new challengers.
Indeed, her visage exemplified a classic case of Daddy’s girl: same eyes, same nose, same hair. An overall Japanese appearance. But it’d been her late mother’s blood to grace her veins, to unbind Yuri from most ethnic traditions. Greeting ‘etiquette’ included — but such cordiality from another was always appreciated. The baritone hadn’t hailed from too dangerous of a distance, and by a pivot of her heel, distinguishable charisma greeted chestnut hues.
"Tall, blonde, and handsome? I may be a celebrity and all, but it’s kinda unfair that you know more about me than I do you. Unless—"
And for the first time that evening, a ray of a smirk tempted glossed lips. Playing the fool was easy enough. Despite any front of hers, however, Yuri was the type to scrutinize Sunday papers like a student cramming through exam material. Surprisingly enough. Coupon savings aside, a girl had to stay informed.
"You’re that boxer, right? Misteeeer…— Fox? Let’s not sweat the formalities! I mean, you still haven’t answered my question.”
The man rubs the back of his head with an embarassed smile on his face. Steve always received compliments about his appearance, actually 'Angel Face' were one of the nicknames that were considered during his years at the ring, but just because he received a lot of praises, doesn't mean he knew how to take them, Steve is a pretty humble guy when it comes to anything other than his skills.
"That's me, Steve Fox."
"It has been quite a while since I wanted to meet you, Yuri Sakazaki, they say that you're a quite skilled martial artist, I've came here to see if this is true or just some wild rumor."
