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With Katya gone, Feliks relaxed a little, not realizing how tense the woman was making him until after she left. He took the opportunity to light a cigarette, allowing himself a moment to appreciate it before setting to work. 

He ended up burning through a few cigarettes once he set to work, tapping the ashes into the metal cup that he used as an ashtray without even glancing up, so focused was he on his task. Stamps were a tedious pain, yes, but there was a certain challenge to them as well. Transferring the image onto the new block was a more complicated process than one might think, and the great attention to detail one needed while carving it out was something Feliks took to rather easily. Of course, that didn't stop him from growing irritated at the increasing soreness in his shoulders and back as he hunched over the damn thing, the stubbornness of the rubber, or the fact that he had to pace himself on the cigarettes if he was going to last out the rest of the week before he could get his hands on more. 

Eventually he decided he needed to take a break from stamp making before he threw his project - a particularly difficult one, apparently - into the fire. Setting the in-progress stamp aside, he finally leaned back in his chair, numerous joints popping as he stretched. Fishing his watch from his pocket, his eyes widened when he saw the time; Jesus, had it really only been an hour since he started? He could have sworn he'd been working longer than that. 

He frowned at the fireplace, finally noticing the gathering cold as the embers within darkened. Stiffly he stood, groaning irritably, and crossed to the fireplace with some difficulty to toss some more coal in, scowling at the smell. He hated coal fires, but coal was cheaper than wood, and short of tearing down other parts of the palace, he wasn’t sure where he’d find it anyway. Still, that sharp twinge of sulfur was something he couldn’t wait to be rid of once he found a way out of this place. If he ever did. 

Sitting on the arm of his fireside chair (easier to get up that way), he supposed he might as well get to work on Katya’s passport document. Of course, even though they’d apparently need to fabricate a lot of her information, he still needed Katya for that. Was she still wandering around? 

He stood more easily than he would have had he sat in the chair properly, and made his way to the door, sticking his head out and frowning at the cold in the hallway beyond. [color=8FA1B4]“Katya?”[/color] he called, looking up and down the hall as his voice echoed. [color=8FA1B4]“Katya!”[/color]

He waited a few minutes for the woman to produce herself, but there came no reply. With a long sigh, Feliks pulled on his coat and set out down the hall, looking for her. 

It took about fifteen minutes, but it turned out that the thick layer of dust on the palace floors served as a useful guide; Katya’s footsteps were recorded in them clear as day, and though it was a little frustrating to have to follow her meandering path, Feliks eventually found his way to one of the larger ballrooms. In his head he’d dubbed it the Tapestry Room, and as luck would have it, that was the very thing drawing Katya’s attention now. 

Feliks made no attempt at subtlety as he crossed the ballroom floor, though he came to a halt at the bottom of the carpeted stairs leading up to the tapestry, looking up at Katya as she studied it. Leaning against the banister, Feliks pulled a cigarette and a matchbook from his pocket, lighting up before he spoke. A small personal reward for walking all the way over. 

[color=8FA1B4]“Are you done exploring?”[/color]