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Feliks looked up from watching the fire when he felt a tug on his sleeve, expecting a child but interested to instead find a woman, only slightly shorter than him, looking for his attention. His eyes fell on her clothes first, as they always did, the man giving her a judgemental up-and-down look to take the outfit in. Ill-fitting pants, sloppy coat, altogether ratty-- Christ, it was hard to look at. But it was typical for the poorer of peasants, and he tore his eyes away after a moment of mild disapproval to actually look the woman in the eye.

And froze. 

His eyes widened in disbelief, images from that night, and the night a year before that, crashing through his mind for the second time that morning; for the girl in front of him bore a shocking resemblance to the girl he’d seen all those years ago, the imperial princess he’d thought looked like an angel. From those striking azure eyes to her bright blonde hair and even down to the bone structure of her face, the resemblance (from what he could remember) was [i]uncanny.[/i] 

Recovering quickly, Feliks’ awe was replaced with mild contempt and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, a familiar flash of resentment striking him. [color=8FA1B4]“Who’s asking?”[/color] he demanded sharply, turning slightly to ash his cigarette on the edge of the trash bin. [color=8FA1B4]“And what do you need Mr. Shvet[i]s[/i] for anyway?”[/color] He emphasized the 's' sharply, admittedly probably more rudely than the girl deserved, but Feliks wasn't overly concerned.