[h1][img]http://i1383.photobucket.com/albums/ah281/Q-C0ntinuum/Perry_zpswtm3j5vv.jpg[/img] Perry[/h1]
[h2]Maxim "Max" Emillianov - Urban Grinds[/h2]

[color=DarkTurquoise]The specialist had not dismissed him, nor had he sounded exactly confident about plausible diagnosis when he prescribed a bunch of tests, Max had lost the count, specially because he had to decide whether or not to pay for tests which would in the long run (judging by the doctor's reaction) would provide more questions than answers. He tried to see it as a small consolation that Viktor agreed with his impression of the specialist. Maybe now that his sight was taken (there were short episodes in which he could see again, some times vague shapes and sometimes with bright colors and full details) he had already started coping by sharpening his other senses, providing him for instance with better insight about the doctor judging by his tone of voice, without having to depend on facial expressions.

A lunch at a Café was much less expensive than any of the tests, both friends had agreed. They would strictly stay together, and refuse to leave for a more private location, and try to get behind this Wilson's case. Even fortune seemed to smile upon their decision, or they preferred to believe it did, and Max could leave the blindfold in his pocket, braced with ordinary shades against the light piercing through his skull. He could even tell general shades of light intensity, even though not in conventional colors he knew and mostly shades which made little sense compared to what reason dictated they should stand for. Yet alone the fact that he did not have to keep his eyes closed all the time was nothing short of a good omen. Maybe it was excessive stress or some nonsense of the sort and went away given time, without them having to do anything about it.

Entering a random Café with shades on and speaking Russian rose stares in most parts of the world, though. Having shades on and speaking French would have most probably been "fashionable", speaking British English (not the one real Brits spoke on random streets, though, but rather the one famous actors did) would have been "classy", speaking something Scandinavian (even though most people had no idea how languages spoken in Scandinavia differed from one another) would have been "eccentric". Russian was not rare enough to be considered exotic, nor was it chic and romantic by reputation, and did not even have the merit of not being recognized by the majority. But today Max did not want to care about people, today he was fed up and in pain and insecure and needed the sanctuary of his mother tongue while speaking with his life long best friend.

[color=FireBrick][i]"About how old were the couple?"[/i][/color], Viktor tried desperately to get a clue of what they would be looking for once they opened the door and entered Urban Grinds. [color=FireBrick][i]"Not old, I guess?"[/i][/color] All the confidence Max has built up about the development of his new skills was fading as he realized how little he could tell about the two he had met yesterday without having been able to see their faces. [color=FireBrick][i]"And what is old?"[/i][/color], Viktor tried harder. [color=FireBrick][i]"Like parents' age?"[/i][/color] It was not the best he could do, Max knew well, and was waiting for Viktor to lash out some form of anger at him any moment. Instead his friend took a deep breath and pulled the door open. [color=FireBrick][i]"There must be at least three of them at the table"[/i][/color], Max tried harder to be helpful, [color=FireBrick][i]"The couple and this Wilson."[/i][/color] Slightly pursing his lips Viktor added [color=FireBrick][i]"If none of them is late."[/i][/color] While Max was trying to persuade his friend about how he did not believe they were the latecomer kind of people, Viktor took Max' cellphone out of his pocket and called the number the woman had saved.

Fortunately there was only one woman who looked at her phone at the right time, and she even looked up and waved at them. Hanging up and putting the cell in Max' hand, Viktor grabbed his arm in order to lead Max to the right table [color=FireBrick][i]"Found them."[/i][/color], he said. A rather shy [color=White]"Hello."[/color] from Max and a friendly [color=White]"Hi, hope we are not too late."[/color] from Viktor were all that was said before the two friends stood a bit awkwardly at the table, still uncertain as to whether or not they should just take seats and order, or to wait for a word of invitation from the doctor who had supposedly hoped to spend his day off quietly with his assistant and her husband. Gently Viktor put Max' hand on the back of a chair. From beneath the shades one could see a shadow of disbelief in Max' stare as his fingers realized to which object the bizarre shapes his eyes saw actually belonged.​[/color]