He approached the mirror and studied his appearance. He looked strange to his own eyes, but compared to the other men of this modern age, he supposed he looked suitable.
A soft musical chime echoed in the air. Was that the bell that Tasha had mentioned would ring? He went to the door and cautiously opened it. A young man pushing a cart covered with trays smiled at him. He spoke and Vasili listened, even though he didn’t understand the words. Vasili nodded to indicate that the man should come inside. He rolled the cart in and laid out a tray on the bed with two plates covered in domes made of silver.
“Thank you,” Vasili said in Russian, hoping the man would understand.
“Ah, you’re Russian?” he asked Vasili in a rough Russian accent.
Vasili smiled in open relief. “Yes.”
“Welcome to Swit
