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Dmitri: The Academic

“This certainly is an… interesting establishment,” I said, sipping something that tasted like an alchemy experiment. I wondered what I was doing here.

“I’m Ivy. You got a name?” he asked me. He had a disconcerting habit of staring directly into my face without looking away.

“Uhm. Yes. It’s Dmitri,” I said.

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re from the Slavic Empire? How’d you get out? Don’t you get killed for even mentioning the outside world? I mean, the Tsar was crazy even before that botched revolution.”

“I was very young. My parents fled before Lord Rasputin summoned the first firestorms. We found asylum here.”

“Really? How’d you manage that?”

I hesitated, and looked away.

“I have… the talent.”

Defying all the laws of physics, his eyebrows managed to climb even higher.

“You study at the Acropolis?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause.

“I’ve always wanted to see the Acropolis.”

Then he looked at me expectantly.

An interesting night, indeed.

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