Hank cleared his throat and went back to his forms. The visa questionnaire was in both Russian and English. The first line wanted, Surname, first name and patronymic.
To get the conversation going again, Hank said, "What does patronymic mean?"
Charity Moore looked up from her own business and said, less antagonism in her voice, "That's the name you inherited from your father."
"Of course, thanks." He went back to his forms. Under what type of work do you do, Hank wrote, Capitalist in a small sort of way. Auto Agency owner.
He took the forms back to the counter with his passport. Charity Moore was putting her tickets, suitcase labels and a sheaf of tour instructions into her pocketbook.
Hank said, "Look, we're going to be on a tour together, what do you say to a drink?"
She considered that, prettily, "Well ... well, of course. Why not?"
Hank said to the fright, "There wouldn't be a nice bar around would there?"
"Down the street three blocks and to your left is Dirty Dick's." She added scornfully, "All the tourists go there."
"Then we shouldn't make an exception," Hank said. "Miss Moore, my arm."