OY, MOROZ, MOROZ

[Nikolai Russo]

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http://i57.photobucket.com/albums/g210/ ... bottom.png);background-position:bottom;background-repeat:no-repeat;"> Goodness, was she beautiful! At this point, Nikolai was well aware of how intoxicated he was, but not nearly how obnoxious or off par he was being or had to potential to reach. He was not a completely unpredictable drunk; the Russian did a lot of singing and making obnoxious offers, but as he had never really been interested in sex or had some sort of mad sex drive, that usually didn't fall into question. No, he was some sort of artist, like a rebellious hippie back from the past with something new driving within his chest instead of bright colors and flowers. He did drink as badly as them, though. Nikolai loved his wine. "Ya, you seeeeeng," he gurgled, grinning stupidly and letting her go. She was like a bird, in his eyes--something he couldn't hold onto, but he could capture her a short while and set her free. Everything became a little more artistic when he was smashed, somehow. It was like his inner conscience was flooding over with pastels and paints just ready for the spreading and creating. "Seeng; I vant to hear voice," he smiled, duel-colored eyes pleading with her. He decided she must've had a beautiful singing voice, since she seemed so inevitably gorgeous in his miscolored eyes.

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