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Dimitri worries when the fruit vendor does a small double take when he and Anya stop at his stall.
The double take is replaced by a speculating look and Dimitri’s worry is validated when he quotes the price of his fruit at Anya’s request.
“Twenty francs each.”
Dimitri regards the apple Anya holds. He’s fairly certain twenty francs is at least double if not triple what the small, slightly bruised piece of fruit is worth. He guesses that the vendor’s earlier eye flicker had, in fact, represented a realization that Anya’s face was in fact quite similar to one floating around in the newspapers.
Anya and her grandmother had ultimately decided against making a public affair of the miraculous reappearance of the Princess Anastasia, partially in reaction to Rasputin’s attempt on Anya’s life and partially because Anya, after witnessing some of her grandmother’s interactions with members of the press, had decided she wasn’t particularly interested in living her life in the public eye. Their plans had been somewhat derailed when a handful of newspapers had somehow obtained a blurry photograph of Anya leaving the Dowager Empress’s house and published it alongside speculations that the mystery girl in the photo might in fact be the Grand Duchess Anastasia.
While the story hadn’t exploded, partially because the Dowager Empress had blatantly denied any suggestions that the young, red-headed girl seen leaving her residence was any sort of long lost relation, it still remained a source of joking gossip here and there and the fruit vendor was certainly not the first person to look twice at Anya since the picture showed up, or to subtly try to take advantage of her under the assumption that they might get lucky and get some extra money out of a hypothetically rich princess. (She was not. In addition to deciding against coming into the public eye, Anya had also decided against living off of her grandmother’s money. While the Dowager Empress had only accepted Anya’s proposed course of action after helping them with some of the first payments on a room in the city, Anya and Dimitri had both ultimately been able to find honest jobs that provided enough money for a decent standard of living.) However, this is certainly the most blatant attempt they’ve seen yet.
Dimitri steps forward and is ready to begin haggling for a fairer price when he notices Anya’s expression.
One eyebrow poised in a high arch, her mouth set in a disdainful frown, she is the epitome of disapproving disbelief. She looks up at the vendor, and then back down at the apple, rotating it slowly in her hand. “You’re telling me,” she says, again making eye contact with the vendor, “that this lumpy apple is worth twenty francs?”
The vendor frowns slightly, perhaps realizing he might have turned off a customer by quoting such an inflated price.
“Eighteen francs.”
Perhaps not. Or maybe he just figured, having already done the damage, he should stick to trying to sell the fruit for much more than it is worth.
But Anya knows how to play this game.
“Ha! I wouldn’t pay more than four if I were feeling generous.” Turning to Dimitri, she says, “Look at that spot! It’s downright unappetizing, that’s what it is.”
“I know. It’s probably got worms too,” Dimitri replies. “Truly, it’d be a crime to sell it for more than two francs.”
The vendor doesn’t quite give up hope, though he sounds less authoritative when he says, “Fifteen francs.”
Anya makes to put the apple back in the pile, “Really, I don’t even know why I wanted to buy such unappetizing fruit in the first place.”
Perhaps recognizing defeat, the vendor’s price suddenly drops to seven francs. Anya still somehow manages to buys four apples for five francs each.
*****
“That was impressive,” Dimitri tells her once their shopping is finished. Not only did she get the apples at a slightly reduced price, they also managed to get a decent cut of meat for fairly cheap for their dinner that night and bread enough for the week, a much better haul than he’d expected given the money they had. They had actually had enough remaining to have a quick drink at a small café. “I didn’t realize you knew how to haggle so well.”
“Hey now,” Anya counters, “Don’t mistake me for some delicate flower who can’t hold her own against pushy vendors who want to rip you off.”
As if he could. He’s not really sure why he didn’t expect her to know how to haggle in the first place. Perhaps he’d just gotten used to teaching her things during their trip to Paris, but pulling a con wasn’t quite the same a grocery shopping, as far as life skills to learn and teach went. Nonetheless, Dimitri can’t resist teasing her. Judging their table in a private enough corner of the café to avoid pesky eavesdropping, he says, “Well, you are a princess. So, really, it’s in your nature to be delicate. Comes with the job.”
Anya scowls at him. Luckily, their positions opposite each other at the table ensure that she can’t hit him. He is very subtle as he scoots his chair back a little bit just to be safe. “Firstly, I’m quite certain that as a princess I can be as indelicate as I want and that there’s no princess handbook stating otherwise–“
“Oh, but wait, you’re not technically a princess, you’re a Grand Duchess! The Grand Duchess Anastas-“
He cuts off from what he had intended to turn into a quip about some theoretical Grand Duchess handbook when Anya’s foot connects with his shin. Unfortunately, the table apparently does not create enough distance, nor did he scoot back far enough, to prevent her kicking him.
“And secondly, while it may be true that many princesses are lacking in street smarts, I spent the majority of my childhood in an orphanage, not a palace. I’m pretty sure I know how to handle myself.”
Dimitri is quite certain his shin is going to bruise. Rubbing it spitefully, he tells her, “Of course you do.”
Anya raises an eyebrow at his sarcastic tone.
Sighing in his defeat, Dimitri says, “You’re able to take care of yourself. You’re probably about as good at it as you are at kicking people under tables.”
Anya smiles at her victory and pulls out one of the apples they bought as a waitress comes to their table to take their order. Dimitri sighs inwardly when the she stares at Anya for a few seconds to long. Anya notices too, and gives the girl an expectant look.
“Uhm, you’re not –” the waitress stumbles over her sentence, “Well, I mean, it’s just that you look an awful lot like that mystery princess girl from the newspapers.”
Anya flashes the waitress a wide smile before she takes a big bite from the apple. Voice slightly muffled around her mouthful of fruit, she tells her, “Don’t think so. I’m pretty sure princesses are too dainty and well-mannered to talk with their mouths’ full.”
Shin still smarting, Dimitri glares at her.