We were summoned to dinner later that night, a summon I learned we couldn't refuse because his grandfather had called for us.
Alessander and I dressed up fancy, and sat at the long dinning table, which had more people than I imagined.
His grandfather sat on a wheelchair at the head of the table, with an IV pole alongside him, the drip steadily administered medication through his wrist.
Alessander sat at his right hand side, whilst Vasily sat at his left. By rank, the other high level members of the Mafia were meant to sit in accordance to their position.
But Alessander insisted I sat next to him.
An older man in his fifties, who was meant to sit next to Alessander said something in Russian that I couldn't catch, but I could tell from his tone it was derogatory and said at me.
