[img]https://68.media.tumblr.com/28f5c8d08a10db13d7323bd8a274eb79/tumblr_olgfq5iWuY1tkzrnno1_1280.jpg[/img]

[center]A Hotel in Paris | April 14, 2012[/center]

Sonya hesitated, before answering. Sure, the man seemed nice enough, and he looked at Dmitri with what she observed as something like kindness in his eyes. He even seemed to know the conventions of nicknames in Russia. However, this person was still a stranger, still a man. Trust was not something she could afford to hand out without regard, especially in circumstances where her environment was completely unfamiliar. She therefore maintained her frown, still clutching Dmitri close. Speaking quietly, she finally responded to his question. [color=fff79a]"Sonya. Sonya Romanov." [/color]

She watched him open his bag, and produce an envelope nearly identical to her own. Her eyes widened slightly, and she glanced at her own envelope again- on which Dmitri was now chewing- before looking back at his. Wanting to address the coincidence, she paused, but did not know a subtle way to approach the topic. She opened her mouth a little, but closed it after a moment, unsure of the English word for what she wanted to say. It took a solid minute before she could verbalize her thoughts on his first comment. [color=fff79a]"Um, not laws. How to say- конвенций? I do not know. The way people regard it, not the government. Individuals. Conventions, I think?"[/color] Struggling to find the right words, she stumbled over her sentence, fumbling with her pronunciation as well. She gave up, and moved onto the next point.

[color=fff79a]"I do not use эскорт. I will not take chance- Dmitri and I will walk to the estate, так безопаснее."[/color] Sonya shuddered, and shook her head. [color=fff79a]"I will say hello, I think, to the people with the envelopes, and then I will leave on my own."[/color] The last three words were emphasized, however unintentionally. She did not seem happy or angry, rather, determined, or at the very least logical and certain. 

Dmitri cried out suddenly, dropping the envelope. He had cut his hand on the sharp paper edge of the flap. Sonya sat down on one of the chairs, setting down her satchel, and held his little hand in her own. The boy fell silent, and she kissed the palm of his hand, smiling at him. [color=fff79a]"Все хорошо, хорошо, хорошо,"[/color] She whispered, holding his hand gently. [color=fff79a]"Не бойся, это только на секунду больно..."[/color] Reaching into her satchel, she pulled out a thin roll of bandages. Peeling off a bit of it, she wrapped Dmitri's hand loosely, to help him keep from picking at the cut.

Sonya bent over, to reach for the envelope on the ground, and her satchel fell off of her shoulder. Scrambling to pick everything up, she flushed red. Dmitri started to cry out again, raising his arms towards his mother's hair, grabbing a handful of curls, and pulling on them. Sonya took a deep breath, and tried to collect herself again, stammering. [color=fff79a]"I apologize, I am not good at balance."[/color]