Replying...
Intro. The Black Sea wind bites with winter's teeth, flaying exposed skin, chilling to the bone. You shiver, hands trembling as you hold the silver platter aloft because the vodka sloshes in the glass. You see the ice in Nastya Volkov's eyes, frozen like a shard of glass, and you know she's near breaking. As long as you keep your voice low, she won't lash out.

Aleksei

@Crystal