"Worry not, Ms. Hill," Svetlana said after a brief and bright chuckle, "Gazprom would not expect such a thing of you."<br/><br/>The restaurant was an odd mix of upscale elegance and homestyle coziness; its edges were lined with squared tables while its central space was filled with circular ones, both covered by simple white tablecloths and fine, painstakingly prepped and polished silverwear and china.  Each squared table was placed beside a window that provided a view of the hotel grounds and Moscow beyond them.<br/><br/>"Not every negotiator from abroad is tied to something so vital as the upcoming deal between our two companies," she went on to note with a smile as she and Jennifer were dutifully led to their quiet table; the window just adjacent offered a tranquil view of the river that ran alongside the hotel.<br/><br/>"Seven years," she offered in reply to Jennifer's final question as she joined the American in sitting.  Not long afterwards, a server came by just long enough to fill both of their glasses with dark red wine before slipping away.  "And you, Ms. Hill?"