[h1][img]http://i1383.photobucket.com/albums/ah281/Q-C0ntinuum/Perry_zpswtm3j5vv.jpg[/img] Perry[/h1]
[h2]Maxim "Max" Emillianov[/h2]
[color=DarkTurquoise]Just a moment ago Max was sincerely scared of the stranger sitting next to him on the bank, and now she had put him in quite a predicament, which, compared to what little knowledge he had gathered about life and people, was no less scary than the thought of being abducted by the American and her accomplices. Firstly, Max was right to be scared of the »aid« she could have had, since not long after he had had to blow his cover about not understanding English a guy joined the conversation, bringing her her cellphone. Whether or not he was really her husband was totally beside the point, since there was nothing against married couples committing crime together. Secondly, Max found out that his bench mate worked for this Doctor Wilson who was oh the grand miracle worker; ans according to her husband she was even more dedicated to her work with him than to her marriage. And last, but not even close to least, it was mentioned how this specialist would not take patients over normal appointments, but rather through »word of mouth«, which sounded like 18th century rather than the 21st.

The more the couple talked, the more it sounded like a perfect trap: a private little lunch together, the doctor, his assistant, and her husband, held in a location of course well known to the three and not known by the two invited Russians, one of them in severe pain and practically blind – with the exception of short episodes in which Max regained his sight. Even the conversation between the two sounded more like an agreement rather than a real flirt-and-complain.

On the other hand, though, there had been no definite sign for him to know for sure he was not to trust these people. For all he had known there were enough creepy physicians out there who thought of themselves as blessings wasted on the rested of the humanity, yet good enough in their craft for the patients to put up with all the hassle.

And Max was desperate. He was desperate and was running out of options. There was also the fact that this joined lunch was after the »normal« appointment he had later, so that if things worked out with the doctor they had found through normal means of the medical institutions there would be no need of the meeting with the couple and their creepy doctor.

[color=White]“Urban Grinds?”[/color] was all he asked after the couple sounded to be done chattering, while pretending to end call with his friend - in which he talked Russian once more - before handing over his phone, so that she could type and save her own number. [color=White]“Your name?”[/color] he reminded her then, since one number saved under over a hundred under a name he did not know was of no use. He did not bother look for the café since he still needed to be wearing the blindfold, and would not have been able to tell much without it, either. [color=White]“Max,”[/color] he introduced himself then before saying goodbye and parting with the couple. A certain Dr. Wilson and one first name of his assistant. He could only hope there was something available about him and his field of expertise they could find on the net before tomorrow.​[/color]