“Let me know if you change your mind,” he said, warmly … and gave him an address he already knew. “Sonia can show you if you do not know the way.”

He did not notice the man’s discomfort – just the awfully nice congratulations on … something he had had nothing to do with the actual process of. Well. He supposed any man could make children – did it not count more who raised them? Zechariah was already thinking of names.

“You stole my homework and blackmailed the professor to pass it anyway,” he answered with a grin. “What did you have on him, anyway?”

His gaze wandered as he took another sip. Zechariah had a decent idea which one was Sonia: it was probably the pregnant, scarlet and gold blonde one who had been given the entire floor to dance with another man. They lived radically different lives. So had their his parents.

“Do you know her friend?” he asked, unfazed. “Does he work here, too?”

Coincidentally, he wondered where Darius was.

Menachem looked at the address and nodded, pretending to memorize it. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

He grinned a bit at the question and shrugged. "I don't think you really want to know. It's rather obscene and involves half of a Russian circus." He teased.

Menachem looked over and blinked a few times before shaking his head. "Sorry. No idea. But it's my first say. Maybe a business partner?"

Tony seemed a lot more … witty, and sophisticated, than Zechariah recalled him being.

He planted a finger against his cheek in thought, swirling his drink in his right hand.

“Russian goyim or Russian Jews?” he asked, then let out a huff of a life. “Definitely Russian goyim,” he decided a breath after.

His eyes went back to Sonia and the dashing gentleman with her. Business partner …? He shook his head.

“Not unless she secured it in the last week,” he said. “We just went over the paperwork.”

Menachem looked at him at the question and was about to come up with an answer when Zech beat him. He gave a nod and pointed to him, "That's right. Definitely if I recall."

He leaned forward a bit for a better view and looked at them then moved back. "Think she's bold enough to have someone on the side and dance with them like this? Or maybe it's just a friend that she uses for social situations. Maybe she doesn't want to announce the wedding yet?"

Was she ashamed of him and only marrying him because he knocked her up? It was so weird to consider, but it was the only thing that made sense.

“She is a woman of mystery,” Zechariah laughed, though his gaze was still on her.

A polite way of saying ‘I do not know jack shit about the woman I intend to marry’. Truly, could there be a better match?

Had she found a more desirable suitor? Was that the cold feet? Hm. Zechariah polished off his drink, fished out an overly generous amount, and set it on the counter for this classier ‘Tony’.

“Perhaps she did not like my fashionably late,” he said, then looked to Tony once more. “Thank you for the drink. If you need anything, anything at all – you know where to find me.”

Time to find out who this interloper was …

Menachem rose his brow and looked at the retreating figure of his brother and realized he should see about keeping the mask for when he would come upon him again. How long could he draw this out? His brother had never treated him so nicely, he was going to remember this.

"Good luck.." He called out as he left.