Rurik is wearing his good pair of pants and a tie, and Liliya is wearing this I guess (btw omg I am such FAIL at being a girl, LOL)
They were late. They were always late—Rurik had had to wait almost a whole hour for Liliya to finish getting ready after he had first alerted her to the time, and now they were late. He was sitting on the small couch in their living room, tapping his claws anxiously against the armrest, his blue-gray eyes rolling to the closed door of Liliya's bedroom every few moments, checking for motion or movement or... anything, really. He sighed softly. “Liliya,” he started, speaking loudly to the closed door. There was only a muffled reply, and the door flew open, with Liliya twirling around in her new dress. Rurik's jaw dropped; he had never seen his daughter look quite so pretty! Her hair was done up and held above her head, three or four tassels of thick cinnamon-brown hair flowing from the top of her skull, held out and above her neck. He smiled at her, and stood. “You look lovely,” the werewolf said, and he offered his arm to her.
“Zhank you,” she responded, speaking English as her father did. He wasn't so tough on her for speaking Russian anymore—not now that she'd at least been able to demonstrate to him that she was capable of speaking good English. Though she had thanked her father for his compliments, there was a certain air of discomfort about the cinnamon-furred woman. She was not used to dressing up or pulling her hair into different odd positions—these were skills she had learned from her mother, and these were skills that had rotted to near uselessness in the months she'd spent with her father now. Frowning, she tucked her arm into Rurik's, and they headed out the door, moving quickly. The sun was already quite low, and Liliya knew well enough they were about to be quite late in their arrival. “Sorry I make you late,” she said as they stole along the road toward the hotel.
Rurik clutched two bottles of his stash, one tucked under his arm and the other clutched in his free hand. He figured now was the occasion for it, of course. They entered the front of the hotel and headed back toward the ballroom, the murmurs of speech and guests alerting them immediately to the location of the party. “It vas verth zhe vait,” the Russian said, smiling as he squeezed Liliya on the shoulder reassuringly. “Here we are,” he said, holding the door open for her. She entered the room first, peering about anxiously, and Rurik followed right behind her, grinning broadly as he looked around at his packmates' various faces. He shifted one of the bottles to his free hand. “Allo, allo!” he called, always one to make a scene upon arrival. “I hope zhe party is not in full sweeng yet,” the werewolf added, holding up the bottles of liquor with both hands. Liliya remained at his side, smiling rather nervously and generally refusing to make eye contact with anyone else. She felt awkward and completely out of place, and she thought her dress was rather plain (and rather short) as compared to all of the other ladies' dresses. They were all so beautiful and colorful, and hers was... not.
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