In the moments preceding the appearance of her young would-be protege, the Russian's calculating sage eyes traverse the neighborhood within which she had found herself, this particular locale a geographic morsel of the city that she had yet to offer more than a cursory glance. It would be worthwhile, she supposed, to acquire at least a passing familiarity with the youthful Were's dominion if they were truly meant to be spending any considerable amount of time with one another. It was admittedly quaint... but such an evaluation was surely expected from one such as the Grand Duchess.

The greeting she receives is every bit the pointedly-apathetic curtness that Anastasia had come to expect from this particular individual. The barest allusion of a simper tugs momentarily at the corner of her immaculately-painted lips, the woman quite certain that there were a fair few things that Alexander did not divulge to even his most trusted and valuable employees. Not even that mewling little strumpet of his. Even with matters as outwardly simplistic as this his had always been wont to play things rather close to the chest. After all, Anastasia had bled and bloomed beneath his proverbial wing for over a century and still she recognized the enigmatic coruscation of a thousand unspoken things in the etherreal blue of her Maker's eyes.

"No," she offers, sliding with practiced elegance into the leather embrace of the driver's seat. "No training today. I have more of a... treat in store for you." Whether or not the youthful woman might have realized it or not, this was an occasion that was quite momentous indeed. It could never had been claimed (nor would it, truely) that Anastasia's motivation in any given situation was wholly and completely pursuant to the personal gain promised from her efforts. Even as a mortal the young royal had never been prone to displays of philanthropy lest she stand to emerge wealthier in the stead of it all. It had, once, painted her as a promising political leviathan... and it had made her all the more successful as a Hunter. So the fact that the brooding auburn-haired woman might seek to appease the whims of another individual was, admittedly, quite extraordinary.

Anastasia eases the gleaming black sedan into the painted rails of a parking spot but a few minutes later, leading her youthful guest up the carved stone steps of the ornately-adorned front path of the museum without much in the way of explanation until the pair of women linger in the cool breeze of the open doors. "Alexander said that you enjoyed art, yes?"

Anastasia Romanova

Grand Duchess of Imperial Russia