he can speak French, in Russian... [OPEN]

[Forte!]

Nikolas had finally found a place in this forsaken country town where he actually belonged, and that was sitting at the bar in the dance club and making small talk with the girls. Everywhere was horses, horses, horses. Enough leather and ponies to make him literally shudder thinking about it. To be honest, he was even a little afraid of the things, and he certainly didn't want to hear about them 24/7. But here, at least, no one was talking about their latest piece of tack, and he could sip his vodka (which, as a Russian, he always drank straight) in peace and comparable serenity.

He wasn't unhappy about his decision to move back here. It was better than being back home, where people always wanted something from him and he wasn't supposed to expect anything in return, but... still... Why did he have to feel the need to catch up with his entire family? He swirled the stirring straw around in his glass rather glumly, looking at his own reflection in the mirror. He was attempting to look too cool to talk, which, it turned out, was a rather lonely way to be, and not in his nature at all. For a Russian, he was rather boisterous and outspoken, and he would throw his two-cents in even if nobody actually wanted them.

[Spitz]

A young woman walked in to the club. She had a light smile on her face as she walked over to the bar. She sat on one of the stools and managed to catch the barman's attention. "Smirnoff Ice" she said and handed him the money. The bottle was brought to her and she took a sip. She only came here because it was the only bar in town. She needed to unwind. She saw that there was a guy the other end of the bar. He was cute. She took her drink and stood. Elizabeth was her name. She came to this town to work and earn cash. Maybe she would own a stables but it was all going to happen in her own time. She walked elegantly. Each move had a purpose. She sat down on the stool next to Nikolas and smiled at him. "Hey! I love this song, don't you?" she said. Yeah, it was one of the most common things to say in a club but she didn't care. It was something to start talking. She was never great at starting the conversation That was probably one of her, very little, flaws.

She took another sip of her drink. Last time she was at a club she was in New York. That was a fun night out. It was her friends hen night so they had the best time. She doesn't remember the night that well. All she remebers is the headache the morning after. She would love a hen night, because it meant she was getting married. She would love to meet someone and settle down and maybe have a child. Knowing the saying this guy was probably unavailable. He was either gay or taken. She loved that saying, it was one of the most true saying ever. Then again, she was attractive too. Designer clothes, blonde curly hair. You could tell she had money by looking at her. The truth though is that her money was over. She had relied on her parents and since they were going bankrupt her money wouldn't last long. She would find a way to get rich again though, she couldn't live without her money. Money made the world go round. She needed money to live. You couldn't buy food without money, you couldn't turn on the tap without a water bill.

[Forte!]

Nikolas was still attempting to look mysterious, a feat which was difficult for him. He had not the stonewalled poker face of his brother, and wasn't a quiet person by nature. So, when Elizabeth sat next to him the ruse was broken, and he looked at her with one eyebrow raised as she spoke. She had to be a good four years younger than himself, and was, in fact, very pretty, more opulently dressed than he ever had been. Being fairly well off in a fourmer Communist country, it turned out, did not even equal 'fair' in America. He was wearing new clothes, yes, but he still didn't have that look that the near upper-class American does, except in his face. He shrugged at her question and tilted his hand, rolling his straw around the rim of the glass again. "Eh, I wasn't particularly impressed." His accent was strong, but his speech was fluent enough, having spoken English for actually a good portion of his life. He hadn't actually really been listening to the music, but that didn't matter, he knew he would have actually noticed it if it had been particularly good, and that the girl was just aiming for small talk.

He glanced at her drink for a moment. Still full. Oh well, that struck off a point of conversation. Normally he would have bought her a drink, but seeing as she didn't seem to be in need of one... "Nikolas Petrova. And what do I have the pleasure of calling a pretty little cherub like you?" he inquired, making it fully known that he did not, in any way, resent her advances. Contrary to her thoughts, he was neither single nor gay, although it was true that he was not particularly looking for a relationship. He never was, but these things just seemed to happen to him despite the fact. Nonetheless, the woman sitting across from him was a pretty little thing, and she seemed sane enough, too, which was always a good sign. He took a sip of vodka, and not a dainty little one, either. He was never 'dainty' about anything, really, although his etiquette, as Russians go, was fairly impeccable. Awaiting her answer, he returned again to playing with the little stirring straw, not at all useful for drinking or for stirring in this case, seeing as there was really nothing to mix.

[Spitz]

He looked at her with a eyebrow raised. That just got on her nerves. She had always wanted to be able to do that. Her brother could so he would always raise a eyebrow whenever he looked in her direction. She really didn't like her brother at times but he would always protect her. Even if he was the biggest womanizer in the whole of America. Elizabeth laughed at his reaction to the question. "Everyone has a different taste in music" she said and cocked her head to one side. "Russian?" she asked. Accents had always facinated her. It was weird how people from the same race could have a different accent just because they lived in a different country. Elizabeth took another sip of her drink. She had a feeling tonight would be a good night. That put a song in her head. She didn't dare hum or sing the song. She had been told her voice was amazing but she never believed people. She thought her voice was terrible when it was, in fact, pretty good but probably not proffesional standards. She would never sing though, so a lot of people never really found out about her voice.

Elizabeth thought about it. His name was Nikolas Petrova. he had heard that surname before. Her brother had told her about some guy with that surname. Apparently he had got beaten up by his boss who was now in prison. What was his name? Dmitri! "I am Elizabeth Knightly, and may I ask. Are you any relation to Dmitri? He lives in this town, my brother told me all about him when he got beaten up by his boss, Ivan" she said. That had been the talk-of-the-town for ages. It was amazing what actually happened in a small town. Everything was so close knit that you always knew what was going on. It was a good thing though. Elizabeth loved a town with good gossip. She also loved it when the gossip was about her. She loved to have attention and for people to actually know her name. Of course, she hated the bad rumours. Sometimes it was just horrible when people thought something about you that wasn't even true so you ended up being hated by everyone and they wouldn't believe you if you told them it was a lie and what really happened.

[Forte!]

"I suppose that's true," he said, leaning back a little to see her more clearly and twirling the barstool slightly left and right, bored out of his skull. This truly wasn't a very absorbing conversation, to say the least. He nodded at her question. "Yes. I've been speaking English for years, though, so it's no big deal." He really had been, too. Moscow was basically the only place in Russia, besides maybe St. Petersburg, where Americans actually wanted to go on vacation. He himself did not mirror her feelings about tonight, but he had never been terribly perceptive. While it was true that his brother was sensitive to things that he was not - the way the light fell or the way the air felt - Nikolas was more sensitive to the way things were then and now and how people looked, or felt. His eyes wandered around the room for a moment, before returning to her as she spoke again. Elizabeth Knightly. A nice name. Her second question caught him off guard, though, and for a moment he looked downcast. It seemed that Dmitri was coming up wherever he went. How ever had his introverted little brother become so well known around here?

"Pleased to meet you, Elizabeth Knightly," he said first, trying to hide his expression with mixed success. "and, yes, I am. He's my little brother - one of them, at least. He's most of the reason I'm here and a little of the reason I don't think I should be. But, hey." He shrugged, deciding to be honest for once. Besides, he didn't really want to be stuck talking to pretty girls about his brother. It wasn't as if, even if they did like Dmitri, they had a shot in a thousand at him anyway. "Anyhow, Miss Knightly, since you already seem to know so much about me, why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself?" He was just making small talk, really. Not really wanting anything, not really needing to know. He did care, though. He liked to know about people, and since he hadn't really met anyone in this little town except his brother's ... well, whatever she was, at least. He was a social sort of person, Nikolas. He liked to have contacts with a lot of people, and had learned that having friends really did get one far in life.