"You guys stink." Marcos appraised. "Why don't you two clean up while I fix dinner? There's a pair of showers down that way. You can toss your clothes in the washer at the end of the hall."

The shower was set up like a resort - high-end French bath products, plush towels and soft cotton robes. Julian checked the mirror and barely recognized himself beneath the dirt and bruises. He hadn't realized how much mud he'd caked on slogging through the rainy fields.

He shaved off two days of stubble, scrubbed the grime from his body, then spent ten minutes soaking up the stinging hot water. He turned the water off reluctantly, dried himself, and donned one of the luxurious robes. The Julian in the mirror looked more like the one he remembered. Plus a couple bruises of course.

He dropped his clothes in the washer and headed to the kitchen, stomach rumbling.

Marcos had set out plates and utensils, and was sitting on a stool at the kitchen island with a bottle of brown liquor.

"Rendezvous Rye. Don't make this stuff any more. Not after the Mormon's kicked everybody out of Utah. I may be paying through the nose for this place, but I can't argue with the amenities."

Marcos poured two fingers into a short glass and set it on the counter next to him. "Dinner's warming up, why don't you have a seat."

Julian took the other stool and sniffed the glass. It smelled like a boozy pie, all baking spice and pear. He took a sip and sputtered.

"They bottle it a little hot," Marcos acknowledged, "give your mouth a minute to adjust."

The two men sat in silence sipping whiskey appreciatively.

A short while later Nadeja emerged from her shower, looking every bit a starlet. Luminous blonde hair set off her icy blue eyes and the belted robe accentuated her figure.

"You cleaned up alright," Marcos commented, then turned back to his whiskey.

Julian caught himself staring and blushed. "Can I get you a drink? We have whiskey."

Nadeja glanced at the bottle, then did a double take. "Who'd you have to kill to get that?"

Julian winced.

"Poor choice of words," Nadeja apologized. "My dad was a bit of a collector and I learned a little. That's not a bottle you buy off the shelf." She poured herself a glass and sat down at the head of the table, savoring the aroma.

A bell chimed in the kitchen. "That'd be dinner," Marcos announced. He went to retrieve something from the oven. Julian took a seat next to Nadeja.

"Keep your expectations low," Marcos warned, "everything here is boxed or canned."

Julian focused on the food, his first real meal in days. Canned vegetables and rice never smelled so good.

Marcos talked to Nadeja between forkfuls. "You showed up with a phone worth a year of lodging, you carry yourself like a celebrity, and you know rare whiskey. You don't strike me as the average down-on-her-luck urban camper."

Nadeja bowed. "You're right, I'm a student. Ethnography. Your son found me working on my thesis project. I'm researching the emerging cultures of displacement; how people learn to cope with their own obsolescence. Looks like I'll be starting over though."

"So what, you live among the poor and hopeless, write a paper, go back to being a socialite?"

"Pretty much. It's been a winning formula for decades. Us aristocrats need something to fill our time."

Marcos nodded. "Plausible. What do you think Julian, she bullshitting us?"

Julian coughed. "No, I uh," he was having a harder time with words after Nadeja's transformation, "I don't think so."

Nadeja smiled. They finished eating in silence.

"Well kids, I'm beat. There's two bedrooms and a foldout couch. I'm taking the primary, you can fight over the other." Marcos stood and took the empty plates to the kitchen, then left the room.

Nadeja grabbed the whiskey bottle off the island. "Let's move to the couch, this chair is killing me."

Julian carried their glasses over to the coffee table and Nadeja topped them up.

"Na Ex!" she proclaimed, and drained her glass. Julian stifled a grimace and followed suit, throat burning from the fiery liquid.

Nadeja refilled the glasses once more. "So tell me Carson," she said with a conspiratorial wink, "how did you end up on the streets?"

Julian shook his head. "My apologies. I thought it'd be safer for both of us if you didn't know my name. Marcos already gave you the gist of it, I was kidnapped and got away."

"And you killed a man," she added somberly.

"And I killed a man. He was a bad man, a real psycho actually. I only did what I had to, but... it still feels wrong.

"My dad's a born soldier, but that was never part of my life - my parents separated when I was young. Mom had full custody, Marcos was just a phantom that showed up once every few years. He wasn't exactly a man I looked up to, you know?"

Nadeja nodded. "I misjudged you Julian. I don't like that you lied to me, but in your shoes I might have done the same."

"Let's not find out," Julian said with a weak smile.

"I'll cheers to that." Nadeja raised her glass and they both took another sip.

"So what do you actually do, when you're not being abducted by paramilitary goons?" She asked.

"I'm a student like you." Julian answered. "Getting my master's in polisci at the London School of Economics. Or at least I was." He paused, looking down. "London doesn't exist any more. Same goes for my flat, my girlfriend, all my mates..." Julian trailed off. A few tears leaked slipped out from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, it's the booze," he mumbled, "I haven't had a chance to process, with all the craziness."

Nadeja nodded, eyes wide with understanding. She put her hand on his knee. "My mom was in Moscow on the day of the strike. She was my only family left. I haven't heard from her since–" Her eyes misted over. "We've both lost people Julian. It's okay to grieve."

Julian covered her hand with his. Their eyes locked and more tears streaked down their cheeks. Nadeja gave a reassuring smile, Julian returned it. It felt good to let it out, to commiserate. All that pent up emotion, so much pain and loss.

Nadeja shifted closer and put her arms around him. Julian hugged back; her hair smelled of sandalwood and musk. They held each other until the tears stopped.

Julian became acutely aware of the heat radiating out from Nadeja's thin robe, her warm body pressed against his. His pulse quickened. He blushed and released her, opening up some space between them.

Nadeja looked up at him, confused. She leaned in and kissed him tentatively once, then again more forcefully. Julian kissed back, drinking her in. There was a raw energy in the embrace Julian had never felt before, the thrill of being alive against all odds. They came up for air, gasping.

"Want to check out that bedroom?" Julian asked, desire plain on his face.

Nadeja smiled broadly. "Yes." She took his hand and pulled him to the door.

* * *

Julian opened his eyes to a cascade of hair trailing down Nadeja's back. He smiled, then frowned; someone was pounding on the door.

He rolled over and answered the banging. "What?" He called groggily.

Nadeja stirred at his voice. "Julian, what's going on?"

"Get up. It's time to go," Marcos shouted through the door.

Julian pulled on his robe and cracked the door. "What gives? I thought we were laying low."

"I thought so too." Marcos shoved clothes in through the gap. "Get dressed and get moving. We've got unwelcome guests."