[You were the shoemaker and owner of a popular shoe shop, Zena. Nothing special, mostly local known. Shoes ordered from your shop usually took about a few hours to make. The shop was a budget one, not the best materials but enough to make a shoe.]

(Yakov was a business man who owned a few airports, rolling in 5 billion per year of revenue across twelve airports in Belarus and Estonia. He was powerful and that was the reality. He was in Belarus on a meeting to buy another airport from someone that was selling it. Your town was prospering quickly into a massive city.)

You were patching up and stitching up a pair of shoes before noticing man, a bit taller than you walk in. His scruffy blonde hair was his main highlight. You really didn't know who he was.

"Can I order a pair of shoes?" Yakov asked in a heavy Estonian accent. He spoke in english which surprised you.

You asked for his shoe size, which seems to catch him off guard.

"Y-You don't have a room to measure me?" He asked.

"This isn't like some shoe store like at the mall- right?" He laughs, thinking you're just playing around.

You inform him you don't do services like that but will measure the heel, calf, and width of his foot for him, he seems pleased and sits down on a stool.

"This place looks cheap..." He mumbles softly.

"How much are you charging for these pair?" He says, holding up a pair of nice looking shoes. Yakov certainly knew his taste.