Aaaah. I am worse, apparently. :/ I am so sorry for the delay.
Rurik was not a fighter; he did not believe in violence unless it was pushed onto him first. He would not hesitate to protect his family and himself, if need be, but he was unskilled and untested in true combat. He did not enjoy spilling blood, and he derived no pleasure from inflicting pain on others, though he did not speak out against others that chose to do so. Rurik's philosophy was simple; he lived his life and he left everyone else the hell alone unless he was trying to be a friend, and he was always trying to be a friend. The silver-furred werewolf was a social creature, and he enjoyed the company of others. There were so many different types of canines and personalities to encounter—sure, Rurik didn't like all of the people he met, but he could cajole most of them to be civil with his charismatic ways.
His ears shot up in shock as he recognized the language she spoke, his bright eyes sharply regarding her, though his grizzled mouth split into a broad grin. "Aha! Русский язык?! Откуда Вы, товарищ?" Normally the Russian werewolf would have attributed some other nickname to the woman, something far girlier—Savina was printsyessa, Cambria was dyevooska, Lolita was chica. Finn, though he didn't like to think of her too often, was dorogaya. He still thought of her running off, and it still hurt him to think of her running off. He'd truly gotten to like her in the short time that he'd gotten to know her, and maybe they could have had something between them, maybe.
The Russo noticed the other wolf seemed to be rather cold and he frowned, his coal-dipped ears folding backwards as he peered over at her. "Вы вероятно сделали бы хороший, чтобы получить outta холод некоторое время, по крайней мере пока Вы не сушитесь. Хотели бы Вы строить огонь?" The transition to his home language was natural, flowing from the desire to speak it. He did not often get the opportunity to converse in the mother tongue with anyone other than his children, and it was a refreshing change of pace to hear that language spill from the lips of a beautiful—and clearly deadly—woman.
.rurik-angel {width:400px; background-color:#E1E3D8; border:1px solid #000000; background-image:url(http://sleepyglow.net/rp/rurik/rurik_angel.jpg); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; padding-top:10px; padding-bottom:286px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px; color:#000000; letter-spacing:.2px; word-spacing:1px; line-height:13px; text-align:justify;}
.rurik-angel b {color:#2A5784;}
.rurik-angel strong {color:#0A3966;}
.rurik-angel p {text-indent:40px; padding:0px 12px 0px 12px; margin:1px 0px 10px 0px; }
</style>
[/html]