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Yuuri wiped the sweat off his brown after lowering his leg out of the stretch. ''Like what?'' He glanced down towards himself, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious about his work-out attire, and his flushed cheeks. ''I-I'm sorry?''

''No, I -- I was just curious. It's not often you see humans here.'' Jane threw an easy grin Reina's way. ''Where are you from, originally? You seem very at ease here.''

"thor?"

It was the only call to make.  

‘‘And what about yourself, lieutenant?’‘ She placed her helmet on top of her locker, nodding towards Wrex and Ashley as they walked past them. ‘‘What’s your weakness?’‘

   Three hours would pass before he'd return his gaze to the still fresh folder as he sat comfortably in the back of an unmarked car, rereading the details he had been given with some vague sense of boredom. His handler had been correct; it wasn't an exciting op, on paper at least, but he was hoping something would go array on the ride through. The C.I.A. had tracked themselves a fugitive, from U.S. soil, across the pond into England; where they had ran into M.I.6 only to be delayed briefly as the fugitive fled into the Ukraine and finally across the tundra that was Russia to settle in Moscow. Quite the trip for someone on the run, someone who was supposedly; a low threat fugitive. This sparked a few red lights for him, a fugitive on the run, crossing several thousand miles to reach what would be his final destination, Russia being quite the large country to get lost in, but to come to Moscow, it's capital. That was somewhat odd.     His ride would come to a somewhat abrupt halt, forcing his thoughts away as his attention turned to the sudden jolt of the car's faulty breaks.    "A little warning next time?"   Out of the car before his drive could utter a retort, Adrik would stretch his limbs as he climbed out, only for his outstretched limbs to fold back in upon his chest at the cold breeze settling in the air. The short blizzard of the night before had blanketed the streets, the buildings and even the people in a thick layer of snow, and while the harsh winds and storms brought upon by the blizzard had moved on, the cold chill still lingered. A thick puff of breath would escape from slender lips and he'd step away from the car, door shutting behind him, a brief pause would be made of course, contemplating whether or not to simply return to the warmth of his vehicle. Legs would carry him forward however, past the entrance of the large and dense city and into the many winding streets that Moscow had.    A small, unnamed and yet distinguishable pub sat atop a rather large and empty cellar, one that's only access was through an old, faded red door just yards away from the glass frames of the pubs entrance. A red bike with it's front wheel placed pointed rather oddly towards it, behind it's back tire was another red object; a crate with three empty bottles and an empty and crushed can. Those that passed by were oblivious to the meaning behind these details, but to someone holding a note that ever so kindly labeled the oddity before them understood that this door, was the intended rendezvous. So, when the door opened after a brief and layered knock, the Russian agent would find himself waiting for the second intended guest.