He should have just walked past. Left someone else to help her. Hell he could have ignored how utterly down the woman looked. But much as he had the reputation of being an ass and more of a diva than most actresses of the age. Freddie Trumper couldn't let a woman sit and be this upset. Not to mention that Svetlana Sergievsky had every reason to be upset with how things were right then. Life was hard for her, she was still dealing with loosing her two little girls even if she had gotten them back again. And the Commie couldn't have been much help to her. Freddie was pretty sure the man had no idea how to show true emotion and he'd need to learn pretty damn quick if he was going to help Svetlana. If he was going to help his daughters. Freddie hated to let people see his weaknesses, but he'd done it. He'd let Florence Vassy into his heart again and hard as it had been. It was altogether worth it.
Anatoly didn't see that, he couldn't, which meant he was a fool, because emotion made you strong. If you focused it, if you took all that pain and all that hurt and focused it into something constructive, there was nothing you couldn't do.
Freddie knew he should probably think twice about talking to the woman. She wouldn't want to talk to him of all people and he was sure Florence wouldn't like it. But it hadn't been Freddie that had spent a year on a rebound crush gone too far. It hadn't been him canoodling with Svetlana in a Mountain Inn. No, Freddie and Svetlana could talk without any hint of repercussion. And so the Former Chess Champion grabbed the coffee he'd ordered and told them to hold the one for Florence till he was leaving and moved quickly across the cafe to the Russian woman.
"This seat taken?" he asked simply, giving her a look that asked more about how she was than anything to do with the seat. If she wanted to talk, if she wanted to open up. It was her move.