OY, MOROZ, MOROZ

[Nikolai Russo]

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http://i57.photobucket.com/albums/g210/ ... itable.png);background-position:bottom;background-repeat:no-repeat;"> Perhaps it had been the drunken stupor he'd fallen into, perhaps not, but in his duel-colored eyes she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Nikolai wanted to sweep her off her feet and to somewhere else a little more private, but of course, that was not his heart nor brain talking. She was a quirkly little creature, gray and white in color with eyes of a peculiar olive hue; it was obvious that she was swayed by his accent and dialect, and the concept of this sparked some immediate interest and plotting within his clever, drunken mind. She looked straight into his eyes all of a sudden and he was suddenly pulled off his feet in hers, like some sort of alcoholic love story that was quite possibly one-sided and most likely short-lived. The Russian grinned stupidly. "Bah, two colorrrs," he muttered, tongue lolling out of his mouth this way and that. "Eyes... оливкового. Booteefooool..." He broke into an erratic laughter, and took the hand he was still grasping and spun her around in a little circle like some sort of elegant [drunken] gentleman. "Not cold," he replied, still grinning like an [intoxicated] five-year-old. He quite enjoyed that lip ring of his, and could commonly be found playing around with it with his tongue when he was especially bored. Her voice tremored a little and he wondered if she was cold--it was too bad he didn't exactly wear a coat. Cold weather was no stranger to Nikolai, and no threat, either. "Like ringk. I givf you one, if vant? I yahm very good at piercingks." She introduced herself and he smiled, taking her hand and spinning her around again, though this time spinning her into him and grinning stupidly down at her. "Geneva... you are luffly, Gennnneva."

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