malchikswan - rnortify - leithleach
The manmade tool sat in the cafe, heavy rain outside. He was sipping on coffee, missing the days when his empire was at its prime. Not his empire, really -- more like a sanctuary. A longstanding place of communism, shining brightly in his war-torn eyes. The TV was playing something on chemical warfare, and he vaguely wondered why Russia hadn't turned him in as a chemical weapon for disposal once he was no longer of their use. Perhaps because he was a normal boy at one point, perhaps they planned to use him again. He glanced up from his hot chocolate and settled his gaze on the figure who sat before him. How did he get there? When? Getting lost in his thoughts was really dangerous. "Privet." The greeting was informal, but in his home language. He cleared his throat, trying to make sure his accent wasn't to heavy, but when he spoke, it was pretty thick. "You need something, dude?"
