Connections

[Nox]

Oriena was pissed, the ache in his wrist spoke to the quiet fury. Oriena cut down the conversation. He didn't let her mother answer so Nox didn't press the issue one way or the other. Superstition lay in real things -- for real reasons. Oriena knew who he was, what he was. His conversations would be limited.

Nox sat down as indicated across from her mother. He gave her a bright smile, though it was just the mask of the club he put on. Minus the glitz and glamour of the performance. Oriena got annoyed at him easily and he was trapped her now -- trapped because he had come at all and now he had to weather not only the storm outside but the one he'd created inside. He held out his hand. "I get that reaction a lot." There was something about being American that made things at odds in Russia -- in most of this side of the world actually. He could hide back home amongst the others -- here he stood out. His neutral accent was not nothing here -- it stood out.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion." He looked to the door. He could go. He could stay in the stair well. Hell, he could walk home just easily. Last thing he wanted was Oriena pissed. He'd come for connection, he'd come because he didn't want her to say no. And now look where he landed himself. But he could play the normal part -- be whatever Oriena expected him to be. He wasn't more than a friend -- they were barely that even.