It was certainly stifling in this outfit. That redhead had told him it would fit the occasion, but it still felt highly stuffy for him. He was a big guy and he was lucky to have gotten this one fixed up to fit his bulk. Anatoliy fidgeted in the variation of the suit, finger pulling at the collar around his neck. Usually, the man went shirtless and only wore jeans or something of the sort. Shirts, with their sleeves, tended to get in the way and it was easier to save a tailor the hassle. But that redhead assured him that it was not an everyday kind of occasion and that the outfit was required. The passion with which the tailor - Lady-in-Waiting he insisted, the freak - had argued his case, made the Russo put his hands up and submit. That guy may have been smaller, but he sure was a strange kind of fierce.

Somehow that Strel guy managed to find a huge jacket for him and a black tie, which he refused to put on. There was no undershirt, because Anatoliy could not handle so much clothing on him in this weather. The jacket was almost over the edge of comfort for him, but Strel insisted enough that he could not refuse. Besides, the guy went to the trouble to tailor it a little bit. The Russo felt like a monkey, to be honest, dressed up with such a jacket and black pants, as though he were trying to be fancier. He was only going because his sister wanted to go and he could not let her go alone, even if his father was probably going to be in attendance. Maybe he could sneak in and hover in the background for a while, being the watchful brother until the party ended. Whenever that would be.

Hair pulled back, as usual, the Russo went ahead of his sister and father, careful to avoid sullying his outfit. He wanted to keep it nice, not that he was dressing up or anything. That tailor was going to simple grin at him in that cocky way when Anatoliy got there. What was the thing he had said? "You'll clean up nice"? Well, if the Russo had anything to say about it, yes, he did clean up nice.

People had already begun to arrive. At least he was not the first one there. He figured the leaders would be and the people that lived at the hotel, like he had once as well. Anatoliy fidgeted outside of the ballroom, fumbling with the collar once more. The two leaders were there and a few others, the tailor included, but still the Russo did not go in. He still hovered outside, wondering if he ought to face a potential crowd on his own or wait for the others. He might as well go in now and just blend in automatically. Slipping inside and a little bit down the side, Anatoliy glanced at the room, set up as it was for a party. It seemed there would be a band and music. Well that certainly reminded him of home. But maybe a little bit more formal than anything his family ever did. Golden eyes alighted on Strel and the group clustered over there. His eyes shifted to a pair away from them, pausing on the feminine figure in the dress.

Now, he had been right to consider Anann a woman before a fighter, but she certainly looked so much more like one in that dress, wherever she found it. Anatoliy debated going over there. Perhaps it was a bad idea, but he still went with it, heading towards her. Suddenly, he felt so awkward, in his stiffer pants and the long sleeved jacket. Maybe he should have accepted a shirt and tie. At least he was not the most under dressed here. "Evening, Anann," he greeted, coming up behind the woman. "Evening, Niro." He had an easy smile on his face, though he still wished he could fade back a bit, too close to the center of people for his liking.