Well, I dunno if I'd go that far. But you're at least a jumbo jack.
[She laughs, easy and light, impish with a wicked glint to her blue eyes for a moment as they keep dancing. For all that she might be interested in him, and progressively less coy about it, the way that she looks at him is more appreciation than adoration. She thinks she knows what she's getting into, or at least thinks that if she's wrong that it's something they can work out, if he's interested, or could be. So far it's been surprisingly easy to talk to him and that makes it easier.
Instead of being offended at the insinuation, he just runs with it, and that just makes her smile warmer.] Barsuk.
[She says it in Russian, and then tilts her head thoughtfully when the sound of it isn't quite right, not for a nickname anyway. She still moves with him, that sway of her hips, moving with him. She's still not quite over the compliments, the way that he says he likes her dress on her, and it's just nice, things she's not used to hearing. But while it might have her back on her heels a bit, having a bit of trouble with correct retorts, she doesn't back down or pull away.
She just lets it be what it is. She's blushing and they're dancing, and there are people around but it's fine. There's maybe a little bit of a hum to her fingers; not a shock, but like standing too close to powerlines, just that faint hum of what could be.] Barochka? Baryusha.
[She grins, then, having clearly decided on what she wanted. Congrats, Rumlow, now you have a Russian nickname. It will never die, just potentially get more and more cutesy, depending on the occasion. The curl of her lips says it might be turn about for making her blush, but maybe it's just because Russian's always been a comfort for Ava, and Brock doesn't exactly roll off the tongue.]
That's not why I worry. It's easier to find a place here when you know people that will back you up, that's all.
no subject
[She laughs, easy and light, impish with a wicked glint to her blue eyes for a moment as they keep dancing. For all that she might be interested in him, and progressively less coy about it, the way that she looks at him is more appreciation than adoration. She thinks she knows what she's getting into, or at least thinks that if she's wrong that it's something they can work out, if he's interested, or could be. So far it's been surprisingly easy to talk to him and that makes it easier.
Instead of being offended at the insinuation, he just runs with it, and that just makes her smile warmer.] Barsuk.
[She says it in Russian, and then tilts her head thoughtfully when the sound of it isn't quite right, not for a nickname anyway. She still moves with him, that sway of her hips, moving with him. She's still not quite over the compliments, the way that he says he likes her dress on her, and it's just nice, things she's not used to hearing. But while it might have her back on her heels a bit, having a bit of trouble with correct retorts, she doesn't back down or pull away.
She just lets it be what it is. She's blushing and they're dancing, and there are people around but it's fine. There's maybe a little bit of a hum to her fingers; not a shock, but like standing too close to powerlines, just that faint hum of what could be.] Barochka? Baryusha.
[She grins, then, having clearly decided on what she wanted. Congrats, Rumlow, now you have a Russian nickname. It will never die, just potentially get more and more cutesy, depending on the occasion. The curl of her lips says it might be turn about for making her blush, but maybe it's just because Russian's always been a comfort for Ava, and Brock doesn't exactly roll off the tongue.]
That's not why I worry. It's easier to find a place here when you know people that will back you up, that's all.