‘As you wish. How do you feel, love?’
‘Love?’ Vic smiled again.
‘You’re so…like me, asking about every word I tell.’ Kharon smiled, too. ‘I got you. At 6.30 near Barrykadnaya metro station. I bet I’ll guess the carriage you’re gonna be in.’
‘Try your best.’ Vic almost forgot about the accident at work.
The memories were destroyed with the pictures of Kharon’s face. His nice smile and gentle gaze conduced the girl’s sooner rehabilitation.
Vic heard the phone hang up, grinned and already looking forward to meeting.
At that time Kharon was walking along the city, revelling in the view of streets and beautiful women, persistently collecting all information about human behaviour. Ideally curiosity made him flirt with girls, using all conceivable and inconceivable tricks to see what would happen next. He was interested in reading their minds and he liked to listen to their voiced answers. He had fun.
“By accident” he stepped on some girl’s foot, stumbled and almost fell. She was about to attack the awkward man, say him many bad words. But Kharon started twittering in Spanish that he was so sorry to be so an awkward not to notice the girl while he had been seeing the sight of Bolshoy Theatre vault.
The girl immediately smiled, having forgotten about her dirty suede shoe. Kharon went on saying sorry in bad Russian. Of course, his foreign splendid accent, innocent eyes, beauty of his face played its role.
The next conclusion was drawn: Russian women weren’t so angry as they wanted to look like. Their mean faces very fast turned into bright smile with sincerity and they were already ready to help. Kharon saw it better than any other men. The sexual energy he had, charmed women when they were awakened.
To other couple, that had drawn the demon’s attention with its passionate kisses in the middle of Alexandrovsky Sad, Kharon said that he could predict everything. He turned into a blind old man, took the girl by the hand and whispered in a hoarse voice:
‘The wedding is on 10>th of October.’ Looking at nowhere, strongly holding her hand, the demon was reading her mind. ‘You’re waiting for the wedding. Everything is bought. He’s your fiancé. But he has a mistress already.’
The man got pale and contradicted, banishing the old man from his sight not to let him talk nonsense. The demon insidiously smiled, his eyes flashed which had nothing in common with old age and kept on telling some things that nobody could have known but the couple themselves.
Indeed, the tear-stained girl punched him with the thorn roses in the face, threw away the ring and ran home in tears.
‘You, freakish old grumbler…’ he hissed, clenching his fists.
‘You’re gonna be an impotent in a year, young man,’ the demon predicted in a sepulchral voice.
Having had fun with the passer-by Kharon went down in metro as crowded as a can with sprats. People went home, tried to smile, pretend they were fun and glad the day was over. By the way they didn’t forget to shout at others, having wolf-looks, hated them.
When the carriage was at Kuznetsky Most a great crowd invaded into and Kharon turned to be almost at the very corner. There was a nice-looking girl before him, and she looked at everything around with understanding in her eyes. Her shoes were stepped on, someone pushed her, but she thought that it was ok, none of those were on purpose.
