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Feliks sized the girl up for a moment, taking another drag from his rapidly shrinking cigarette. [color=8FA1B4]“Travel issues?”[/color] he reiterated, quirking a brow, [color=8FA1B4]“What, are you looking to get past those lovely checkpoints to see your ailing mother in Moscow?”[/color] He laughed once, though there was no humour in it. [color=8FA1B4]“Because if that’s the story you came up with, I’m sure they’ve heard it before.”[/color] 

This girl looked a little young to be racing off somewhere, but Feliks supposed he was a little young too, by that metric. Not that he felt young, and he certainly wasn’t as wide-eyed and open about it as this girl seemed to be. Still, something tugged at the back of his mind, that queer familiarity popping back into his head every time his eyes flicked back to the girl’s face. But he was being ridiculous. How could he possibly think to recognize this girl? Even if she [i]did[/i] look like Katerina, how did he know that wasn’t just his mind taking the blonde hair and the blue eyes and projecting the rest? After all, she’d been a child when he’d seen her last, doubtlessly she would have changed more than his fleeting memory could predict. And surely there was more than one blonde, blue-eyed woman in [i]Russia.[/i] But as much as he rationalized, he couldn’t quite get it out of his mind, the gears in his head beginning to turn. 

Growing a little more serious and focusing on the task at hand, he finished off his cigarette with one long, drawn-out inhale, holding his breath for a moment before releasing it in a cloud of smoke and flicking the butt into the fire. [color=8FA1B4]“On the off chance you’re not a Bolshevik spy and you just need some travel documents, I can help you,”[/color] he finally conceded, stuffing his hands into his pockets. [color=8FA1B4]“For a fee, of course. Where do you need to go?”[/color]