the openest log to ever open! <3

[defies_reason]

When; Evening of April Fifth
Rating; probably varying by threads
Characters; EVERYONE IS WELCOME
Summary; Big ol' open log for the grand opening of Isaak's bar~ Feel free to come and socialize, even if you don't know the guy! Hooray!
Log;

Word has been spreading, in a quiet sort of way-- a tasteful poster here, an idle comment there, a few personal invitations (with varying degrees of detail) delivered by Isaak himself, and (of course) the polite request that others pass the word along. Simple, but (one hopes) effective.

The Wolf's Den is luxurious without being overly ostentatious; it's warmly lit and comfortable in spite of its newness, with comfortable leather seating and a well-stocked, under-lit bar. No detail has been overlooked-- and, perhaps, no expense spared-- from the hardwood floor to the ornately-tiled ceiling.

There's plenty of food and drink to go around, and as the evening gets underway, Isaak is contentedly mingling among his guests, socializing and keeping an eye on things in equal parts.

So, have a drink; make some new friends. Everyone is welcome, here.

Comments

[defies_reason]

Well, that's not uncommon; there's a lot of Isaak to size up, after all. He smiles politely.

"A bit of this and that," he agrees idly. "I'm pleased to hear you approve."

[majorcrotchgrab]

"Mmph?" He grunted in response, already shoveling the food into his mouth. "You're the owner?"

So much for not wanting to be rude. At least he covered his mouth partially when he spoke while it was full.

[defies_reason]

"Only that and not the chef, unfortunately."

It's a universal truth that free food is the easiest way to make friends. He's more amused than offended; but then, how could he be in anything but a good mood tonight?

[majorcrotchgrab]

After a large gulp, Raikov daintily patted his lips with a napkin.

"Still. This is a beautiful place. The atmosphere is perfect and the color choices... They go together quite well."

Soviet colors always made for a good combination.

[defies_reason]

"I quite like it myself," he muses. That wasn't quite his thinking in choosing them-- Isaak is decidedly a capitalist, these days, and it's not as if his family always toed the Party line-- but all in all it is rather a nice combination.

He offers a hand to shake. "Isaak."

[majorcrotchgrab]

Raikov took a hold of Isaak's hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Ivan Raidenovitch Raikov. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Isaak. You can expect to see more of me at this place in the future."

[defies_reason]

"Pleased to hear it, Ivan Raidenovitch," he murmurs, with a faint smile and a considering look. (By habit, he hasn't been giving his full name, but that's no reason to be impolite, after all.) He can always respect a firm handshake.

[majorcrotchgrab]

The fact that Isaak refired to him by his proper name made him raise an eyebrow. "You know Soviet customs...?"

[defies_reason]

He arches an eyebrow, mock-offended. "My accent can't be that good," he protests in Russian-- though it is, he's a good ear and he's practised and on American television it doesn't matter, all Europeans sound generically British. But the fluency of his Russian ought to speak for itself.

[majorcrotchgrab]

"I apologize. I wasn't sure," Raikov replied, also in Russian. But this was certainly interesting news. As far as he was aware, he and Chekov were the only ones from Russia here in the City. "So you're from the Motherland...?"

[defies_reason]

"From Ukraine. Kiev," he specifies. Isaak isn't given to homesickness, but he'll admit it's nice to chat with people from... well, somewhere approaching home, at least. He's been surprised at how many Russians he's run into, though the years have tended to be off by quite a bit.

[majorcrotchgrab]

"Close enough," he smiled. "So, what made you decide to open up a bar?"

[defies_reason]

"I couldn't find one I liked," he answers, which is at least halfway a joke. Though he looks so at ease here, it's clear his tastes are well-reflected in his establishment. "Besides, I'm in the habit of being in charge of my business; I wasn't eager to find a job delivering groceries,"

[majorcrotchgrab]

Raikov chuckled, "Understandable. It is a very nice place - and one where I don't have to worry about women trying to flirt with me. That's always a plus."

[defies_reason]

"It is an advantage."

[majorcrotchgrab]

"I think I'll be coming here quite often..." He purred, moving a little closer to Isaak's side.

[defies_reason]

The look that earns him is decidedly appraising. It's a subtle gesture; the slight tilt of his head, the sweep of his eyes, the edge to his smile. (If flirting with literally everyone here isn't fair game, after all, what's the point?)

"I'll have to buy you a drink some time."

[majorcrotchgrab]

That look Isaak gave him had Raikov curling himself around the man's arm. "Mmm.. I'd be honored."

[defies_reason]

Now, what will your boyfriend say, Raikov?

"Well, it will be my pleasure."

[majorcrotchgrab]

He'd ask to join in.

"You certainly know how to charm your customers, don't you?"

[defies_reason]

Well, then.

"It's good for business."

And business is good for flirting. Really, it's the best of all worlds.

[majorcrotchgrab]

Raikov pulled in closer, still hanging off Isaac's arm. "Care to show me around the place?"

[defies_reason]

"If you'd like," he answers, brushing his other hand over Raikov's before tipping his head toward the hallway. "I am a bit proud of what we've done with it. Have you seen the lounge in back?"

[majorcrotchgrab]

"I haven't yet. This is the first place I've been to."

Because, you know, food.

[defies_reason]

Can't fault a man for that, he supposes.

"Well," he says, leading onward, "Certainly it's worth a look. I aimed for something a bit quieter than most of the other establishments in the City. Comfortable."