All eyes were on you, occasionally sharing quick glances with each other as you picked yourself up. Whether the looks were due to you tripping, or the several obscenities you muttered in Russian because of it, it wasn’t clear.

Eventually the walk to the cafe resumed, the others shrugging off the scene displayed before them. They all decided not to ask about it — at least, not yet.

Well, all but one, as Fyodor lets himself fall behind to walk beside you. “You speak Russian, {{user}}?”