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Feliks’ eyebrow raised again at the girl as she prattled on about her memories, or lack thereof. Odd, for sure, but even more odd that she felt the need to explain all of that to [i]him.[/i] His comment about a mother in Moscow was just a common joke; visiting a dying family member was a common excuse used by people trying to convince the checkpoint officers to let them pass without the proper documents. [color=8FA1B4]“Right, good to know,”[/color] he commented flatly, absently digging in his breast pocket for another cigarette. 

No sooner had he pulled it out, though, than he heard a little bell, and looked over to see that the damn shopkeep had finally opened up. Tucking his cigarette back into its case for later, he motioned with his head to the shop, looking to the girl. [color=8FA1B4]“Come with me.”[/color] 

He didn’t wait for her to reply before he pushed off the wall he had been leaning on. When he moved, however, he really [i]did[/i] stick out of the crowd; he walked with a pronounced limp, clearly favouring his left leg. He made a beeline for the shop door, grasping the door frame to climb the single step that led up to it. Once inside, he went straight to the counter, exchanging a brief greeting with the shopkeep, an older gentleman who seemed to still be getting everything set up for the day. Behind him were a number of shelves, with various varieties and colours of ink in bottles on display. Along the walls of the shop were numerous different types and sizes of paper, and even a few bound books, though considering the nature of the shop, they were probably blank. In lieu of talking to him further, Feliks simply handed the shopkeep a list, who took it and promptly set about finding whatever was on it. 

Leaning gratefully against the counter, Feliks stifled a groan, shifting his weight so as to put as little on his left side as possible. Mornings were always a bitch for that hip, and standing still in the cold for half an hour certainly hadn’t helped. The inside of the shop was marginally warmer, but all he found himself longing for was another cigarette and a seat by the fire once he got back. For the moment, though, the girl’s odd request got him thinking. 

[color=8FA1B4]“Anywhere is fine?”[/color] he repeated, a little incredulously. [color=8FA1B4]“Surely you have [i]some[/i] idea of where you want to go. And I’ll need an actual destination if I’m going to help you with your [i]problem.[/i]”[/color] He and the shopkeep briefly met eyes, though a warning look from Feliks set the man back to work. Those damn gears in Feliks’ head were turning, but he didn’t want to run too far away with the Russian Circus on that bright idea just yet. 

[color=8FA1B4]“Well, why are you leaving?”[/color] He asked, deciding to take some pity on the girl and help her out a little. Besides, if she made up her mind, he’d have a paying customer. [color=8FA1B4]“Are you looking for something? Want to do something? Or do you just want to escape the burning barn of a country that is great mother Russia?”[/color] His last suggestion was laced with no small amount of acid, Feliks’ face twisting up in disgust.