But enough of all this beating around the bushes of detente... [rp for littleilona]

[sarkraticmethod]

The evening, in Sark's opinion, was looking to be a total waste. He'd been given strict instructions to eliminate Alexander Molokov and the intel he had received indicated that he'd be at a performance of the Russian ballet in Moscow tonight, because Ilona was performing and he rarely, if ever, missed her performances- never mind that he was a

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[littleilona]

The ballet tonight is a new one, based on Lewis Caroll's "Alice in Wonderland". Ilona is a lovely, dark-haired Alice, curious and playful and whimsical and wicked, and she dances as if there is nothing but this night and this dance.

There is a reason that mousey little Ilona Sergievsky caught the eye of Alexander Molokov, the directors of her corps, and most of the Russian-speaking, ballet-loving world. She loves dance with everything in her, and that makes her radiant when she dances.

Enjoy, Julian.

[sarkraticmethod]

Well, it's clear to see why Molokov keeps coming back to see her- she is rather brilliant- but Sark's not here for pleasure and he's doing his best to focus on Ilona's value as an asset than as a performer, but after an hour or so, he almost forgets, getting far more caught up in the performance than he intended to, so by the time it's over and the haze has faded, he's more than a little cross with himself

[littleilona]

Ilona is out of her costume and brushing her hair out when he knocks. She had noticed the roses, without a card, and had assumed that they were from Sascha. That is the sort of thing he does often, after all. And since he began courting her, there was hardly anyone else who came to her dressing room after a show.

When she hears the knock, she calls out "Come in!" (in Russian, of course), smiling a bit. It's not a precisely happy smile, but it's a smile, the kind she puts on for Sascha every night, as she hears the door open. "I didn't think you were coming tonight, Sa--" She sees Sark's reflection in her mirror and turns around quickly, her hair fanning over her shoulders. "Oh! I... I am sorry, I thought you were... Who are you?"

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark gives her a polite little bow. "Julian Sark," he responds, not even bothering with an alias. He's not a known entity and that name isn't even real anyway (well, the last name isn't). "Forgive my forwardness," he continues in flawless Russian, because despite been in England and Ireland most of his life, he's still a native-born Russian, taught and trained by native-born Russians. "I had heard of your talents from a close, personal friend whose judgement I deeply trust. I... Sent the flowers ahead of time, prior to the performance

[littleilona]

Ilona isn't sure what to think of this boy, hardly older than her, if older at all, but she nods politely. "Thank you. They are lovely."

Of course they weren't from Alexander, now that she thinks. There are no lilies at all amongst the roses. He knows how she loves lilies, and makes a point to always have at least one lily amongst any other flowers there might be.

"I am glad that you enjoyed the performance, sir."

[sarkraticmethod]

He gives another, somewhat awkward, bow- like a boy who knows certain conventions to use in polite company, but not being sure which are appropriate for what circumstance, so he's sticking with the one thing that doesn't seem the least bit offensive.

"It was an honor to have attended." Now he's intentionally trying too hard- some people find that endearing. He doesn't know if Ilona will or not, but if she doesn't, he can always change tact.

He pauses, lingering, because he doesn't quite want to leave just yet- both him and the character he's playing, albeit for two different reasons. "Might I be so bold as to ask to escort you home? A bit old-fashioned, I suppose, but it's a cold night and I've heard talk that there are dangerous people about." Your present company included. But she doesn't need to know that and he's giving no indication that he's even remotely that sort of person.

He ducks his head, sheepish and blushing. "If that's not too forward of me, of course."

[littleilona]

"Oh..." Ilona hesitates, and looks down at her hands, her slender fingers twisted together. "I... That is very kind of you, but I'm not sure if... I have a... a friend who walks me home often. He is probably here tonight."

It doesn't matter that she knows Alexander is not here. He would still know, and she's a bit nervous what might happen if he hears that she was being walked home by some other man.