Oleg comes out of the town hall, along with one of his soldiers. He spots you, and nods your way. "Ah, hello. Are you ready for your interview?"
Adrasteia's got her butt parked on one of the benches, leaning back and casually sipping a Mai Tai.
Adrasteia, thusly, glances over with a grin. "Priv'yet, tovarich!" Another sip of her cocktail before comes to her feet. "And I figure it can't hurt, though I've gotta wonder what Russkies are doing wandering around here." She peers. "Though you're apparently not Russkies with Rockets, so there is that."
Oleg gestures for you to follow him to the town hall and he chuckles, "A ty govorish' po Russki?" he asks, "And perhaps we can answer some of your questions as well."
Oleg leads you into the meeting chamber, and his guard stays at the door. It's been set up like a barracks in here; cots along the walls, a couple of them occupied by sleeping folks. A desk is set up, and that's where Oleg goes. He sits behind it, and gestures across from him. "Have a seat."
Adrasteia, perhaps unlike many people being taken away for 'interviews' by armed individuals, seems entirely unperturbed by the process. There's a grin, the leopardess rumbling, "Oh, I've learned a bit, here and there. Gotta pick up a few useful tongues when you're traveling, you know." She looks around, shrugs, and then parks her backside in the offered chair, having another sip of her Mai Tai. "So, is this the prelude to the offer to throw me into the deepest dungeon cells you have to offer, or ship me to some sort of Siberian gulag? Because the gulag might be a nice break from the heat, you know."
Oleg chuckles and looks at your drink a moment, then reaches into his desk and pulls out a bottle of actual Russian vodka. He shakes it a little to offer to add it to your drink. You can take the bottle from him, or let him top you off, if you accept. It's high-octane, but really good stuff. "No, comrad, nothing like that. But if you'd like a ride to Siberia, I'm sure we can drop you off on the way home," he responds with a little smile.
Adrasteia's Mai Tai is... Pretty strong already. But she obligingly dips into her fannypack and picks out a pair of shotglasses before setting her cocktail down. "No, no, you need to do it right." She sets the glasses down, fills them, and picks one up with a grin. "Ty chto mumu yebyosh?" A moment to wait for you to pick yours up in turn, and she'll knock her drink back with the speed of someone who's entirely too practiced at taking snorts of vodka. "Oh, I'm sure I'll wander back there sooner or later; need to see how some of my friends are doing. I think they're trying to build a dacha out there, but you know how it is, when you're all alone in the wilds."
Oleg laughs softly, "Ura!" he says as he takes the vodka and tosses it back as well. The vodka is quite good. No real taste, but a subtle wheat-y or vanilla-y aftertaste with a hint of sweetness. It's also really, really high octane. He listens and nods, "Yes ..." He leaves the vodka on the desk, and pulls some papers over. "Ah, first, what is your full name, where is your home, what is your job, and how long have you been on teh island?"
Adrasteia flashes a grin and tucks those shotglasses back into her fannypack before she has another sip of her Mai Tai. "Ooh, am I filling out one of those internet dating profiles?" The feline cocks her head to the side slightly, just casually lazing in that chair you've offered as her tail sways about. "Let's see here... Adrasteia, and I'm from here and there. No real place in particular. And I like long walks on the beach, romantic nights by the campfir... Oh, right, right." There's a grin. "Sorry, I mean I'm a tourist - a professional tourist, mind you, not one of those amateur tourists who have to stop touristing the world - and I rowed up to the island last night on my way back from NorAm. Figured I'd stop by and see how things were going since I passed through on my way to Cancun, see."
Oleg blinks a little. Internet dating profile? That's clearly lost on him, but, he starts writing down what you tell him in very tidy Cyrillic cursive. If you're able to read it, you'll find it is an accurate recording of what you say. "Yes ... my men spotted your boat. However, unarmed attractive lady in a boat, while strange ... doesn't exactly raise alarms," he chuckles. "Professional tourist? How do you ... well, trade for food, clothing, and such?"
Adrasteia does take a casual glance at it, though whether she understands it or not is hard to tell. "Oh, you know, there's always knickknacks to trade, things like that. Plus, everyone likes gold, right?" She waves a hand lazily. "I mean, it's definitely not like the good old days, when you could just use a credit card, but gold's accepted in even more places than American Express, and that's telling you something!" She grins and has another sip of her Mai Tai. "And your men were utterly polite, of course. One of them even offered to hold the line while I was getting out of the boat to tie Boaty McBoatface to the pier." There's a nod at that. And, if her boat was to be searched... It's a rowboat. Has two oars in it, a coil of rope, and that's it. No food, no water, just... An empty rowboat.
Oleg chuckles, "Gold is always popular," he agrees. "You are well versed in your old-world history." He ahs. "As for your boat ... I ... understand you arrived in a rowboat. Were you dropped off from a larger ship?"
Adrasteia blinks. "No, I rowed over here from North America. Great exercise, you know?" The leopardess grins, then has another sip of her Mai Tai. "And is it old-world, though? I mean, if I was going for that, I'd probably be talking about wampum or something, maybe pieces of eight or dubloons. Though I think dubloons have gotten back into use around the Carolinas... You'd think that they'd get off their traditions, but then again... You still have people screaming about how the 'South shall rise again!' despite that being a few centuries ago. Ugh. People, you know. They're weird."
Oleg blinks, "You ...rowed ... two hundred some miles?" he asks. The tiger is clearly ... well, looking at your upper body to try and determine if it looks like you're the sort that could row that far. "That must have taken you a very long time, yes?" When you ramble on, he's mostly dumbfounded by it. He doesn't really feel like you're lying to him, but he's probably to the point where he may think you're an asylum escapee.
You say, "Two hundred? Hah, it was probably closer to two thousand, but hey, when you're on the boat, well, there's not much to do but, you know. Enjoy the sun and the salt spray!" She grins at you, then has another sip of her Mai Tai. It's a confident, reassuring sort of grin, full of life and energy. Not a sign of insanity to be found, really. "And it didn't take that long. I mean, I've waited in line for customer service longer than it took me to row from San Diego out to here. Even longer, really, when you realize that the customer service representatives had all taken off to become gibbering cannibal murder-gangsters running around the deserted wastelands of that shopping mall. Hah, biggest shopping mall west of the Mississippi, my tail."
Oleg is quiet for a bit as you go on. The evidence shows you did come over in a rowboat. He asks, "Can I see your hand a moment?" He will extend his hand across the desk, and if you'll allow, he'll take your hand and examine your palm to see if it looks like the palm of someone who's rowed a few hundred miles. If you don't allow him, well, we'll cross that option if you chose it!
Adrasteia blinks at you. But there's a shrug and then she turns her palm up, displaying it... While her free hand is gripping her Mai Tai glass and having a sip. The leopardess' palm is rough and calloused, but not excessively so. Strangely enough, those callouses seem to have more to do with handling pistol, rifle, and sword than oars, though there's enough wear marks on her palms that the scars from line-handling and rowing are there, too. In fact... She looks like she's got the callouses of a dozen professions and skills on her palm. As for the hand itself, well, it's oversized; it looks like it belongs on someone half again her size, and her wrist and forearm are probably thicker than most men's triceps. "Sure! I mean, are you one of those gypsy fortune-tellers? Going to tell me my future based on my palm or something?"
Oleg takes your paw in his, and then his other paw feels a couple fingertips over your palm. He seems impressed by the whole experience. "Your fortune tells me you aren't entirely making this up, though.... I have no idea what is going on in your head, but, I will assume you aren't entirely lying. So tell me...have you seen any interesting old world technol9gy in your travels?"
Adrasteia laughs. "Well, I guess it depends on what you mean by old world technology... I mean, are you talking about when it wasn't old-world technology yet, or are you talking about what's left of it today?" She grins, then pulls the polaroid camera off her neck. Flicks it open and takes a picture of you. Yes, that flash is bright. "I mean, this is still my favorite piece of historitech. Got it off a guy back in, oh, was it '09 or '79? Can't remember." No, she doesn't shake the polaroid, but it's the ancient, slightly off-in-color wet-developing square. Which she slides across the desk. "I mean, you find all sorts of interesting stuff when you travel, which is why I've got some neat photo albums. I mean, have you ever seen the sun rise over the earth while you're hanging off the solar panel spars of Mir Three?"
Oleg smiles, "What is left of it--" He is briefly stunned by the flash. But he looks at the square and marvels as it develops, "I have seen photographs before, but none like this that form as you watch.... Truly impressive, madam. Would you happen to have these photo albums available for me to see?" He actually looks pretty hopeful. "Have you got many friends in Russia?"
Adrasteia grins, flashing her teeth for a moment. "Oh, I've got friends all over the world. You know how it is; you travel around a bit, and then you've got friends. I mean, sure, some of them shoot at me, but I think that's just a really aggressive kinda greeting, you know?" And the leopardess obligingly pulls a photo album out of her fannypack. No, her fannypack isn't big enough to fit the coffeetable-book sized album. This one's labeled 'What I Did Last Summer,' and she obligingly opens it up. The first picture is... Her, in a Hawaiian shirt, doing a peace sign selfie. In space. There's a Mai Tai drifting next to her, while she's got one foot hooked up underneath the spar of a solar panel. No, there's no spacesuit involved. Just a leopardess in space, taking a selfie with Earth in the background. "So, that was kinda chilly, but hey, I think I got a great shot, you know?"
Oleg blinks! And leans in close to look. He tilts his head, trying to see wires or...or anything to suggest how this photo was actually taken. "What....did you find this in an old world museum? How did you even do this?!"
Adrasteia cocks her head to the side for a moment before she grins. "Oh, you know. There was this really awesome package tour up to the orbitals, so I figured, well, why not? It's been a while since I've bothered to go and take a look-see at what they're doing up there, so... That's what I was doing earlier this year. Pretty fun trip, even if everyone kept screaming at me to stay inside the cabin. I mean, what's the point of going to space if you're gonna stay in the cabin?" She clucks her tongue. "That'd be, like, entirely boring!"
Oleg just....stares at you. He closes the book and slides it back across to you. "I think I have taken up enough of your time, madame," he finally says. He is totally baffled, and thinks you are crazy, but you aren't a likely threat. "You are free to go, and may come and go as you wish."
Adrasteia grins at that, and then she tucks her photo album back into her fannypack before she takes another sip of her Mai Tai. "Aww, that's sweet of you, tovarisch Oleg. I promise I won't make too much trouble for your people; I mean, I am a tourist. Just here to see the sights, maybe do some recreational snorkeling, that sort of thing. Beaches, you know? You gotta take advantage of them." A moment's pause, and then she continues in academic-literate, Stalingrad-accented Russian, "[Besides, comrade. There isn't much you can really do to stop me, if I desire to come and go. Or perhaps come and come again, yes? It is the way of life, when one desires to see places.]" And then she comes to her feet with a lazy smile and a flick of her tail.
Oleg looks suspicious at what you say, but when you get up, he gets up as well. "Have a good evening, madame, and thank you for your time."