There was a snake in the garden this morning - Sparta and Nana were barking at it, waking Alex from having fallen asleep (finally) on the sofa. Black and red banded, she curled around his fingers and wrist as he rescued her from the danger of death by obnoxious noise. Alexander had been dreaming fitfully, in snatches of shadow and strange sound, plagued by images he couldn't quite make out. He was remembering something, that much he knew, but clarity eluded him.

His little snake now lays coiled around an empty water glass beneath his desk lamp, as if she'd been angling to get inside the house the whole time. Alex doesn't mind. She's comforting.

Snakes are good for babies, anyway.

So he thinks - it's instinctive, sleeping in his mother's bed until he was old enough that it would seem strange, surrounded by the low household fires and her host of serpents, warm scales and her skin and soft sheets, the sound of murmured prayers and smell of hot wine. Something just beyond his eyes (gods, the feeling still haunts him).

Alexander presses his hands against his closed eyes and exhales, righting himself for company. Now's not the time to lose himself in spiraling reflection.

There is no such thing as 'time off' in Alex's life, but every so often, even with the increased business, the stars align in such a way that he ends up with stretches of several days at a time with nothing immediately pressing to attend to. These breaths of air tend to be dedicated to managing his home or working with Nikolai or Dina, but their lives do not revolve around his, no matter what Alexander thinks of the universe at large.

It is fortuitous then, that he has plans for this lull in activity, though whether or not they'll come together has yet to be seen. He's sent his lure, disguised well as a friendly invitation ('I have free time, we're bored, come get me drunk already'), and now all there is to do is wait. The use of 'we' was carefully calculated and, yes, unfair; everyone is out but Alex and his pets, and he waits in the front yard (expansive, isolated, gated-in with a long winding driveway) tossing a tennis ball across the green lawn while Sparta brings it back, delighted in her sycophancy.

Ciudad Juárez is not a place most people think of when they say “vacation”, but Alexander is not most people; this is a working vacation, anyway, and despite the fact that not long ago he was forced to flee the country because of events that occurred in this very city, he finds the familiarity reassuring. No one's bothering him here anyway in the hotel Lucerna, down the street from the American consulate – a bold move, considering who he's here to meet, but he doesn't particularly care. He could go to Cancun, or even Rosarito, beautiful tiny resort town of his childhood, but here he's near his dear cousin and godchild, and that's more important.

The poolside patio is humming with quiet activity; a few people, one nuclear family, and an employee on a break every so often. Alex sits at a glass table underneath a decorative umbrella and waits, sipping a completely innocent lemonade and scrolling threw news feeds on his Blackberry.

Moscow has not exactly been a hub of forward thinking in anything for decades now, but the remnants of the Cold War still circle like snakes in a basin, and all the best military arms shows are held there, encased in steel and crumbling imperial spires. Oracle has been involved in military advancement since its inception, and while only private contractors have ever truly invested, they're still somewhat noteworthy in the general scene.

On a personal level, Alexander just likes seeing every angle in which his products - in this case, a variety of microchips - are performing. It helps, of course, that he has a myriad of other interests for being at an expo such as this. (He has a shopping list for his dear friends in South America to keep in mind, though he won't be doing anything so blatant as to approach anyone here.)

Dark suits and uniforms litter the main floor, dotted occasionally by shapely women paid to stand in fatigue-print costumes or black bikinis and brocade shoulder bangles. Alex himself hangs back, watching from a booth on the second floor of what was once a massive theater; his translator is here with him, along with Tina and another aide, but since he speaks Russian no one's doing much work, and he's taking notes for himself. Some new tank is being unveiled - it just looks refurbished, to him, but he's being polite and hearing out the pitch.

The hurricane known as Stelios is out - not that Alex 'needs a break', exactly, but he has work to do and the Nexus offers far more freedom and less timid company than lurking around his house. The dogs are fun, sure, but Dina has only so much patience in between scrambling for finals and Nikolai, while he can muddle through a conversation using modern Greek, is somewhat easily flustered. Personally, Alex thinks his young cousin could do with some good old fashioned flustering, but that surely gets boring after a while.

But the weather in California is beautiful, and so he's taken his work and a glass of pineapple and rum out on the balcony, sipping idly and going through paperwork and requisitions. A while ago he'd sent off a text message; he doesn't know when Jack will get it or when he'll make time to respond (if at all), but his thoughts stray to his friend every so often, particularly with the commotion of late.