Warmth radiated through the passanger window of the big black luxury SUV as Serg pulled into the open parking spot, some stone's throw from the front facade of the coffee shop. The humid air of summer was a shock from the climate controlled paradise of the luxury SUV's cab. The sun was was equal parts cruel and kind, the former before his recovering body adjusted to the sight, the latter as he stopped in the parking lot between parking spots and store front curb: basking in the glow like a big cat sunning, yawning, stretching--until a jolt of electric pain shot up from his right side, and brought him back to his former state. 

Serg just walked to the coffee shop, ignorant and unaware of the world, except for looking this way and that; for danger, not roses to smell, or sun to surrender to. At the very least Alek had to allow Serg his responsibility: the man was loyal to a fault, and ever the guard dog. The coffee shop itself was a matter of Alek sitting in a deeply cushioned, tall backed, leather chair as Serg ordered and paid for the both of them. The blur of coffee scent, idle chatter among the other customers in the shop, and the low hum of accoustic coffee house music allowed Alek a micro-nap. It lasted less than five minutes, ending with Serg's tap on his shoulder, and the handoff of his dark roast with a shot of espresso. Some half and half, a few Splenda packets emptied into the steaming caffeine pool within the double-layered cup, and the lid was returned to the drink. 

It was only that guard dog, Serg, that gave Alek any kind of warning. And that was more muscle memory than awareness; long ago Alek learned that Serg was as good an early warning system as it got when he, himself, was too preoccupied or in such a state that made his own senses dull. The coffee was in his right hand as it rose high in the air, to keep it from collision or danger of spilling. Between the collision, and the sudden extension of his right hand, thus extending his right side, Alek's tongue was firmly thrust into his cheek as waves of pain lapped at the back of his mind like storm waves on some otherwise forgotten shore. His sunglasses hiding any pained cringing, he hoped.

Then her heard the voice. 

"...Evangeline?"

Serge guffawed at the sight of the Zima girl; Sergei had seen little more than photos of the girl in digital for the past five years. Outside the Zima welcoming party for Alek, a party that he had to duck out early in order to take care of loose ends at the order of their father, loose ends that ended in blood last night, Alek had seen little more of the girl than Serg had. Like a soldier years away from home in some foreign war struck dumb at his own homecoming, and the strange sights of those that barely resembled the loved ones he'd said farewell to before deploying, Alek was a maelstrom of emotions both intense and cooled. 

The right hand brought down the coffee from it's safe height just as his left hand reached out, and hooked Eva's tiny body, pulling her in effortlessly into his tall height and wide muscular frame. He hugged her to his left side, no accident, but the hug and the accompanying smile was the true joy of the 3rd of July even as he let go and let her slip back to his own feet. When she dropped his appearance as soon through the prism of her eyes, he couldn't help but laugh into his coffee as he took a long, hard, sip. The bitterness helped suppres the laughter, but only just. 

"I had to show these Americans how to party, sister. Rough business, hot summer nights. Hopefully the kind of partying you're long yet ignorant about. Speaking of parties: what is the plan for tomorrow? I brought Katinka's present home from Russia, the shipping crate arrived just yesterday at the airport. I hope she finds it peace offering enough not have me assassinated for some corporate monkey title."

His chuckle wasn't nearly as bitter as his coffee, but it was in the neighborhood. He adored Katinka, but little birds had chirped at him about how long a tunnel her vision had become over the years he was 'off to war' managing the part of the family business that had laid the foundations of what the Zima family currently was. "There are plans, yes? If not, we have some quick thinking to do, and that will be awfully expensive."

Not that he was supposed to mind that, he knew, in his mind as Serg greeted Eva. Strange seeing such a killer smile so happily, to hear Serg's voice reach joyful tones Alek hadn't heard since that Miami strip club well over a month ago.