“It’s not.”
“It should be.” She reaches for my phone, and I lift it easily out of her reach. Her eyes narrow. “You’re abusing your height.”
“You’re abusing your charm.”
That stops her.
Only for a second, but I see it. The small flicker of surprise before she recovers.
“I have charm?”
“Unfortunately.”
Her smile comes back slowly this time. It’s softer than the last one. “Then show me the picture.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll ask me to delete it.”
She looks like she might deny it, then thinks better of it. “Maybe.”
“I prefer not to negotiate.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You keep saying that like it will become useful.”
The music changes before she can answer. Faster now. Livelier. The woman in the red coat claps her hands and pulls the little girl into a careful turn while the crowd cheers.
Katerina laughs, clapping with them.
Then the dancer looks at her.
I know what is coming before Katerina does.
“No,” Katerina says immediately, stepping back.
The woman in red smiles wider and reaches for her hand.
Katerina shakes her head, laughing now. “No, no, absolutely not.”
The crowd encourages her.
Traitors, all of them.
She turns to me, eyes wide. “Help me.”
I look at the dancer, then at Katerina. “No.”
Her laugh turns shocked. “Roman.”
“You wanted to see Moscow.”
“I did not ask to become part of Moscow.”
“That’s how travel works.”
