Без муки нет науки.Account reboot : 5/4/2016
do svidaniya.
willkommen
гвоздика.винторез. Shhh this is great, no worries ; v ;
The restaurant was a quaint little place, to be frank. Okay, to say it was little was an understatement. It was built on a warehouse, everything renovated and rebuilt by hand by Roax and his family. And by 'family' it included his friends. They weren't experts in architecture, but most of them were old and had built a home by themselves at one point, so it was something. Especially his father. Being in a travelling circus meant you have to be smart with your hands, but that was besides the point.
The building had a vintage feel to it, with the decorations and its furniture - something that looked like it was straight from the 1920s. Smells of baked goods as well as something cooking in the kitchen floated through the air, while the sound of soothing music could be heard playing from the stage by a live band. From their outfits, it seemed as if they were the waiters of this place, so it was obvious that the live band performers were among them as well.
Wiping his hands on the apron tied around his waist, the green-haired man with one shrouded eye made his way towards Belarus's table, ready with his small notebook and a pen on his left hand. His sharp fuchsia-coloured fingernails have been trimmed neatly so that it was no longer pointing out - so there was no need for him to wear his leather gloves. He tilted his head however upon seeing the nation, recognizing her face from somewhere but not remembering where. Was it during WWII ? Most probably.
"Привет, госпожа," he spoke in his usual slow voice, hoping that she could hear him in this surrounding. "You are --Belarus, da ?"