[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190303/b8c0d24f5e75e3a36f0d47303b0360cb.png[/img][/center] Katya, eh? Another coincidence. [color=8FA1B4]“I’ll need your last name too,”[/color] Feliks stated, rounding a corner onto a narrow street. There were a few more trash bin fires here and the odd beggar; folks usually preferred to gather away from the main drag, where the communist officers didn’t patrol quite as frequently. Feliks barely noticed them, continuing doggedly on. That damn wind always found a way to sneak into his coat, even more chilling now that they were no longer directly in the sun. [color=8FA1B4]“It better be warm,”[/color] he grumbled at Katya’s second question, rolling his eyes at her complaining. He felt the same way, of course, but he wasn’t so naive to think anyone else cared. In any case, if it wasn’t warm when they got back, he’d be quick to fix that if it killed him. He comforted himself as they trudged on through the cold with the thought of finally being able to sit down by the stove, each little jolt of pain in his hip motivating him to move a little faster. Fortunately the market wasn’t too far from their destination, though the last leg of the trip did involve walking across a large square open to the wind, much to Feliks’ displeasure. Feliks hardly looked up as they reached their destination, though it really was quite a sight: None other than the imperial Winter Palace, massive and commanding, spreading seemingly endlessly out to either side with the Neva flowing behind it. In the time since the revolution, the Palace Square in front of it had somewhat filled in; a little homeless encampment here, a merchant touting wares there, much of the area in disarray. The palace wasn’t much better; while from a distance it looked impressive - and its size alone was still a marvel - it, too, had fallen into disarray, the gleaming white, green and gold exterior having largely faded and chipped away. Parts of it were either collapsed or burned out, and only a few of the higher windows had escaped smashing from the stones of children and loyal communists. The doors and windows on the ground floor were all boarded up, but Feliks wasn’t headed there, anyway. He led Katya along the edge of the square to the side of the palace, making a beeline for a window with a larger gap than most between the boards. [color=8FA1B4]“This way,”[/color] he instructed, placing a hand on the lower board and giving it a few downward jolts until it slammed down, pivoting on a nail on one end as the other moved freely. Leaning in with a muffled groan, he set his bag of purchases inside the gap before following it, bending to slip between the boards. He struggled slightly to lift his left leg inside, but managed, gesturing for Katya to follow before stooping to pick up his bag.