To say that things remained tense in the Dassin house for a few days would be an understatement. Henri and Elena both faithfully kept their promise of civility, but were cool and frosty and barely spoke. Jean was a little better, but seemed for the most part to have sided with Henri. Marianne and the two little ones didn't seem to know which side to choose and simply tried to ignore the unpleasantness as best they could. Gleb had the great honor of knowing that the estrangement in this happy family was his fault. As hard as it was, however, it was a comfort to know that he had more or less come clean even if the circumstances were less than ideal. He had expected to feel exposed, but even with Henri's staunch and disapproving silence he felt safe. He knew that these people would keep his secret, even if begrudgingly.

Of course the polite hostilities were not forever. The Dassins were far too close knit of a family for something to fester between them for long. Henri began to poke Elena in the ribs again when she was kneading and she would throw flour at him or chase him with the spoon and laugh at his terrified expression. Marianne resumed her battle of riddles against Gleb and Vincent and Vera demanded his opinion on the diet their pet spider "who kept running off". Mme. Dassin looked on quietly and smiled, knowing that peace had been restored.

xxxx

Summer was now slipping by with increasing speed. The hot days of August cooled as the new month rolled in, and the nights started to get chilly. Customers came and went. Mornings were spent in the kitchen, evenings at the bar and waiting on tables. As Gleb's foot regained its old strength, he began to help outdoors as well. He would chop wood for the bread ovens and stove, or work in the gardens that provided so much of the inn's food supply. As a young boy, Gleb had always loved plants and working in the soil again was strangely comforting. His extra pair of hands lightened Henri's work load and the younger man was grateful, although he was still somewhat wary of Gleb and his motives.

As September drew to a close, the family began to prepare for the annual harvest party. The children excitedly informed Gleb that they went every year, notwithstanding the inn and its guests.

"The Festival, Easter, and Christmas are the only days we really take off," Marianne explained. "The guests get told that it's a 'you can stay here, but have to take care of yourself' kind of situation. And of course the dining room and bar are closed."

Gleb was able to glean from silly stories of past years' celebrations and excited ramblings, that the Festival (as it was reverently called) centered around the pressing of the wine grapes from all the local vineyards. This was done in the town square, and everybody helped in the sorting and crushing. There was also a large market and an abundance of delicious food. At sunset, however, the fun really began. The presses, jars, and empty storage bins would be cleared away. Everyone would return home to wash sticky hands and faces and replace their grape-stained clothes for fancier ones, then come back to the square. In the days leading up to the Festival, some of the local boys would work to collect old brush and scrub. This was heaped at the center of the square and then, as the sun set, they'd light it, making a truly enormous bonfire. There would be firelit music and dancing (and a fair amount of extra eating) until quite late and it was all extremely fun.

"You'll need a new suit," Elena told Gleb the morning that Vincent and Vera accosted him weeding the carrot bed and excitedly informed him that there was only a week to go. "That coat of Henri's looks ridiculous. It's too small and doesn't match the rest of your suit. "

"And you're just telling me that now?" Gleb scowled good-naturedly.

"Well I was too busy to do anything about it before now," she huffed. "I'll ask Mama about getting some fabric."

"That would be a ridiculous expense on my behalf, Lena. Besides, how on earth are you going to find time to make me a suit? You barely have had time to eat for the past week what with all the canning and preserving you have been doing!"

"Gleb Vaganov, if you are going to the Festival party with the Dassin family, I will see to it that you look respectable. The case is closed."

"Now wait a minute, isn't that supposed to be my line?" Gleb called after her, a smile coloring his words. "I'm supposed to be the intimidating one, remember?"

"Pooh," was the only reply he got, eliciting a full laugh out of him, before he returned his attention to the weeds he was pulling up.

Elena grinned as she skipped into the house. The Festival was always fun, and watching Gleb experience it for the first time would make it even better. Her expression abruptly fell as she remembered how much her father had always loved the work and the bonfire and the bustling crowds; how he'd complain good-naturedly about the extra work of preserving season, but secretly enjoyed stealing spoonfuls of jam or relish when he though no one was looking. This would be the first time that he wouldn't be with them.

A sigh slipped passed Elena's lips as she stirred one of the pots. She had discovered that this was how it was for her. She would be doing something perfectly normal and suddenly it would remind her of her father, bringing back a pang of grief. At the beginning, everything seemed to remind her of him, but now the sharpness had lessened a little. It was still there, of course, but she no longer felt completely crushed by it.

She turned her thoughts to Gleb's suit. Would grey or black look better on him? Maybe a brown plaid? A shiver of…something ran down her spine and settled in her stomach. He would be devilishly good-looking in all of them, of course. Even in rumpled work clothes with dirt on his face and tousled hair he was handsome. She sighed again and moved to look out the window to where Gleb was working, fiddling idly with the wooden spoon in her hand. Vincent and Vera were back with him again, pretending to help and instead getting in the way, each anxious to impress on him the importance of the Festival. He looked amused and so at home sitting between her little siblings that her heart melted. Now he was gently scolding Vera for throwing dirt in her brother's hair and setting one disgruntled youngster on one side of him and one on the other. He spoke firmly, but gently to both and soon had them helping him with his weeding.

"Elena, the blackberry jam!"

She pulled herself back into the real world, flushing to find her mother's eyes fixed on her. Elena hadn't even heard her come in.

"Oh, right!" she hurried back to her place by the stove, but the sweet image of Gleb, Vincent, and Vera remained in her thoughts. It was so terribly domestic it made her blush.

What if this was your home? a tiny voice in her head whispered. Your kitchen, your garden, your children, your…Elena pulled the thought up short. Thinking such things was most definitely not helpful. She turned her mind to a marginally safer topic.

"Mama, can I walk into town tomorrow afternoon to buy some cloth? I know it would be expensive, but Gleb really needs a new suit for the Festival party. His current one is so small it makes him look like a scarecrow!"

Her mother chuckled at the image, but admitted that it was true.

"You know, Elena, I think I still have a bolt of that blue and grey plaid material that I got for such a bargain price this past spring. After you are finished with that jam, go check in the sewing closet under the linen. I think it just might fit the bill and you wouldn't have to spend the money for new fabric."

"Parfait! Merci beaucoup, Mama. You are a genius"

"Tout pour toi, ma petite," her mother smiled. "Besides, I think it will suit him, so to speak."

Elena laughed at the joke, but secretly had to agree that it would suit him very well indeed.

xxxx

"Well, shall I disgrace you, your family name, and your nonexistent cow, do you think?"

"Are you fishing for compliments, Glebushka?"

Gleb smiled charmingly and made a slight bow.

"But of course."

Elena rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, but obliged him and studied the effects of her labor. The new suit fitted him well and she had been right in her estimation of the blue and grey plaid. All in all, he looked dashing and handsome and dreadfully charming. Which he was of course. She flushed slightly, but did her best to hide her discomfiture under professional approval. She nodded and hummed thoughtfully.

"Yes, I think it will do nicely. See, I told you those buttons would go with the coat."

Now it was Gleb's turn to roll his eyes.

"Alas, my inner seamstress is woefully unfashionable."

"Gleb! Are you almost ready? We have to get back to the square soon or they'll have lit the bonfire without us!" Marianne's anxious voice floated up the stairs from the kitchen.

Elena moved to go out into the hall and scold Marianne for shouting when Gleb hollered right back that he was "on his way". She turned back and raised an eyebrow. Gleb ignored her disapproving expression, brushing down his coat one more time.

"In all seriousness, thank you Lena. This is far more comfortable than my other one, not to mention better looking."

"You're welcome," she smiled.

"You look very nice, did you make your dress too?"

Elena looked down at her dress self-consciously, swishing the skirt. It was made of a soft blue cotton organza that draped nicely above and was cinched with a wide sash at the waist. The skirt was fairly full and had the perfect swish for dancing.

"Mama made it for my sixteenth birthday. Thankfully, it still fits me."

"I like it," Gleb smiled.

"Are you coming?" Marianne called from below and Gleb rolled his eyes.

"As we speak, Madame!"

He offered Elena his arm with the silly expression that always made her laugh, then swept downstairs to where the rest of the family was waiting.

xxxx

By the time Gleb and the Dassins reached the square, the last few stragglers were coming in. Marianne promptly grabbed Gleb's hand and dragged him forward into the thick of the crowd that had gathered.

"You don't want to miss the bonfire lighting, do you?"

Gleb, who was focusing on not bumping into anyone while matching Marianne's reckless pace, only shook his head. Elena, who was holding the hands of Vincent and Vera, and Jean were not far behind. They all arrived in clear view of the woodpile just as the first few tendrils of smoke curled up from the pile of tinder. Within a few minutes, the fire was roaring, forcing people to fall back, despite the evening chill that was beginning to set in.

Large trestles, which had served for market tables earlier in the day, were heaped with delicious food. The Dassins were honorably represented, having provided half the bread and several enormous pots of Mme. Dassin's famous soup, in addition to the three large cakes which Marianne had made and which, as a result, were a matter of some family pride.

Everyone fell to in the cheerful manner of those who have worked hard all day and now get to enjoy an evening of bounty and fun. The tables that had been reserved for diners were soon filled by the old or lame members of the neighborhood. The rest simply stood around in groups, chatting while the children alternated stuffing their faces and running around, causing a cheerful ruckus. A group of young men were chosen to act as fire-guards for the duration of the meal. They stood around the bonfire and kept any youngsters from getting too close to the blaze, which was now burning steadily and throwing enough heat to warm nearly the whole square.

Gleb was dizzy. The amount of French being spoken around him made his head hurt. His time at L'Auberge du Miroir had improved his fluency, but not to the point where he could listen to a large number of excited and earnest conversations falling over each other without being at something of a loss. To make it worse, person after person came over to say hello to the family and greeted him as one of them. He knew that he had met many of these people at M. Dassin's wake and funeral, but he had been working on an hour and a half of sleep then and couldn't remember all their names. He did recognize several of the bar regulars and a few of the others by sight, but beyond that he was well and truly stumped. Nevertheless, he did his best to nod and smile and answer their friendly questions.

"Ah! Blanche, it's so good to see you! Yes I'm well, thank you. How are your parents?" Elena's voice floated to his ears in a momentary lull in the conversation around him.

Gleb turned to where she stood and saw Elena was speaking with a tall blond girl. Her hair was carefully done and she wore long silver earrings set with dark blue stones that contrasted well against a nearly flawless complexion. As he looked over, she caught his eye and smiled. She made a quiet comment to Elena, who flushed and seemed to be hiding an annoyed expression under her smile.

They made their way towards him and Elena introduced her companion as Mademoiselle Blanche Bouchard, the daughter of the miller that Henri worked for part-time. As younger girls, Elena and Blanche had attended the local school together.

The girl was friendly and likeable, insisting "just call me Blanche, we're all friends here!" She had heard so much about him, she said, like the time he fought off burglars. Gleb laughed off her praise of his brave exploit (which seemed to have grown in the telling). If he found her slightly effusive, he marked it down to the occasion and maybe a little of the wine that had accompanied dinner. She begged to be allowed to introduce him to the local young people, and then he was swept off by her hand on his arm. If Gleb was bewildered before, he was soon far more so. Blanche knew everybody and everything and kept up a constant flow of conversation that was hard to follow. He met several dozen young people as well as her father, who he already knew from Henri's connection to the mill, and her mother, who was nearly as effusive as her daughter.

Lamps began appearing on the tables as the last rays of the already-set sun faded from the sky and the moon rose. It was nearly full, casting a pale light over the square to augment the fire. The musicians fetched their instruments and there were a few minutes of controlled chaos as tables were moved and couples formed. Gleb, with Blanche's arm still looped through his, was on the opposite side of the square as the Dassins when the first dance began.

"Come, Gleb, won't you dance with me?" Blanche tugged his arm, looking up at him hopefully. Her blue eyes were big and persuasive.

"I'm afraid I'm no great dancer," he warned, but allowed himself to be pulled out into the square which was quickly becoming full.

The dance in question was a folk tune that was lively and vigorous. Gleb followed along by example, though as he had claimed, he was not a very experienced partner. Despite this, it was the most fun he'd had in ages and Blanche only laughed when he bumped into her. As they worked their way around the square, Gleb saw Henri dancing with the Mademoiselle Marie Dubois, the doctor's daughter. Elena had confided to having suspicions in that quarter and seeing them, he had to agree. Jean and Marianne also passed them, but they were more jumping around then actually dancing. The two littlest Dassins had long since disappeared among their friends and Mme. Dassin was discussing something with another local matron. Elena was not with her. He supposed some other acquaintance had asked her to dance and she was somewhere in the crowd around them. An acquaintance? Or did Elena have a beau? She had never mentioned anything of the kind, but he supposed that it was quite probable. Elena was a beautiful young woman and more than one gentleman had been looking her way since they arrived. It made him oddly agitated. He put it down to a dislike of being watched and his own inexperience with large parties. After trying to make himself inconspicuous for so many months, it felt strange to be in such lively society.

Blanche gave a small yelp as he stepped on her toe and he brought himself back into the moment. He smiled and twirled her. She laughed with breathless elation and rejoined their hands, stepping expertly to the music.

The dance came to an end and Gleb clapped along with the others, trying to catch his breath. He had yet to completely recover his fitness, despite the more physical work he now did around the inn. Three months of almost complete bed-rest had taken their toll and he was now unceremoniously puffing after one, albeit lively, dance.

As the next song began, Gleb was swept off by one of Blanche's friends, then another and another. After the fourth, he tried to make his excuses and head back to the Dassins in the hope of dancing with Elena and maybe even Mme. Dassin, but Blanche attached herself to his arm and he felt it would be rude to leave her party, despite his growing irritation. He could tell that several of them were somewhat tipsy and their conversation was getting increasingly grating. He sighed quietly and glanced out, finally catching sight of Elena. She was dancing with Clément, Doctor Dubois' youngest son, a lanky boy of about fifteen. She seemed to be enjoying herself, the firelight shimmering in the swishing fabric of her dress. Elena was not a wonderful dancer, but what she lacked in technique, she made up with her energy and a kind of innate grace that made watching her a pleasure. She smiled at something that her gangly partner said and then they were both lost to Gleb's view. He sighed again and turned back to the conversation in time for Blanche to drag him into the next dance.

For her part, Elena was partaking of the festivities with slightly less enthusiasm then it seemed. On the outside, she was lively as ever, dancing with almost anyone who asked and keeping up her end of conversations, but inside she was hurt and…oh very well she was jealous. All Blanche had to do was bat her eyes in Gleb's direction and off he went. Every time she had seen him since, he was either dancing with Blanche and her friends or laughing and talking with them. Of course he had every right to dance or talk with anyone he liked. It was just the fact it was Blanche. She had always been so beautiful, so much better in school, so much better at everything, and had got all the attention. She had so many friends, and the lot of them used to make fun of Elena's height or her hair or her grades or her something and she had been too small to do anything about it. She was still small and averagely pretty, perhaps, but not beautiful. She had never considered herself beautiful. Obviously this assessment was true if tonight's events were any indication. Gleb seemed far happier to be with Blanche than with her. She knew that if she cared about him, she would let him be with whomever he wanted, and that she should be happy for Blanche, not jealous of her. Still, it hurt. Elena felt tears pricking her eyes and quickly excused herself from her partner under the pretext of getting a drink.

Thankfully, the table that held the drinks was deserted and she filled a cup with trembling hands. The water felt good on her dry throat, but it didn't help her swirling thoughts. She took a deep breath and felt two tears slide down her face which she quickly wiped away. Inwardly, she scolded herself: Come on, Elena, act like an adult. You can't cry at a party! For pity's sake get a hold of yourself!

"Eleeeena, are you sure you won't dance?"

Elena set her teeth when she heard the drawling (and somewhat slurred) voice behind her.

"Monsieur Baurel, for the last time, I will not dance with you! When I say no, I mean no!" her sharply spoken words had no effect on the young man who moved closer, leaning against the edge of the refreshment table.

"But it'd be so nice."

"Maxime, no. What in that word do you not understand?"

He sagged even closer, invading her personal space. She backed up, annoyed and disgusted. Then he reached forward and grabbed her chin, making a move as if to kiss her. Elena slapped him across the face. Hard. Elena may have been small, but she was very, very strong as a result of the kneading and other heavy work that was part of running the inn. With the hurt, anger, and disgust she was feeling behind her arm, it was even more effectual. Maxime Baurel was knocked full-length onto the table, knocking over the mostly full water barrel that was there. Elena gave a breathless ah! as the ice-cold water splashed all over her, drenching the entire front of her dress.

"Oh, for crying out loud!"

Her dress was probably ruined.

"Is everything alright?"

Elena whirled around at the sound of Gleb's voice. He was frowning concernedly, and the frown deepened when he saw it was her and that she was dripping wet.

"What…?" Gleb trailed off as he saw the sprawled Maxime who was now trying to right himself.

Elena drew herself up, shaking the water from her hands with a sharp flick.

"This... this drunken idiot just tried to kiss me!"

Gleb's expression went from consternation to cold, deadly fury in less than a second. He took two deceptively quick steps to the table, grabbed the unfortunate Maxime by the front of his shirt, and dragged him upright until his feet were dangling in the air.

"He. Did. What?" each word was hissed through clenched teeth.

He drew back his free hand, fist tightening.

"Gleb, don't!" Elena gasped.

She was angry, furious even, but she had feeling that it was well within Gleb's ability to do some serious damage to Maxime's face and that would simply get them all in trouble. Gleb looked back at her, seeing her expression and understanding its meaning. He paused, and then with a sharp huff he dropped both Maxime and his fist. The boy crumpled and slunk away as fast as possible. Gleb stood tensed for a moment, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Then he took a deep breath and turned back to Elena, concern once more at the forefront.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine, just wet. Very, very wet." She gave a shaky smile then shivered as she realized how cold she was.

Gleb looked visibly relieved, but he didn't smile. Without a word, he took off his coat and draped it around her shoulders. It was warm from him wearing it and she pulled it tighter around herself.

"Come stand near the fire until I can find you a blanket."

Gleb laid a hand on her shoulder, as if to guide her back to the fire, but Elena shook her head.

"If anyone sees me like this, it'll be the talk of the town for weeks. I'll just walk home by myself. I don't want to keep you away from the party, Gleb."

Gleb scoffed.

"You are not walking home alone in the dark; especially not after what just happened. Let me go tell your mother where we'll be. Don't worry; I won't give too many particulars."

Elena was too grateful to argue and Gleb disappeared into the crowd. When he returned a few minutes later Elena was shivering, though she tried to calm the tremors when she saw him. They started back along the main road, keeping away from the groups of people ranged around. As soon as they were outside the town and working their way towards the inn, Gleb put his arm around her shaking shoulders, rubbing his hand up and down to warm her.

"You're so cold. That little…"

"Gleb."

Gleb huffed and she could feel him shake his head.

"If he ever does that again, he'll regret it."

"I imagine he already is. He's even wetter than I am and he'll have to explain it to everybody"

She chuckled then shivered again and his arm tightened around her shoulders. It made her feel inexpressibly safe. No one would ever bother her when Gleb was around. She gave an involuntary sigh. He was matching his steps to her shorter ones so that she could walk comfortably. He was so thoughtful, so kind to her. She just wished… No. She should be content to have him as a friend. After almost losing him, it should be enough. But it wasn't.

They reached the inn without incident, and Elena went up to her room to change her soaked clothing for something dry. Gleb busied himself around the kitchen, shutting the inn up for the night. He figured that he might as well since he was there. That way, Mme. Dassin wouldn't have to worry about it when she got home. He knew that all the outside chores had been taken care of before they left, so there was nothing that needed to be done outdoors. He checked the clock. It was late, nearly eleven. In a fit of inspiration, he stirred up the coals of the stove and filled the kettle. When it boiled, he found the container of Elena's favorite tea and brewed her a cup.

"That smells heavenly."

Gleb turned and saw Elena on the stair landing, a shawl draped around her shoulders and a pair of thick socks on her feet. Her cold, wet dress had been replaced with a dry and much warmer one. Her face lit up when she saw the tea and she hurried down the last few steps.

"Gleb you're an angel!"

He only smiled and handed her the warm mug, stepping away from the stove. She crowded up to its warmth gratefully, holding out her chilled hands. There was silence in the kitchen aside from the quiet popping of the fire in the stove.

"Thanks for helping me back there."

Gleb smiled and then scowled, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I wish you'd have let me deal with him."

"Gleb the last thing we need is you getting arrested. It would be pretty hard to explain your…past and everything relating to it. There is even a danger they might send back for personal records which would obviously be a serious problem."

Gleb nodded, acknowledging the truth of her words. He looked down at the floor and scuffed his foot.

"He deserves it."

"You and I both deserve worse than we've been given."

Gleb scoffed, half serious, half joking.

"Me? Definitely. But I have a hard time believing that of you."

Elena merely smiled and looked down at her hands. She took a sip of tea and hummed appreciatively.

"This is delicious! I may be a coffee expert, you are a tea master."

Gleb smiled.

"I owe it after not dancing with you, Lena. I'm so sorry about that. Your friend there was quite…attentive."

"Blanche is not my friend."

Gleb's eyebrows rose slightly at her chilly tone.

"My apologies. She is not quite of your crowd I take it?"

Elena shrugged and flashed him a smile that was almost a wince.

"One might say so."

Gleb nodded reflectively.

"Well then allow me to correct my offence. Will you dance with me, despite my woeful incompetence in the art?"

Elena looked up at him with playful skepticism.

"Here in the kitchen, my gallant sir?"

Gleb bowed exaggeratedly and held out his hand, smiling. Elena set down her tea and curtsied, placing her hand in his outstretched one. He stood up, twirling her around until she faced him again, pulling her closer, and beginning one of the dance steps that he had picked up during the course of the evening. Or thought he had.

"Move your right foot forward before you move the left one. Then you won't have to hop like that."

Gleb chuckled, trying and failing to take her advice.

"Move my right foot forward…"

"No, no. Like this."

Elena stepped back and demonstrated the step.

"See? Then as I step forward, you twirl me, then we step together like so."

She resumed her position opposite him.

"Now, step."

Gleb did step, with comical force, but the wrong foot. Elena was the one who hopped (to avoid losing a toe) and Gleb's foot tingled from its abrupt impact with the floor. They both started giggling, further fumbling their attempt at the dance step.

"No, no, left first…no, I mean rightthen comes…Ahhhhhh! You great blundering baby, you're messing me up! Now you're doing it inside-out, for pity's sake!"

"I'm sorry, Lena, I just can't dance!"

"Just, step!"

"I am!"

"But in all the wrong places!"

"Oh, bother it all! Let's just do the one dance I do know!"

Gleb pulled Elena to a halt. Then, before she could question what he was doing, he began a very vigorous Viennese waltz around the moonlit kitchen. Around and around they went, narrowly avoiding disastrous collisions with kitchen equipment, twirling at dangerous speeds, and laughing until they were weak and breathless. Despite Gleb's claiming he couldn't dance, his waltz was actually quite good. Elena might have been impressed, but she was having too much fun to care.

Gleb twirled her out until both their arms were extended. Elena pivoted and spun back inwards. In the spirit of the moment, she spun a little too fast and collided against Gleb's chest, driving the breath out of him. She gasped at the shock and steadied herself against him, looking up. The laughter on her face died in a quiet gulp as she realized how close he was. At this distance, she could see every little detail of his face, illuminated by the filtered moonlight from the window. He was panting with a smile on his lips, his dark eyes full of laughter and a strange intensity that caused her heart to lurch. His breath brushed her face. She swallowed.

Gleb expression grew serious and he drew closer almost unconsciously, his eyes searching her face. Elena's breath stuttered. She hastily stepped away and Gleb's hands dropped from her arms. She tried not to notice how he'd slightly stumbled at her sudden move, making a pretense of readjusting her shawl. It had slipped down as they danced.

"I-I should go to bed; it's late."

With a single swift glance in his direction, she turned and practically fled up the stairs.

xxxx

Elena's footsteps receded quickly, followed by the quite thud of her door being closed. Gleb stood motionless in the kitchen, his arms feeling suddenly empty. He gave a quiet sigh and walked to the window. The moon was bathing the garden, casting shadows from the herbs and late-season vegetables. Gleb barely noticed the beautiful scene. Something was stirring in his chest, almost too vague to be called a feeling. He recognized it all the same. It was something that hadn't been there for a long time; not since he'd met Anya. Except this wasn't about Anya anymore. Someone else had taken that place and had done so without his having the smallest idea she was doing it. Gleb glanced over to where Elena had left her unfinished cup of tea and ran a hand over his face.

"Otleechno," he groaned quietly.

He was doomed.


Here it is, ya'll! A 5.5K beast. Poll in the comments: In the future, would you rather I split big chapters into pieces, or leave them big? Let me know. I have to say that I'm really proud of this chapter (even though I've stared at it so long I can practically recite it) and it marks a big turning point in the story. Gleb and his tea! There were actually three other references: one from Anastasia, one from Mulan, and one from An American in Paris. Let me know if you spot them! ;) Thanks for bearing with me though the ups and downs of my writing/posting. I really appreciate it :) Love ya'll! Cheers!

Translation:

Parfait! Merci beaucoup, Mama – Perfect ! Thanks a million, Mama

Tout pour toi, ma petite – Everything for you, my darling

Otleechno! (transliteration of the Russan "oтлично") – Great!

Feel free to connect with me on Tumblr awheeler27! My current obsession over there is Star Wars and Star Wars: the Clone Wars (plus a bit of the Mandalorian)