Lips pushed together. The hollow of his cheeks flenched. Jaw flexed. Head nodding. He nearly put a hand to his chin before stopping himself. But beneath the rise of brows that almost gave away the impression of absurdity, his eyes were keenly focused on her reaction. Testament to Colette, she legitimately believed in her chances for success. Such American hubris. Fly into Moscow and the next day book a personal appointment with one of the most powerful men in the world? She might as well set her sights on Ascendancy instead. He was much harder to reach, he mused, for those unable to brush the dreams of gods and men. Whatever Colette wanted with the Privilege of DI, sitting at this rooftop bar, distant views of the Kremlin walls a scant mile away, was about as close as she was apt to get to achieving it.
Adrian wasn’t going to enlighten her of these truths. She would learn them herself in time, and rather than crush her aspirations, he was more interested in her motives at all. She was clearly alone. No retinue of her acclaimed family hoisted her upon the heights she strove to seize. Why was she really in Moscow?
Following the expert schooling of his reaction, Adrian settled his thoughts with a refreshing breath. His opinion of Colette was formed solid, but what he did not yet know was how well she played the game when she knew the pieces were set against her. And he was genuinely interested now the wider picture was taking shape.
“Privilege Sulteev sits atop the Custody’s largest bank and media corporations. If the power of money and narrative at the highest level isn’t enough, it's said he is one of the Ascendancy’s oldest friends. You might as well climb the mountains and grasp the clouds. Strange place for Stella Moreau to send someone.” His tone was inquisitive. Despite silent opinions of these preposterous aspirations, he carefully leaned into that charming accent so many Americans admired and wielded that heat like pulling moths to the flame. It was a dance, and Adrian was mindful of the ears and microphones around them. Saying his name marked them both, and the Kremlin was in sight. Adrian knew how the world worked. He was careful not to criticize. Not when he knew someone was listening, maybe not even when they weren't.
Adrian wasn’t going to enlighten her of these truths. She would learn them herself in time, and rather than crush her aspirations, he was more interested in her motives at all. She was clearly alone. No retinue of her acclaimed family hoisted her upon the heights she strove to seize. Why was she really in Moscow?
Following the expert schooling of his reaction, Adrian settled his thoughts with a refreshing breath. His opinion of Colette was formed solid, but what he did not yet know was how well she played the game when she knew the pieces were set against her. And he was genuinely interested now the wider picture was taking shape.
“Privilege Sulteev sits atop the Custody’s largest bank and media corporations. If the power of money and narrative at the highest level isn’t enough, it's said he is one of the Ascendancy’s oldest friends. You might as well climb the mountains and grasp the clouds. Strange place for Stella Moreau to send someone.” His tone was inquisitive. Despite silent opinions of these preposterous aspirations, he carefully leaned into that charming accent so many Americans admired and wielded that heat like pulling moths to the flame. It was a dance, and Adrian was mindful of the ears and microphones around them. Saying his name marked them both, and the Kremlin was in sight. Adrian knew how the world worked. He was careful not to criticize. Not when he knew someone was listening, maybe not even when they weren't.