"Gleb," Anya repeats her voice sounding stilted and foreign to her own ears as she hesitates for a moment to look at this woman before going inside the store. Slowing hard, she forces herself to continue. To ignore the heart-breaking lurch at the sound of his name from someone else. "I know him. And yes, I understand. I had only recently left Russia when I arrived here and I still miss it greatly."

It had been search of another home, for the family that she now can name. Paris had given her a gift and left her with pain as well. It feels like a lifetime ago, when she was straddling two very different lives. Nodding in understanding, she smiles faintly at the change of the woman's hair. "It is pretty up," she gestures to the style, ignoring her wayward reddish blonde waves. "Nice to meet you. I'm Anya."

The hesitation before she says her name is growing smaller every day. It is still there, but it is starting to feel like hers at last.